Mis Historias Preferidas Novels & Stories

And I got a strong whiff of alcohol from him. "I don't want to see your pathetic tears. You know, I despise you more than your sister. You and your whole family are the most horrible people I have ever come across. Just wait until it's time for revenge… Until then, I will be torturing you little nerdy. And no one will help you or let you escape from this, even death…!!"

This was proof he doesn't need her in his life and doesn't feel bad about it, she was just a girl in his eyes, it was painful to think that the person she loved so dearly only saved a girl who needed help tonight and not Selena. Howard feels miserable right now, she probably thinks of him as the worst human alive now, after the stupid decision he had made by breaking up with Selena. He feels she deserved someone better than him, not an asshole like him who needed sex from every beautiful lady he sets his eyes on. He was going to make Selena one of them but felt she was too good to go through that, he had made up a lie just to end the relationship.

They can do whatever they want without any boundaries, without any restrictions. And here I'm, so unfortunate and so unlucky. I can't just do what I like. All I do is whatever I was told to. My parents' wish that they wanted me to see as a successful businesswoman. I never wanted to be in business. I love reading books, especially history books. My favourite is Indian history. Among it. I always used to spend my entire day and night in the library of my college, studying history and specifically, Indian history. I love reading about the mediaeval history of India and its rulers, their love interests, and how they fought for their love.

I think for a moment, “I don’t think I have one. There is a small café that Kendra and I frequent because it is conveniently located near her workplace. I don’t eat out much.” “You read a lot. What is your favorite book?” Max asked. I shrug, “It depends on my mood. We didn’t have television growing up, so I read a lot. I don’t think I have a favorite book. But my favorite genre is historical romance.” “Oh, you like things about knights and kings?” Max inquires. I feel slightly embarrassed, “No, some of my favorites are about someone who goes back in time, and they have to adjust. Most go with a poor farm boy.”

“It helps... quiet my mind.” I nodded, understanding all too well. Especially since I had been reading a lot more than usual these days back home, my stepmother had not wanted me reading anything; she would have thrown me out of the house if not for appearance's sake, but books had been her way of showing control over me. “What do you like to read?” He hesitated, then held up the book he’d grabbed. “History. Legends, mostly. Stories about ancient packs and their wars.” A faint smile tugged at my lips.

I said, wanting to fill the silence, “thank you for looking for us.” “It’s my pleasure,” he said, offering me a gummy smile. He adjusted the lapels of his jacket, and he rubbed over the enamel of his badge. “I’ve always been interested in myths, legends, folklore – that kind of thing. It’s nice to see you younger folk taking an interest in history.” “Yeah,” I smiled. “You know, I’m surprised by how interesting some of it is. I never liked learning about the facts and figures, but these old stories – they have character. I can imagine them being passed down, told around a campfire, that sort of thing.”

My brother, Graham Hart, was the villainous second male lead in a romance novel. After the female lead, Celeste Rodgers, faked her death, he spent every day thinking of ways to die for her. But before he could follow through, he got a call from my kindergarten teacher, Carly Rocha. "Are you Mila Hart's brother? Please come to the school. She keeps climbing into the aquarium and pretending to be a goldfish. She says she learned it from you. What exactly is going on?" After that, Graham didn't dare try to kill himself anymore. He had to set a good example for me. Then one day, years later, the school called him in because I had been caught dating a boy with bleached hair. As it turned o

she replied without moving her eyes from the book. "What is it about?" he asked. She had a habit of sharing the stories she read with him, and although he used to find it frustrating in the beginning, he had now come to adore it. It wasn't the story that interested him, but rather, the way her eyes would light up with enthusiasm every time she narrated them. Her passion for anything was his biggest weakness. Her lips stretched into a smile.

Still, I was missing so many pieces of this puzzle and that made it impossible to come to a result. At least, for now, I could fix on Dumarque. The idea itself caused a sinister smile on my lips. Finally, I was coming for him. When we were on that flimsy boat so many years ago, and I could see my childhood on fire, a detail which I’ll never forget imprinted on my mind. The males on horses coming from our house had a blazon on their uniform. Guess whose?

and the phrase that passed in his head as the most stupid he could think of just came out of his mouth. Poor Domi, he tried at least, and now that comment all messed up was making them laugh. "But anyway, weren't you going to tell me a story? Have I mentioned, my favorite book ever is Dracula, so the topic fits perfectly with my taste. More so because it's a real story. I like that." "Very good then. I'll tell you about my friend's story."