Journal 3 Cover Novels & Stories

“I thought putting you with Meghan or Rose first would make you want to leave. I don’t have much I can show you for now so that left Robert as the only choice.” “Thanks for making me sound like a drastic last resort,” Robert complained in mock offense. “Zach, bring your chair over when work officially starts.” At nine, Zach pushed his chair over to Robert’s desk. “I handle the lighter erotica mainly. It’s the content that you can read in public without offending most people. One of the books I am helping with is close to publication and I was wondering if you could choose the cover.” Robert proceeded to show him an array of potential cover images that varied from lurid to boring. Zach picked

is the only word Aminah can think of to alleviate the discomfort; she also does not want to talk with him any longer. She took the clothes, but something abruptly dropped off. When Aminah noticed a perfectly laying lace underwear, her eyes widened. Its hue is red, which makes it stand out. This is the typical design she saw in Helen's room in a seductive magazine. For the second time, she caught Bram's gaze, who only coughed, nodded, and nervously checked the curtain. "I'll change this later." She was too humiliated and just take it immediately and ran to the restroom and slapped her face, hoping to forget her humiliation.

•|•|• For we wolves covet but one thing, and without it, we become undone. •|•|• [SHADE SHADOWS] I stare at the black covers of the journal, my fingers trace the edges. I know that I am alone, but I still look around as if to ensure I am, before lifting one of the loose boards of the shelves, slipping the journal under the hollow wood on a shelf I am sure to remember. I cannot walk around with the journal of an old King, but neither can I continue to read those prized pages within the walls of the library.

I try to ignore it as I grab a mug and start the coffee maker before settling down at the counter. Wary, I study the journal. Its pages are yellowed and brittle with age, as if time itself had gently woven a tapestry of sepia tones around its every word. The cover, once a rich, chestnut leather, has faded to a mottled shade of antique brown. It bears the scars of countless years, its edges frayed and corners worn, a testament to the passage of time.

Until Jester read the cover title, and the implications of the book and Chantelle Romina’s situation hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. In small, looping handwriting at the bottom-right corner of the cover, written in Gaian script, were three words that Jester never imagined he would see again: Carlessi Roma Nyxis. “Jester? Is something wrong?” Alisa asked, tapping on his hand, currently clenched at his side. He blinked, realizing that of the three pairs of eyes on him, only Alisa seemed concerned and surprised at his reaction.

Red dots blinked overhead—cameras everywhere. The room screamed luxury trap: white oak floors shining, cream linen curtains puffing from vents, bed big enough to lose yourself in. My duffel sat open on the rack—empty. Every scrap of my clothes gone. In their place: one sheer black bodysuit on the bed, crotchless, backless, spotlighted like an altar. Cost more than my rent, hid nothing. Note in Damian’s handwriting on cream card: Wear this to lunch. Nothing else. –D

Ace replied. "Exactly, Alpha." Ed glanced at Ace and then focused on the journal. He read the title on the cover, then looked at the series on the back. "De La Vionna's Journal! Give me series 3 and 4!" he continued, scrolling through the people holding the journals. "I have them," said one of the elders. Ed examined the other two journals, looking for images that resembled the symbols. Then he folded the four pages and pressed them together. Ed had to hold them together because the thickness of the journal made it shift if he let go.

“Thanks for getting me out of there. Those people are crazy!” Ashley grinned and tossed me a magazine. It was one of the trashy ones called The Press that she always picked up whenever she went grocery shopping. On the front cover was a picture of my wedding. Jack’s arms were wrapped around me as he kissed me under the white awning with the headline “EXCLUSIVE!” plastered across the cover in garish red. I felt my jaw drop again. At this rate, I was going to end up with a bruise on my chest.

“Hurry up or we'll get caught.” “The only person who would implicate us is you with all that stamping of foot,” I said matter of fact. I traced my fingertips on the brown leather cover. On the front centre part was a silver fancy padlock. Asides from it being a unique design of the journal, I felt it had something. Information. My hands brushed against the metal and to my surprise the top opened and I felt something metallic inside. Pulling it out, I found a beautiful silver necklace, beautifully designed with delicate wolf motifs entwined with leaves and flowers.

“I don’t, no.” “And you don’t have time for the post, so the whole thing’s a bust really.” Cole must have sounded a bit woebegone because he said, “There isn’t an e-copy you could sign me up for?” with the same kind of embarrassed gentleness you might show a three-legged kitten if you weren’t all that keen on cats. “I don’t know. It just turns up in my pidgeon hole. It’s this glossy thing and the cover story is always Spring Well Graduate Now King of Everything Ever.”