Life From Scratch Book Novels & Stories

Some were complete. Others were only half written. Many contained only a single page. The mysterious man walked between the shelves, running his fingers lightly across the worn bindings. "Every life..." he said softly, "...begins as an unwritten page." He stopped beside a nearby shelf. From it he removed a thick leather-bound book. Gold letters covered its spine. Adrian Vale He handed it forward. "Open it." Adrian hesitated. Then he carefully opened the first page. It contained his birth.

"Not the life for me." I poured the orange juice into a cup and brought it to my lips to take a sip. I raised an eyebrow for him to continue. If he called me a slut, I would have kicked him out. But, he didn't. "There's nothing wrong with it," he murmured before a smile tugged at his lips. "It's just...well because my parents had such a kickass love story, I want my own, I suppose." "Cute," I commented with a smirk and he waved me off.

I scratched the back of my neck, “I need to clarify something with that,” “What is it?” “I need to read it, again,” He just stared at me. “My apology, Mr… I mean, Drayce,” “Again? Why? Is there something wrong with the contract I made for you?” he asked. I didn’t read the contract, that’s the truth. I shook my head, “A bit, and this is about the lifetime deal, I’m kinda hesitant with that,” “But the deal is much greater than any other deal I give to the other artist,” Now, he sounds disappointed.

The book on my lap fell to the ground. Alex picked it up and scanned the cover. "Human Biology." He arched a brow in my direction. "You can read?" The edges of my lips tilted at his question. "Yes, my mother taught me. She used to draw words and letters in the sand when I was younger. I had not seen a book until now, though. Mother often said the leaves were delicate and would tear apart in water. There were times when she said books were like life. Sometimes it took on a drop of disaster to tear our lives apart."

That's enough. I close it and put it on the shelf next to the others. Four volumes of becoming. Of breaking and rebuilding. This life—the one I'm building with Adrian and Ava and everyone who's chosen to be part of it—this doesn't need documentation. It just needs living. And I'm finally learning how.

“You want another chance? Regina, being reborn is already a gift from heaven. We’re adults. We have to take responsibility for the choices we make.” I looked straight into her eyes. “I don’t regret leaving you, marrying Sadie, or not choosing the life that’s truly mine.” Her voice broke with frustration. “I gave you ten years of my life. My love isn’t less than Sadie’s, so why must it be her?” I smiled faintly and asked, “Since we had ten years, Regina, tell me, what’s my favorite food? What am I allergic to? My favorite color? What games do I play?”

I am not a professional writer, but I have enjoyed studying the craft as I develop this book and get more confident each day. The story has been broken down into three main parts following Skylar's life: Act 1 - Skylar's early life experiences Act 2 - Skylar's evolution once she leaves her pack for the first time. Act 3 - Coming home, Skylar as a woman returning to a life she left as a child. For any writers out there reading through with me. Please give me any and all feedback that you have. I love to learn and grow as I go through this process.

Christian and I promise to make them proud of their dad’s sacrifice and they both nod before exiting. When everyone has come and gone I look at my mate and Alpha laying on the cot our Pup asleep on his chest. It would have been easy to go back and have it all go right, to avoid all the pain and denial but not at the cost of the others. All the people I met because of the rejection and difficulties that led me to them and to aid them. It would not be worth the loss of my beautiful pup even if he will be the only pup. It is not about how we got here, it is that we got here. A smile graces my lips as I realize this is the beginning of my happily ever after now that I am living with his mark.

And they were right, whoever it was, because I hadn't given any real thought to Sicily in the hours since she'd been back except for a short window of time earlier while sitting at my desk. Not only that, but I don't seem to have the same drive I had even a day before. Like I'd told Pop, I wanna live, I want to have many more days and nights with my little family, and that need has overridden the other. Now I have to think of ways to get rid of Ricci without getting my hands dirty, which might take some time. The fact that Pop and his new friends have him stashed away somewhere might add to my troubles as well. I left them on the bed and went over to the computer. Instead of checking the ale

The book is called The First Life: What the Practice Earned and What the Practice Cost. She sends it to Clara first. Not Cristina — Cristina is at the coast, seventy-six, making ceramics with the precision of someone who has been at it for eleven years and has found the bowl she was always building toward. She sends it to Clara because Clara is the person who asked for it. Clara is the person who will read it first. Clara reads it over four days. Calls on the fifth morning. "The first movement," Clara says. "Yes," Valentina says. "You described her exactly. The woman who was not unhappy. The specific texture of a life that was adequate and knew it was adequate and had no language for wanting