Leather Pocketbook Novels & Stories

Dakota attempts to make a jab while he proceeds to happily ignore her, taking his personal victory. Retrieving the last item within the bag, I pull out a silver parcel. Carefully inspecting the velvet blanket folded up neatly, I unravel the charcoal silk ribbon tied meticulously around it—realising that something has been carefully tucked away inside. With grand embroidered images detailing the dated cloth, I unwrap it carefully before revealing an old leather book stored safely within. Marvelling over the light grey cover, I can’t help but study the beautifully drawn crest sat in the centre of the intricate design—carved perfectly with its lines tinted in a grand shade of crimson, appearing

"Celeste York, do you think I've never shopped for bags like these before? I'd believe it if they set up such purchase policies for the Kelly and Saddle bag. But this bag can be sold anywhere on the street, and you're saying it has a purchase policy? "And this bag, I can buy this anywhere. Since you say they were bought under the same purchase policies, where are their accessories?" Leah scoffed at Celeste's casual attempt at lying to her.

When people attempted to stop me to talk, I waved and said hello, but I kept the course to my destination. As I'd hoped, there was no one around. I unzipped my backpack and took out the blanket I'd packed, careful not to accidentally toss the journal on the ground. There wasn't anything ornate or special about the cover itself, although I was certain it had been expensive. The leather was soft like suede yet worn like a jacket. While I assumed it was new, it appeared aged. The words on the pages screamed at me to read them, but even if Jude hadn't written what was inside, I'd still covet the book for its beauty.

"That wasn't necessary." "Madison insisted," Jackson explained with a smile. "Said it would be rude to show up empty-handed." Alexander's eyes found mine again, questioning. "Did she?" I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "It's just a token. Nothing special." Alexander carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a leather-bound notebook with his initials embossed in the corner. "This is thoughtful," he said, running his fingers over the monogram. "Madison mentioned you take a lot of notes," Jackson explained. "Thought you might appreciate something nicer than the standard office supplies."

"Show me whatever the Penance had on board." In walks Alex, arms full of a worn leather bag and some loose things. A shake of the head comes first. Not much worth anything here, just usual supplies. Yet there’s this one thing. Out comes a folded sheet of paper, edges stiff, shut tight with dull grey wax. Hidden it had been, stitched beneath the cloth right against his chest

“Bottom drawer. By the sink.” I frowned. I’d already checked there. Still, I padded back in and tugged it open. Towels. Razors, yet no shampoo. With a sigh, I crouched lower and pulled open the next drawer. Something metallic clinked inside. And it certainly wasn't toiletries. I hesitated, then lifted the folded T-shirts stacked on top. Beneath them was a small leather pouch, the kind Dean usually kept locked in his travel bag. My pulse kicked, but my hand moved on its own, sliding the zipper open.

Then he reached beneath the table. I hadn't noticed anything there before — no bag, no case, nothing visible from where I sat. But his hand came back holding a small leather folio, worn soft at the edges in the particular way of something carried and handled for a very long time, opened and closed more times than anyone had bothered to count. He set it on the table and drew out a single envelope, sealed, the flap pressed down flat and untouched.

“What in the world?” She turned on the overhead light and opened her bag wide, pulling out the larger objects, like her wallet and makeup bag. Nearly everything was out, and the journal wasn’t there. It wasn’t a huge book, only about the size of her palm, but it was thick and heavy, so there was no way she was missing it.

she said. The shop was a small clothing shop with a half-dozen leather outfits ranging from full suits of clothes to skimpy bra-and-brief sets in the window. The clothing obscured the view of much of the interior, so Cherry had to take Lucy's word that she was not being taken to a sex shop. Once inside, the smell of new leather assailed their nostrils and Cherry breathed it deep into her lungs, gaining an appreciative look from both Lucy and Michael. The shop was simply filled with racks of leather coats, leather dresses, leather bodices, leather pants; leather of all kinds, black and coloured, for the delight and enhancement of those who liked leather.

“One way or another.” “That’s not fair,” she blurted. “You work more than anyone. You’re not… bad.” A bitter laugh crawled up my throat. I pushed it down. “Fair doesn’t matter here,” I said gently. “Only what they owe and what they think they can get.” She bit her lip. “What will you do?” she asked. I glanced around to make sure Hest wasn’t lurking, then reached into my pocket. I’d stolen a small offcut of leather from the cobbler’s workroom that morning—just a scrap, palm‑sized, discarded near a pile of broken straps. Useless to them. Precious to me.