روايات وقصص ضمن Imperfect Books

Noah’s P.O.V Imogen was ridiculous. We walked through the rows of bookshelves, her mouth running nonstop, and I barely had the time to process the fact that I’d just met someone who actually had MY love for classical literature. She ranted about everything–why she hated first-person narrative (“I don’t care what the protagonist thinks, I want to see them just fucking act and fuck up in real-time.”) why Hemmingway was overrated, (“Good for him and his six-word stories. I could do that too, you know. Here see, ‘Man is sad. Drinks. Dies. The end.) that was actually very funny even if I didn’t totally agree with her. She talked so much she even explained why bookstore coffee tasted like burnt sa

I should have finished writing it before I started publishing. As the stress of writing new chapters and publishing it before you began to lose interest in waiting, while trying to be a good, responsible mother to my ASD 3 year old boy, the stress of trying to write expressive, well written, spelling and grammatically mistake free (English is not my native language btw) chapters at the expense of taking a longer time to publish between chapters, was all getting to me. I realized too late, that if I wanted my book to be perfect in every way (because I'm also a keen perfectionist and when I want something done, I want it to be perfect) I should have finished it first.

I knew at that moment that I had just crossed my boundary. ////////////////////////////////// Okay, so I have decided to give each chapter a status Frenzy(easy to write) Cranky( not easy) Frenzy but a little Cranky, you know what that is. This is imperfection, the first trilogy.

There could be a slip up, I might just mistakenly say something I'd rather not say. One more reason why it was a kind of safe space with Kunle and Sophia. We talk about everything and yet, nothing. "Well, All books, all genres except sad fictions. I don't understand why books would have sad endings. Books like All the bright colors, The fault in our stars, We were liars and co. I hate reading those kind of books. I prefer books like Eleanor and Park, Holding up the Universe, A very large expanse of sea. Generally, light novels that'd just make me smile. A sun is also a star, books with breathtaking ending that'd make you feel things."

June lunged for Dante, catching his sleeve as they both tumbled down into darkness. They didn’t fall into fire. They landed in a mountain of paper. June gasped, rolling onto the soft, dusty pile. She scrambled up, boots sliding across millions of pages. When she looked around, a sob escaped her. The pit stretched as far as she could see, crammed with old Golden Books, torn photographs, broken wooden spoons. “These are the failed versions,” Dante said softly. He picked up a photograph—him and June in a park, except the sun was a weird, neon green. “They’ve been trying to bake the ‘perfect’ story for ages. We’re just the latest screw-ups.”

"Yeah, I know. Perks of being a neighbourhood kid to the college. Anyways, I called you up again to tell you this. I gotta go. Bye!" "Bye!" I wished back and hung up. I spent the next couple of hours talking to my family and reading Cecelia Ahern's 'Perfect'. I was done reading 'Flawed' before I came here and started reading 'Perfect' yesterday morning. Honestly speaking, I was fond of 'Perfect' more than 'Flawed' because of many reasons but especially of one big solid reason: I shipped Carrick and Celestine more than I shipped Art and Celestine. I just loved the chemistry between Carrick and Celestine and that made me so addicted to the book.

He looked at his PA. “I need R. W Lee’s The Principles of Roman-Dutch Law book.” “I overheard the conversation, she didn’t say which type she wants. She just said the wants the book. I can d******d it, have it printed and turned into a book format. I know a printer.” Adrian stared at her. She smiled before he could say anything else. “Work smart and not hard. You find the wine. I will do the book and start preparing your travel plans.”

she replied, “I can’t believe we are breaking history, a maid is marrying her boss.” “I don’t think anybody would believe that for you look nothing like a maid.” “But I was a maid.” “Was, but not anymore, you are my imperfect perfection,” he replied that she could only smile and wondered how can they be a perfection that is imperfect? Not getting her answer, she smiled more pronounced and listened to the priest, today is a very big day to her, a day she had looked forward to all her life with the man beside her. And she knew that just as his words ‘imperfect perfection’ confused her, so would their love confuse anyone who tries to ruin them.

In the application I submitted, I'd already answered all these, but maybe it was just standard protocol. I reached into my bag for a pen. I was pretty sure I'd packed a pen but I couldn't find it again. “Where is it? I thought I put it in here,” I whispered as I rummaged through my handbag. “You can borrow mine,” Jeremiah handed a pen to me. “Um, thank you,” I said, a little embarrassed that I forgot to bring something as little as a pen on my first day. “You're welcome.” Just then, the door was pulled open and my heartbeat picked up a bit at the person that walked right through.