Nine Perfect Strangers Book Review Novels & Stories

I found a seat near the back, pressed my forehead to the cold glass, and watched the only city I'd ever called home shrink and disappear behind me, streetlights blurring past faster and faster until they were just smears of orange in the dark. Slowly, my hand found my stomach, the only piece of my old life still coming with me. "New start," I whispered, to her, to myself and to nobody at all. "Just you and me now." I didn't believe it would be that simple. Nothing had been simple in months, and there was no real reason to think that would change just because I'd crossed some invisible city line. .......... NINE MONTHS LATER Nobody warns you that labour alone sounds different. There's no one

One, two, ten, fifty… A total of ninety-nine men walked out from every direction, gathering into an impenetrable wall of people that completely surrounded him. Then, in Daniel’s terrified eyes, ninety-nine voices exploded like thunder and swept across all of South City. “How about you try and touch our daughter one more time?!”

Cassandra said calmly, and the line disconnected. Cassandra stepped inside her apartment, locating her room with a large stripe. She was already done in the shower when the doorbell rang. It was Inez. She got dressed quickly before proceeding to the door. As she opened the door, Inez hugged her immediately before urging her to lay plain the gist. Cassandra leisurely located the couch while Inez sat adjacent to her, impatiently beckoning Cassandra to start speaking. Cassandra rested a hand under her cheek before throwing in the news, “ I slept with a stranger, a total stranger, she admitted.

Everything was happening rapidly and it felt like my brain was giving way; I could barely think and I felt my entire body go numb. "I'm. . .I'm innocent," I managed to say but it seemed there was no rationale in this case and from the looks on the officers' faces, I knew I was pouring water into a basket; they didn't believe me and It didn't even help that the woman who had reported this case was fidgeting like she had seen a ghost; like I was a dreadful thing to behold.

She put her glasses on her nose and continued to look at the page. "Are you reading Heinlein?" I looked at the title of her book. "A stranger in a strange land". A lump rose in my throat as I read the title. This had been one of Dad's favorite books. Pietra nodded. “Rereading, actually. I love all of the Heinlein stories. She blushed even deeper, as if she'd revealed some deep personal secret. "Me too," I said. The electricity between us surged, pulling me toward her like two opposing charges. — I love the way Heinlen uses Smith's character to force the reader to see his own prejudices.

She stood at the back of the elevator, her chestnut hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, and her burnt-orange top glowed like a sunset on a summer evening. The doors of the elevator began to slowly slide shut. Impulsively, he darted towards the elevator, missing it by a split second, as the door slammed close before he got there. He checked the elevator display screen on the wall. "Nineteenth floor," it read. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and he felt the hope that sparked in his chest when he saw her alighting from the cab, drenching away. He felt like he was losing her again.

My headache was getting worse and worse as I struggled to recall what had happened. Slowly, fragments of what transpired the day before began to resurface in my mind. Immediately after Brix dumped me, and I saw him banging another woman, I went to a bar and drank, and to my surprise... When I realized what had happened between the stranger in bed and me, I was shocked and horrified. "I had sex with a complete stranger!" I disregarded the nagging voice in my head that appeared like it was saying something "What a fool! In bed with a naked man, why do you think you're naked?"

POV: Ricki A book appeared outside his cell, and Ricki read it three times before admitting the giver mattered more than the story. He found it the morning after evening count, sitting on the ledge like it had always belonged there. Cracked spine. Pages gone soft and gray at the corners, the particular softness that came from hands, not water. No note. No name. A slow, aching story about a man convicted of a crime he never committed, and Ricki read it twice in two days, each pass slower, less about the plot and more about the specific ache of being seen by a stranger who'd decided, for whatever reason, that he was worth the risk. He turned it over between chapters, thumb dragging along the s

It's really helpful! Janice's eyes flickered with cruelty. She suddenly shook her hand, spilling the chicken soup all over the floor. "Oops! Sorry, it was too hot. You're not mad at me, are you, Nevaeh?" I did not answer and just looked at Seth. He looked annoyed at me and pushed me aside to grab Janice's hand and check on her. "Janice, did you get burned?" I felt so unfairly treated that my eyes filled with tears. "Seth, what's going on between you two?"

I knew he was asking silly questions to understand my mood He studied me for a second longer than felt comfortable. Then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” Back to his phone. I looked back at the book. One breath. Two. Three. A woman in London. I thought about every moment I had filed carefully away like something precious. The kitchen floor. The garden. The balcony. All those quiet spaces where I had let myself believe I was being seen, really seen, for the first time in years. And the whole time. The whole time there had been a woman in London.