Jacob Black X Reader Imprint Novels & Stories

The shorter of the women stared rather intently at Brad, and he knew what was coming even before she said, “Hey, aren’t you that writer guy?” Still wearing his barker hat, Bias picked up the book he’d been reading, which happened to be Brad’s latest release, Disappearing Act. Bias liked to joke that he was Brad’s publicist/manager/all-around guru, and he launched into his spiel. “That’s right, ladies, this is the one and only Bradley Storm. Internationally bestselling author whose newest is in stores now. In fact, if you’ll be around this Saturday, he’s doing a reading and book signing at E. Shaver just off Madison Square.”

The names of the Readers were turning into a solid, glowing "Ink Black." One of the "Readers" from the ship—a man in a modern black hoodie—jumped from the prow and landed in the courtyard. He didn't have gold eyes, and he didn't have silver eyes. He had eyes of "Pure Ink." He looked at Kaelen, and a cold, mercury-smile touched his lips. "The 'First Sentence' is beautiful, Genesis," the man said, his voice sounding like a thousand pages turning at once. "But did you forget the 'Disclaimer'? The 'Reader' doesn't just watch. Sometimes, the 'Reader' wants to be the 'Villain'."

Maybe this was a side he’d kept hidden from her, a side that only came out when he was alone? The bookshelf too, was full of clues to Jacob’s secret. The Story of O . Billionaire Blackmail . Fifty Shades of Grey . Delta of Venus . Books by the Marquis de Sade and Leopold von Sacher Masoch. The Marketplace . Every book Emily selected was erotica. She wished she’d found this stash years ago. How exciting would those evenings alone have been then?

It sounded like a threat. Throwing those three words at Jake, she rushed to her room, leaving the speechless parents of her and Jake in a daze. When she came back, there were at least ten books barely balanced in her arms. Ryder laid out the books on the floor and looked at the covers of each one of them with shaking hands. Every single one of them had the initials J. S. C. written on them. And on the first page where the details about the books were written such as the editor or the publishing house, under the word "Author" was written in capital letters: JAKE S. CALEY.

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She was turning the hidden truths into the heart of her literature. The Sovereign Imprint: She was publishing her book under her name the Nora Vale Imprint. She owned every word and every idea. No one could take that away from her. "Marcus is setting up a meeting downstairs this afternoon, " Julian said. He reached across the table. Put his hand on Elena's. His wedding band clicked softly against hers. "The design team wants to show you the layout options for the chapter headers. They want to make sure the type matches the 1932 manifests."

A gentle hum, like a heartbeat, thrummed through my palm. I opened it, but it was bllank. Just one empty page stark white, glistening faintly like starlight on snow. I shut the book. From the outside, it looked old and brittle, as if its pages should crumble to dust. But inside it was alive with a single page. I opened it again, nothing but light. Just a soft radiance that made my chest tighten for reasons I couldn’t explain. Uneasy, I placed the book back down and curled into my seat. Xareth returned some time later, silent as ever, and the carriage rolled on.

A familiar book for the ride back. Jeffrey leaned closer. “What are you reading?” I didn’t look up. “Philip’s Room by Raven Black.” He looked stunned. “No fucking way! For real?”

She'd seen a harmless man, smiley and friendly. "Then I should be the evidence of the saying 'Don't judge a book by its cover'. For all you know, you might be talking to a highly wanted criminal. A child abductor." He chuckled but the lady didn't seem to find the joke. A sad mask appeared on her baby face then came a smile of pretense, "as humans, we can't help but judge a book by its cover. You'd agree with me that some covers actually represents what the book is all about, you know that?" she corked her head, "Mason, isn't it?"

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