Mary Book Novels & Stories

An hour later, we finished going over everything. As Marcus packed up his things, he pulled out a small box and handed it to me. "This is for you." I took the box and opened it. Inside was a delicate silver bookmark, engraved with a tiny flower. "It's beautiful," I said with a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Perfect." His ears turned red as he replied, "You're welcome. I just saw it and thought it was perfect for you, so I bought it."

The lust was back, sharper, hungrier. I pulled out the chair across from her. “Mind if I join you?” She closed the book, hands folding over it. “Not at all. Nice to see you again, Steve.” Her voice was bright, but those dark blue eyes held something deeper. “I’m Mary.” We talked briefly. I told her the chapel had helped more than she knew. She said she was glad, that helping was her calling. Her gaze never wavered, but her nipples hardened under the cardigan when I let my eyes linger on her chest. She buttoned two more buttons,futile. The fabric stretched tighter, outlining every heavy, swaying curve. When she leaned forward her breasts settled heavily onto the closed book like warm, living

Published the following autumn under the title: The Carrying: Thirty Years of Keeping a Secret That Was Not Entirely Mine. On the publication evening, Mara and Sena sat in the manor kitchen with tea going cold, and the estate was quiet outside, and the book was in the world. "Are you glad?" Mara said. "Yes," Sena said. "Both of them now. Both books. He can be known. And the cost of the keeping can be known. And neither of them is alone in the record anymore." Mara held her cup. She thought about the wooden box on the study shelf. She thought: no. Not alone anymore.

Hey beautiful people, Just a warning. This book is an erotica, which means 18+, so if you are uncomfortable with sex and adult stuff, please don’t read my books. But if you are a nymphomaniac like me, go ahead ;) Also guys, for the better understanding of the stories, I’d also like to give you the order in which the books should be read: 1)Nathaniel Lachlan 2)Aaron Riverwood 3)Landon Chambers 4)Danika Williams 5)Mary Redferne PS this book is set up in the 1960s Mary Redferne I was in the car, tapping my foot restlessly as the driver drove inside the gates of a mansion of the guy I was about to marry in a few months. Yeah I know, crazy! I never thought that I’d settle for an arrange marriage

Wendy folded her lips and pressed on them as she turned back to look at her four friends who stood behind her. Mara rolled her eyes in disgust.. she just couldn't believe that a girl so young had already begun to block the path of her fellow girl over a boy. "Wendy I really think you should get your brains checked.. because something might be wrong with you but you are yet to find out" Mara rested her hand on the handle of her school bag as she wanted to walk past the girls but they created some kind of human wall, blocking her path. "Sorry Mara but you have had enough warnings. Today I will have to teach you a lesson" Wendy smirked as she made wicked eye contacts with her friends.

(3rd POV) Marley Brown sat at the edge of a worn, wooden bench in the park, her slender frame silhouetted against the vibrant autumn leaves. At twenty-five, she had learned to appreciate the simple joys of life like the rustle of leaves underfoot and the crispness of the air. Today, however, was not as simple as it appeared. Marley’s mission loomed before her like the clouds gathering for a storm.

She pressed her ear to the hidden panel as Marcella’s voice slithered through the crack: “Lock this wing. Replace the books with crystal sculptures. And burn that Shakespeare volume—it reeks of failure.” This was were Amara always crept in after midnight, flashlight beam trembling. The shelves were already half-empty, gaps like missing teeth. Mama’s desk was stripped bare except for the wedged Peter Rabbit. The floor was scattered with torn pages—her translations of Machiavelli, her notes on The Inferno. She gathered the fragments, stuffing them into her cotton dress. Kneeling in the dust, she pressed her scarred wrist to the oak desk, leaving her own mark in the wood grain.

So I set my small bundle down, and I stayed. Elder Mara was seventy-three years old, stood four foot eleven in her work boots, and was entirely unbothered by my silences. She didn't offer pity or careful curiosity or the overcautious gentleness well-meaning people deployed around me lately — the kind that made me feel like something broken being handled so it didn't crack further. She pointed at a shelf of unmarked clay jars and said: Lavender from the willow-wood grove smells sweeter than highland lavender. Learn to tell them apart. Start there.

"Do you think you'll bе able tо spend some tіmе Sundау wоrkіng ѕоmе of thе рrоblеmѕ I ѕhоwеd уоu іn the оthеr bооkѕ?" "Oh, уеѕ. And thаnkѕ fоr lоаnіng mе these еxtrа bооkѕ. If уоu ѕреnt аѕ muсh time with еvеrу ѕtudеnt and gave them аѕ mаnу еxtrа materials аѕ уоu have wіth mе, you wоuldn't hаvе аnу tіmе оr аnу books in уоur оffісе." Maria zірреd uр hеr bag аnd placed it оn оnе shoulder аnd hеr рurѕе оvеr thе оthеr. Thе ѕtrарѕ of the bags рullеd th е material оf hеr blоuѕе tіght against her chest. I fоught thе urge tо gаwk.

Plus, it would be more fun there to see many things. Mara got in and settled into business as she started by clearing books out of the shelf. There was so much dust in the place and creeping insects. Staying in the barn had made her fears immune to them as she stomped and squashed them all. There were so many scrolls and books, obviously, records of different sizes and shapes. To think he also had maps in his collection, some of which had been eaten in parts by rats. Mara was really occupied with her duty. Occasionally she would whistle or hum to herself while looking through each book and scroll she was busy with before arranging them. She had arranged them into different parts and had not