Modern Library Top 100 Nonfiction Novels & Stories

I looked around the large library on the fifteenth floor of the office. Two years I worked here, I never visited the library because of course work is more important. Besides being used as a display, this library is usually used for programmers who want to work in peace. If Big Man's secretary hadn't taken Rhysand and me to the library, I might have been the only employee who had never visited this room. I love reading. Reading novels. The first novel I read was by Louisa May Alcott; Little Woman, and then moved on to other feminist novels such as Handmaid's Tale and Pride and Prejudice—the book I'm holding right now.

The bookshelf was just as tall as Andrew so he could easily access the books there. The bookshelf had all sorts of books, ranging from fictional novels to nonfictional novels, to educational novels and textbooks. Her eyes caught titles like; The Redwall series by Brian Jacques, Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and a lot more. Even the Encyclopedia was in his bookshelf. And there was also some novels on the basis of business and finance. The book the lad was currently reading was The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie.

I frowned, “Alright, thanks.” Making my way to the library, I went to the nonfiction area and began my search. If I could find what I was looking for here, then I'd be happy. I pulled one book out and glanced at it. It read, ‘Politics’, it wasn't what I wanted so I dropped it back. I pulled another one out and was about how to buy your time, authored by Dan Martell.

I close the door quietly. I spend an hour in the smaller library looking at the books. He has everything. Fiction. Nonfiction. Art books. History. A whole shelf of poetry that looks like it has never been touched. I pull out a volume of Mary Oliver and flip through it. Someone has dog-eared a page. I read the poem. "Wild Geese." I read it twice.

Mila I didn't stop until I reached the double glass doors of the two-story library we had passed earlier. I shoved the doors open and stepped inside. I walked over to the nearest bookshelf and traced my fingers over the spines. First editions. Classics. Historical fiction. Biographies of obscure 19th-century monarchs. Every single genre I had ever spent hours wandering through the city's second-hand bookstores to find. I walked toward the center of the room, where a reading table sat beneath a modern chandelier. Resting in the center of the table was a leather-bound book, an expensive silk bookmark resting between its pages.

I feel my whole body relax like it only does when she's close. "You don't need to be embarrassed about reading dirty books. I've been doing it for years." she says and my head pops up and I stare at her to determine how serious she is. But I don't sense even hint of joking. How interesting. "Really? What kind of books do you like?" I ask and watch with fascination as an adorable blush creeps up her face. "Um... mostly small town romance. Single dad, friends to lovers, next door neighbors, things like that." she says a little shyly making me chuckle.