Leather Pocketbook Novels & Stories

The leather-bound notebook was a small rebellion. It was not his workaday tablet, nor the family schedule on the kitchen fridge. This was personal, discretionary, analog. He had bought it at a busy, dusty stationery store in the Village, the kind that reeked of ink and old paper, light-years from the glass-and-steel reasonableness of his day-to-day life. Its cover was a dark, plush navy, blank and awaiting. It was heavily weighted in his hands.

Reed and I peruse the stylish, trendy items that line the racks, picking out pieces that catch our eye. We carry on our shopping binge at an upscale leather goods store, where the aroma of opulent leather permeates the space as we peruse an array of purses and accoutrements. Among other things, I notice a stunning handbag in a soft blush color, and Reed purchases a black leather wallet, admiring its craftsmanship. It’s elegant and versatile, something I can use every day.

They had tried using the heavy strength glue to attach the pages to the leather but a few pages would not hold, so she had to go back and sew the pages into their books. While she did that, she had Asher cut little pieces of fabric out of a spare scrap of leather. With those pieces of leather, she sewed a medium sized pocket on the back inside cover of each journal and she sewed a tiny strap at the bottom of the page. Asher kept watching her curiously, clearly wondering what she was doing, but never asking. When she was done with the books, she took their quills and slid it in to the litle strap on the back. Peeling the stickers off of the little pouches of ink, she tucked them in the pocket

The room was already half-empty, the shelves skeletal and dusty, smelling of old paper and the stinky, metallic tang of his sweat. In the center of the room sat a black leather duffel bag I had never seen before. It looked out of place against the refined mahogany. Jordan unzipped it slowly, the sound of the teeth catching like a serrated blade in the silence. My breath hitched as I saw what was inside. It wasn't books or documents. It was a collection of dark, heavy leather—cuffs lined with sheepskin, a series of silk ropes, a faceted glass plug that caught the morning light, and a long, supple leather crop.

“By the way, if anyone asks, this never happened.” “Got it,” I said. I peered into the drawer. It was mostly empty; just a couple of boxes containing some expensive jewelry and a designer watch. Far in the back, though, tucked right up against the wall, was a small leather pouch. I pulled the pouch out and opened it. It contained a few items—a platinum credit card. A checkbook that looked like it hadn’t been used in ages. The receipts for the other items in the drawer. But there was one folded up piece of paper that caught my eye.

It must be nice to be rich. "They hurriedly apologized and fled with their pals after realizing they had been overheard. Charlene had already noticed the extravagance. The luggage was opulent, not just costly. Made of the best leather, each bag and piece of luggage was worth thousands of dollars. Maureen's handbag was a six-figure limited edition, and Jacques' luggage alone was worth a considerable fortune.

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."