Oprah's Book Club Picks Novels & Stories

"You stop reading because it feels like work instead of escape." "Exactly," I said, relieved that he got it without me having to explain. "I keep rereading the same pages and realizing I don't remember anything I just read." He smiled. "That's why book club helps. Other people keep you accountable. I’m part of a book club actually that started out in January. It’s just a dozen people, and we read different genres every week. But it’s so nice, and it helps to keep me accountable because without it, I won’t even read anything."

Her hair was bright pink, her nails painted black, and she wore a T‑shirt that said “Books Before Boys.” “You’re new,” she said, handing me my drink. “Is it that obvious?” “You have that look. The ‘I just moved here and I don’t know anyone’ look.” She leaned on the counter. “I had it too, two years ago. It fades.” I laughed. “How long did it take?” “About a week. Then I found the book club.” “Book club?” She grabbed a flyer from under the counter and handed it to me. “Tuesday nights. The Spined Fox bookstore. We read everything from literary fiction to trashy romance. No judgment.”

I spotted Oprah in the library that afternoon, tucked into a corner table with a stack of books that could have doubled as a small fortress. She had her head down, red hair falling like a curtain around her face, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. Perfect. I had been watching her for the past few days, studying her movement. She came to the library every Tuesday and Thursday after her psychology class. Always sat in the same spot, ordering the same thing from the campus coffee cart: black coffee, no sugar. She was a creature of habit, which made her predictable. And predictability made my job easier.

There were countless rows of neatly stacked books on every subject known to man. "I'm looking for a Nicholas Sparks classic," Olivia said. "The Notebook?" Asher guessed. She rolled her eyes. "Too mainstream and overrated. A walk to remember would do just fine," "There's a row for fiction," Asher pointed. At first, Olivia thought she was imagining the stares and whispers from a group of huddled women not far from their chosen row of books, but she wasn't imagining it. In fact, as she got closer, they didn't whisper anymore.

Hazel enjoys getting to know all of them, and she feels like she's making a difference in their lives, one book at a time. Hazel's favorite part of her job is hosting the weekly book club. It's a small group of about eight people, but they're passionate about reading and always have fascinating insights to share. One of the members, a woman named Margaret, is especially enthusiastic. She always brings snacks for the group and keeps everyone engaged in lively discussion. One day, Margaret comes in with a big smile on her face. "You'll never believe what happened!" she says. "I was at the grocery store, and I ran into a famous author!

I said with a smile. Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh! You're the Gonzalezes! In the Miller beach house! We're so glad someone is finally living there year-round." She leaned in conspiratorially. "We have a weekly book club. Tuesdays at ten. We're starting a new mystery next week. Nothing too taxing. We'd love to have you." A book club. The invitation was so ordinary, so wonderfully mundane. For a moment, the old Gwen surfaced—the one who scheduled meetings with senators and orchestrated multi-million-dollar legal strategies. But she was quickly quieted by the woman I was now.

Wright junior yelled, snapping his fingers at the six employees in the conference room, who were part of his team working on Fredrick Walsh new Book and were seated. “Sir, how about we get him to do Oprah?” Kendall the white, chubby, thick beard dude suggested. Looking at the others “I mean, we may love reading books and working on books but, there is a whole world out there that are career occupied, penniless and see reading as a complete waste of time. They need someone who they can trust to say, hey, stop watching those boring and unedifying network, read a book. Read a live changing, family enhancing book. And that person is OPRAH.” He said making a funny gesture with his hands which mad

Yet here I was, in this room full of people who had chosen me, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. I smiled, a real one this time, and sat at the center of the circle. April clapped her hands together, bubbling in excitement. “Okay, enough of the emotional display. Let’s get to work. Book Club is officially back in session!” Laughter filled the room. We started tossing around ideas for the next reading list, but the discussion quickly turned into a chaotic mess of inside jokes and playful teasing. Maya insisted we include something “dark and brooding,” while Sammy argued for something “funny, because God knows we all need to laugh more.” April rolled her eyes and wrote both

“You looked, I don’t know, peaceful.” “Honestly, this book is terrible,” Audrey said, holding up some thriller that I vaguely recognized. “I don’t know why the hell Annabelle has it on her shelf, but I fear for any of the recommendations she’s been giving out at the bookstore.” I suddenly realized where I recognized the book from. “Oh, that’s the one that all the book clubs were reading a while back,” I said. “She probably only got it because of that.” “Oh, that makes more sense,” Audrey said. There was an awkward silence. “So, are you going to sit down or what?”

He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified. Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”