Life From Scratch Book Novels & Stories

SHAWNA'S POV: Life has always been cruel to me, I have lost all those who were once close to my heart. Standing here all alone. Well, they say, nobody's life is perfect and neither is that they are perfect... But guess that is how life is, like me. I am not perfect or either my life is, for me, life is now a mystery. It is always in suspense what the next morning bring for me?... LIFE... the four-letter word... it's amusing how tiny and simple it looks, but when we see it closely, it is a big wide world. It would take another novel to write it all about.

"But life is a Rollercoaster, Liviana. It's a long, fun, and terrifying ride. And there's no getting off until the very end. So, you better enjoy it while it lasts." That woman had taught Liviana a valuable life lesson that day, and more than she knew, she had also given a young, hopeless girl her heart back. She had taught her of the rollercoaster that was life and had given her a new book to read from the cell her parents had her entrapped in. Only this book wasn't like the others. The words weren't the written form of deception and the book wasn't one where she was the side character in the story of her life. Instead, there was nothing. There were no lies, no loopholes, and certainly no g

This book has found you for a reason. Or maybe fate has led you here. So buckle up, sit back, grab some popcorn and relax as I take you on this chaotic ride that is going to change your life forever. I will tell you how I became a trillionaire, got revenge on my enemies and had the most eligible and richest bachelors chasing me at the age of eighteen. Only a complete nincompoop will dare to close their eyes and shut their ears as I tell my story. Don’t do that.

We really built a life. This isn't the filtered, pristine kind I*******m shows you, where everyone is bathed in perfect light and children never wear mismatched shoes. This life is real. It’s tired. It’s lived-in. It’s stained with juice and smudged with finger paint and worn down by constant use. It is built from the ground up by two people who had every reason to quit—two people scarred by their own pasts—but who chose to double down on each other instead.

Thank you. This book began as a simple idea: what if two people who thought they were enemies were really just terrified of how deeply they could love each other? From that single question grew Brielle and Jaxon, Willow Creek, the chaos of family life, the storms, the forgiveness, the laughter, the quiet moments that matter just as much as the dramatic ones. You walked with them through all of it—through tension and longing, heartbreak and healing, passion and peace.

My parents tried every way to convince her, but my sister, Holly Shaw, was as stubborn as a horse. Back in the seventies when Anthony Brown and his mother, Amelia Brown, showed up at our farm, they were skin and bones, practically bullied out of their wits. Nobody dared to get near them, except for me, sneaking out in the dead of night with some food and warm clothes from our stash. For that, once the pair made it back to the city, marrying the girl who saved them was the first thing on their list. In my previous life, Holly had snatched the credit for that good deed.

“I used to think stories had to be neat. That they had to begin and end in predictable ways. But life isn’t a book. It’s a heartbeat. Messy, beautiful, flawed—and worth it.” The crowd snapped their fingers, cheered, and held one another. And in that moment, Skye knew: This was the life she was always meant to build. Not perfect. But finally, hers.

I avoided Marcus and went to the study. When I unlocked my phone, I found exactly what I expected—Mirabelle was livestreaming. In my previous life, she had done the same thing, sharing her "day in the life of a rich family's housekeeper" online. She even claimed she was going to follow the lady of the house and challenge herself to reverse aging in thirty days, going from 40 back to 20. At the time, her viewers were in stitches, flooding the chat with comments. "Ma'am, you'd have to be remade from scratch. If you can go back to 20 in 30 days, I can go back to kindergarten!"

What came after. The letters and the yellow nursery and the Tuesday morning proposal and the ice and the building of something from the wreckage. The choice and the daily choosing and what it looked like from the inside of a life that had been built deliberately rather than fallen into. The specific texture of being inside a good life that had cost something to get to and was better for the cost. The three chapters were the damage. The book needed to be the whole thing. I sat at the table for a while.

About the specific work of becoming real when you'd spent years being made into something else. *What Comes After: On Healing, Identity, and the Life You Build From Scratch.* By Aria Ashford Rhodes. Claire called on publication day. Voice doing the undignified thing again. "Number one again," she said. "First day." "People needed this book too." "It's different from the first one. Quieter. More personal." "The first one was about what happened. This one is about what I did with it." "Yes. And apparently everyone needed to read about what you did with it."