Paperback Novel Size Novels & Stories

I walked over to the children's books area, I was thankful no one was around as I sat down in a beanbag after grabbing a few books to read. "Ella, stop slouching around and get to work" my manager yells at me, there was no one in the shop while I was sitting around here. I looked up to see a woman standing next to the register, I huffed angrily and put the book away before walking over to the nice looking lady. "Hi ma'am, how may I help you?" I ask the woman, she was only about five feet tall, with brown long hair and brown eyes. "Hello, I'm here for the new werewolf story" she says looking at me, I tried my best to hide under my own overgrown bangs.

“There are ten million authors, but tell me is it a paperback.” “Yes, it is,” I answered immediately. “Hold on a minute.” He answered and we could hear some sounds. “Excuse me, there is not a book like that, are you sure it isn’t a web novel?” “What is going on?” I whispered to myself. “No it is not a web novel, I have read the book, a classmate of mine has it.” “Then can you send a copy to me, it would make it even easier to search.”

I felt so grateful. I used my fingers to trace the lines of the book. To feel the texture of the front and back cover, I even decided to have a sneak peek with my fingers inside of the book. "Thank you. May I open my eyes now and have a look at it?" "Go ahead" The book slowly came into my vision that's my eyes uncovered itself. The book in my hand was twice my size and three times my weight. It had brown paper and its pages were written in blood. My body cringed when I opened the first page.

"Anyway, let's find The Yearling." Jane had to make herself follow Lucy. Her feet felt heavy with guilt. There it was. The book looked long, all right, longer than A Tale of Two Cities. It was definitely a thicker book, but maybe it was just printed on thicker paper. Jane made herself flip to the last page to check the page number: 400. Twenty-two pages shorter than A Tale of Two Cities. Jane grinned like a fool. Caroline had read a shorter book than her.

He does back, almost reverently, while I get down to my knees, and dig it out of the ash and leftover wood. And there it is, in all its glory. It is large; significantly large for a book, about two hands wide and two hand spans long. As Quain lifts it out of the debris, the air seems to thrum around it. 'Did you see that?' I gasp. 'What?' he asks. They both look genuinely confused, so I know they cannot see it. Why, though?

Most of them have only one picture on the page and are a quarter of the size of a regular book. "Shit." I say quietly. "I can't believe it still costs ten bucks for a book that only has six pages. I can get a two hundred page paperback at the grocery store for the same price." Tiffany smirks. "But does your two hundred page paperback have fur like this touchy-feely book with a tiger on the front?" "It has fur?" I grab it out of her hands and begin going through it, touching all the different pictures as I turn the pages.

Shelves lined with notebooks in every size, pens in neat rows, and blank journals stacked by the window. I moved to the notebooks and picked one up. "Too big," Duke said. I put it back. Found a smaller one—plain cover, nothing fancy, easy to carry in a pocket or a bag. I flipped it open. Blank pages, lined, the kind that didn't demand anything from you until you were ready. "That one," Duke said.

Her back and joints were stiff, her eyes were hurting from the non-stop reading, and she had already sneezed way too many times from the dust. The book she was reading now was a huge, oversized volume with thick leather binding, cracked along the spine. It probably weighed ten pounds, and was at least twelve inches wide and long. She had it opened to the middle of the book, and each page she turned crackled with age. The pages were thick, so much thicker than those of modern books, and yellow with age. It was a physically gorgeous volume, published in 1661, interspersed with hand-drawn illustrations, some of them in color. Caitlin turned the pages with the utmost care as she went, not wantin

It was small. She registered that first — the specific dimensions of it, smaller than a standard notebook, the kind that fit in a jacket pocket, dark green cover with a worn quality that was not aesthetic but actual, the wear of something that had been handled regularly over a period of time. She registered the weight of it, which was the dense weight of pages that had been written on rather than the airy weight of pages that hadn't. She registered the particular quality of its closure, the elastic band around it in the way of certain notebooks, the elastic gone slightly loose with age. She held it.

’ Nova sounded dejected while saying that. “No, I don’t.” After hissing from the pain I tried hiding the book again. Although my foot was still throbbing from the pain I was able to perform the ritual successfully. ‘You’re finally here!’ I jumped on the bed where Nova was sitting on and sighed. ‘Wait, did you grow bigger again?’ I raised my head and looked at the white fluff sitting on. He also grew small feet that’s half the size of my thumb. Nova’s feet looked like a puppy’s small paws, it didn’t have claws and the footprint is very different unlike standard animals.