Page 42 Bookstore Novels & Stories

There is no mate bond, but having him close makes me feel more secure. “I can’t wait for you to see this.” He rubs his thumb on the top of my hand as he leads me to a store. It’s rare Bronx gets so excited about surprising me. We approach a bookstore with a dusty, old window display. In gold paint, there is a picture of a pan flute and a goat. The images are peeling and sundried as if they’ve been there forever. Over the pictures are the words ‘The Barded Goat Used & Collectible Books’.

, someone announced on the stage which made me concentrate back to stage to see that my friend was about to start her performance and as soon as she hit the first cord of her vocals, all sort of negative energy just vanished atleast that is what I felt and also by this time the entire book store was mesmerized by her soulful voice and the light music was complementing it the best way possible but now all I could think about was all the possible assumptions which could give me any logical reason for the extremely weird energy of that place. At the end of the performance I moved towards my right to nearest book shelf which was of fiction category and it has always been my favourite genre as i

Ben, you're a miracle," Teresa groaned as she took off her shoes. Cheese pizza is exactly what I need right now. How was the meeting? - Order - the publisher agreed to small periodic orders, although they usually prefer large batches. “Dad, you blew them away with your charm,” Sammy laughed as she opened a cardboard box that smelled amazing of cheese. Ben chuckled. - No, honey, we're just the only bookstore in the whole area. And they have a new manager with a non-standard approach to sales. The Wylie family started to eat while jokingly, and Sammy was eager to go to his room and read some more. Teresa generously allowed her to take Jane Eyre, even though Sammy already had one edition, and h

I see a staircase near the bar and above it there's a mezzanine with some partitions, I think it's for the boxes. ************* Note: Don't forget to like, comment and share the book! This really helps it grow on the platform

“It’s sixty-four degrees out there Ebony. And if you tried covering them, you wouldn’t have that particular problem.” “You’ve seen my girls. It’d be a fucking crime against humanity.” Amber rolled her eyes and stepped aside to let her in. The clack of her boots echoed across the space as her almond shaped eyes took in Leo’s warehouse. The brick walls and steel beams. The glass paneled bathroom. Collection of quirky furniture. Commercial quality kitchen. And then to the man himself as he leaned against the counter beaming at her. “Hello Ebony. Nice to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Just delete the book from your library and add it back. Thank you! Sincerely yours Author Blackangel

As they strolled across the bridge, offering an incredible view of the water and the city, Caitlin looked closely: small tables lined the bridge, around which stood merchants and customers, all examining various piece of jewelry. He took her hand, and led her to a small booth. She looked down, and was amazed to see it filled with gold bracelets, necklaces, rings, pendants…. They all shone in the light. Caitlin fingered a bracelet. “Try it on,” he said, smiling. She shook her head and put it back. “I was just looking. I don’t have any money.” He picked it up. “Please,” he pleaded. “Money is no issue for our kind. I have money enough to last one thousand lifetimes, and one thousand more.”

Chapter Forty — Full Circle The bookstore was small, tucked between a coffee shop and a florist downtown. The kind of place Elena would’ve walked past a year ago, head down, shoulders tense, heart elsewhere. Today, her name was in the window. In chalky, hand-lettered script: AUTHOR EVENT: ELENA ROSE — READING & SIGNING She stood on the sidewalk and stared for a long time. Jack stood beside her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back. Lila pressed her face to the glass, giggling at the display of books and paper cranes hanging from fishing line like tiny messengers of hope.

Its cover read “Aurora Sparks.” “I’ll take this one,” I declared, lifting it off the shelf. The old man’s eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. “A fine choice. You have an eye for the unusual.” I handed him the book, and he produced a receipt. “That’ll be thirty dollars.” “Thanks,” I said, taking the receipt. “You’ll enjoy reading it in the eastern part of the store,” he suggested, nodding toward a dimly lit corner.

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.