Novel Books To Read Novels & Stories

--- Elsewhere… Nelly Couldn’t Finish the First Page Nelly sat in her room, sadness weighing heavily on her face. She felt as if Naomi had taken Adel from her completely. She stepped out, hesitant, and stopped at Naomi’s door. Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle… then slowly turned it. The room lit up. It was neatly arranged. On the table lay a book Naomi had been reading. She approached and picked it up. The title read: “Your Eyes Found Me – A Novel” She turned off the light and left.

Only two seem to be nonfiction and self help books, yet when i check what content they will be self helping me with i feel surprise running through me. "The delicate art of seduction and manipulation." I fling that one to a corner of the room and pick up the other. "How to make men beg for a chance to fuck you." I fling that one even harder and it joins its partner on the floor near my wardrobe. There are four remaining. Four novels which I have two days to myself to devour. The smile that works its way up my face is radiant. I'm going to have such a good time.

" So, let's go. If it's important to you. What are the books? " There are two novels. Sweet Ana and The Prostitute's Secret. " Wow, I thought you were going to say The Great Gatsby or One Hundred Years of Solitude… But that's okay. " Prejudice with contemporary literature, then you? - He jokes, and his sincere smile framed by his perfect features leaves me floored for a few seconds. " That's right. I'll read them then. " Without reading reviews on the internet before. " Promise. " They're at my summer house, here at Metropolity. I can get them or… you can sleep with me tonight.

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. Well, I shouldn't be going around the library looking for a novel I like because what I'm supposed to be doing is taking care of a crazy bastard named Rhysand del Millero, who's on the phone. But I don't want to do that. I'd rather buy time with the books in front of me until the helicopter he's waiting for comes over to the bullshit he started. Damn, I hate this situation. I hate being stuck with a domineering, powerful man who loves to be heard more than to hear, and hates that I can't do anything.

To my new readers, if you want to read my other stories, below are all my books on Goodnovel: Lucas' Story: Gone Too Long, The CEO Becomes A World-Class Doting Husband The Wright Family Series: Mommy, Where Is Daddy? The Forsaken Daughter's Return (*) Flash Marriage: A Billionaire For A Rebound I Kissed A CEO And He Liked It (*) The Devil's Love For The Heiress I Fell For A Boy His Daddy Was A Bonus (*) I placed an (*) on the books with the most reads or my bestsellers. Each book is a standalone. You can skip any books as you see fit.

No one has found the bodies yet, though, so theres still a lingering hope out there that they're alive. I sigh as I crawl under the thick quilt, flicking on the lamo beside me as I pull out my latest find at Barnes and Nobels: The Winter Garden by the famous Kristin Hannah. This woman's books are truly amazing. Then, after an hour long reading session, I find my eyes beginning to shut against my will, so I set down the book on the bedside table and shut off the lamp. ~ The next morning...

“These novels from GoodNovel keep me sane from everything going on. And the stories on that site are really interesting. From page one, you wouldn’t even realize when you’ve reached page one hundred.” I shook my head helplessly. “How do you even get the books delivered?” “I subscribed to their membership. Every month, they send a delivery guy to bring one novel from my library.” “So what are you reading?” “Someone recommended this novel to me, ‘Bound to the Mafia’. And I kid you not, from page one, I’ve been hooked. I think you should read it too… you remind me of one of the characters.” “Mom! You know I don’t have time to read novels.”

LUCY'S POV I rolled onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. My life has always been like this, quiet, dull, painfully predictable. I would come home from my boring nine-to-five job, sink into my bed, scroll for a while, sleep, and wake up the next day to repeat the same routine.

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and