Ladies Book Novels & Stories

I wasn't sure whose I wanted more. "Excellent choice. Those guys are legendary." She was trying to make small talk but talking wasn't my thing. Sorry. "Here, one of Walt's best art work." She handed me a book. "Song of myself." I read the title out loud while checking out the book. "Or do you prefer Leaves of grass? That one is quite nice but I prefer this one." She said. The lady was a strawberry blonde with brown eyes. She had a round baby like face and slim lips. She was pretty and looked within her early twenties.

No initials nor any marks or clue which effectively made her intrigued more. Upon opening the gift, she was surprised by its content. It proved to be a book entitled ‘In the Gods Own Hands’ authored by J.M. Felic. “Ah, where have I read this author before?” Lianne thought to herself, somewhat unable to recall the author’s previous works that she might have read in the library. “With so many books that passed in your hands my dear, I don’t think you’d be able to remember that one author,” Lady Faye commented.

Celina tucked the sheet in her pocket just in case. "Ah, Thank you," She licked her lips. As the man gathered up another bundle of paper, she froze spotting the book that was buried underneath it. The cover of Canterbury Tales stared back at her. Celina let out a sigh of relief, blinking her lashes at him. "Love that book," The maid breathed softly, her mouth curling into a half smile. She thought no one read anymore considering how everyone's interested in radio and theatres. "Me too," The stranger answered with a gleam.

Her back and joints were stiff, her eyes were hurting from the non-stop reading, and she had already sneezed way too many times from the dust. The book she was reading now was a huge, oversized volume with thick leather binding, cracked along the spine. It probably weighed ten pounds, and was at least twelve inches wide and long. She had it opened to the middle of the book, and each page she turned crackled with age. The pages were thick, so much thicker than those of modern books, and yellow with age. It was a physically gorgeous volume, published in 1661, interspersed with hand-drawn illustrations, some of them in color. Caitlin turned the pages with the utmost care as she went, not wantin

"It's an absolute nonsense. Why ever would a peer have some kind of relationship with a commoner like me?" "It doesn't take a genious to understand what's going on between you and him, Miss Banks. His interest in you is plain to see." "Pardon me, My Lady. I'm certain you knew that he never even glanced at me. He could never have any kind of interest in me." "Really? Then what's all this?" The lady took a leather-covered book from the commode nearby, tossing the book on the table before her. Her heart made a violent pound as she recognized the book.

"I suppose no place in London is truly safe, which is why no woman should walk the streets alone, especially in the evening." Her gaze grew distant for a moment. "It is a mistake I will not make again." Then she looked down at her book. "Next question, my lord." Well, he'd tried. Perhaps a more circuitous route was required to win her trust. "What book are you reading?" He nodded at the tome she'd set aside. "Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations." "Truly?" He blinked at her. Most men he knew couldn't finish that book, and he'd never given much thought to whether a woman would read it. Not that he didn't think a woman could manage it, just that it was so bloody boring

She had wondered privately if the stink of the city alone could coerce her to follow her husband’s command to stay indoors, though she considered it highly unlikely. As she had paused to examine the books lining the shelves, the faint beginnings of her good humour had fled. The titles on the spines leered down at her, the jagged lettering contriving rotten faces of their own. Woman and Sin, they read. The Keeping of a Good Wife. Accomplishments Acceptable in the Female Gender.

This she would do until she was ready for bed. Linda’s house was filled with books. Overburdened shelving units lined the walls, but they were unable to contain her collection. Books were stacked up all over the place, creating literary towers that she would weave through as if a labyrinth of knowledge. Books were Linda’s passion, and in them she found a portal to other realities. She could live other lives, be other people, have epic adventures and torrid romances and thrilling battles. To the outside world she was what her grandmother would have called a spinster, a forty-three year old woman who’d never been married and hadn’t even been on a date in the last ten years, no children and no

If she wanted a divorce in the future, I would give it to her but if she didn't, I wouldn't care either way. Those were my thoughts, but Fake Lizzy is a masterpiece all on her own. She in fact was able to render me speechless all over again. I wanted to applaud her this time when she brought me a book of spring night(Porn Magazine) to relief myself. I was dumbstruck at first; the images in the book were so vivid it was as if the women painted there would come to life the very next moment. For a second, I thought it was some kind of magical book for it looked very real and obscene. I was staggered to find out that my little wife had such a book in her possession.

He gives me a bright smile "On second thought, maybe you should read a little about it." Is that a compliment or an insult? I don't understand the people of the royal family. "Thanks," I say flatly "Moon Held, Lukas." After a short bath and changing into the same nightgown as yesterday, I pick up the book I'd asked for from the library. 101 ways to be a proper noble Lady. I curl up on the couch in the same place as yesterday, the sound of cackling fire creating a soothing aura in the room. As I read on about the proper way of greeting a gentleman of lower status than you, but still of nobel birth, my mind starts to wander.