Jane Bronte Novels & Stories

Her eyes ran over the old, inked words quickly, and she nodded to herself as she read. Skye’s leg was still jiggling beneath the table. I slid one of my hands under the old wood and let it sit softly on his thigh. His jeans were a little bit damp, and they were cold to the touch. His leg faltered, and then stilled. “I think it’s definitely similar,” Kathrena said, looking up at us. “Jane – her name was Jane – didn’t keep such extensive notes. She kept it quite simple, though, mostly working with candle magic and herbs and oils. Silly little things, like good luck charms before exams, love spells if one of us had a crush.” Kathrena dropped her gaze, and I felt a sudden urge to squeeze her han

JANE I heard the words leave my mouth before I could stop them. "It's only fair to end this with a little bit of crass, is it not?" His eyebrows went up. Interest flickered across his face. I stood, tucking the bills into my purse with deliberate slowness. Five hundred dollars. That was textbooks and maybe even groceries that weren't ramen. My hands weren't shaking anymore. I was Jailbird now. Fully Jailbird. Jane Puckett was locked away somewhere safe.

Aysel said, smiling warmly at him with her captivating hazel eyes. "Umm... that would be really nice of you," he stuttered, feeling his heart flutter at the enchantment of her innocent gaze. "What is her name, Sir?" Janetta asked, intervening in their conversation. "Emily-Emily Bronte," the man said. "Emily Bronte? Do you know about her?" Aysel asked Janetta. "No, I haven't heard that name here," Janetta's brows furrowed in confusion. A thought occurred to her as she said to Aysel, "But let me check the system for the names of the staff here. I'm sure we will find something."

It's nasty and gory, and eventually Bronte loses too much blood from her neck wound and falls to the ground, saying," I give up! She lets out a feeble rasp before two doctors charge into the arena and drive numerous moonstone splinters into the corpse of the Ounsli girl. Cynthia spins around, grinning covered in blood, and I start to feel a little queasy as the crowd erupted in applause, declaring the victor of round one to be in stone. The next two girls are announced, but I'm not really paying attention to them; my eyes are locked on the Ounsli girl, her chest heaving as she struggles for air, and I find myself touching my own neck with a shaking hand—that could have easily been me. Cynthi

Emily Warner The loud knocking and my cat meowing in my face woke me up. What the damn hell? “Emily Anne Warner, if you don’t open this damned door in a minute, I swear to god I will knock it down with a bulldozer. I am not kidding you. You haven’t replied to any texts or calls in a week. At least before that you answered my texts. I am not going to leave you alone now.” I sat up straight in my bed as I could hear Danika yelling.

She asked Pearl. Pearl started to say Bukowski but Rhys had ruined that for her. She thought about it and she remembered as a young girl the novel that truly changed her life. "Jane Eyre." She said. "The Brontës. It was Mr. Rochester that truly ruined me. A man and his ghosts. And a woman strong enough to love him despite them." She said. Erik looked at her. It took everything he had to stop himself from telling her right there and then she owned his heart.

“Favorite novelist?” “Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice, before you ask.” “By God, boy!” he exclaimed in glee and clapped his hands. “We have a keeper with this one!” He turned to me again. “Second favorite?” I chewed my lip for a second. “Dickens or Louisa May Alcott. It’s tough, but Alcott might just win out. Her ability to create a whole cast of compelling, lovable characters – not just one or two – is something I’ve yet to find in another writer.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, fixed her eyes somewhere on the ceiling, and let loose her usual torrent of words. "I read a wonderful book called, Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë. It was written in 1847, but the characters in the book are so real that you feel as if they're living today. When I read this book, I felt as if I were Jane Eyre, a lonely, friendless orphan girl sent away to a cold, cruel boarding school where all the other girls despise her."