Penelope Lively Books Novelas e Histórias

Penelope had gone back to her room to take a short nap. She finished the book she held and shut it. Walking slowly towards the large bookshelf, she dropped it and picked another one. "Taming her wild heart." She read the title out loud. Her eyes lit up at the erotic book cover. It was a picture of a man with dark hair and dreamy eyes. A blonde haired woman straddled him on a bed, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. The picture reminded her of Henry and the intimate moment they shared in the bathroom some nights ago.

“Penelope.” But the girl was far gone, too intoxicated by her fangirl high. “I can’t believe this! I mean, I’ve read every one of your books , like, a hundred times. I memorized the dialogue of Crimson Shadows. Don’t even get me started on your main character’s monologue in Velvet Lies, oh my God, the way you crafted that line? Literal chills. Literal chills. And your artistry in…” Her words poured out in rapid-fire, unstoppable, each sentence crashing over the last.

The article cleverly disguised Penelope's real name and was divided into three parts: beginning, middle, and end. Joey was better at evoking emotions than I was. She took the material I provided and added dramatic flair to make Penelope's story even more heart-wrenching. For example, she described how Penelope was left alone at home without warm clothing in the midst of winter while her aunt and uncle indulged in gambling. Penelope shivered as she went out to gather firewood to keep warm. Upon returning, her aunt and uncle, having lost money, accused her of stealing food and subjected her to beatings, leaving her standing in the snow, on the brink of freezing to death.

Penelope felt a familiar pang of jealousy – but she pushed it down, focusing on her goal. As Leo ran toward his friends, Mrs. Penelope moved closer to the playground, finding a spot on a bench under a large oak tree. She pulled out a small notebook and pen, pretending to work while she watched the children play. After a few minutes, she noticed Leo sitting alone on the edge of the sandbox, drawing pictures in the sand with a stick. She stood up and walked over to him, her face arranged in a warm, friendly smile. “Hello there, Leo. I’m a friend of your dad’s – we work together sometimes.”

Chapter 29 - Pretend Penelope I felt like I was in a dream, one I never wanted to wake up from. The air in Kailani smelt so crisp and fresh that it felt like I was breathing for the first time. The flowers were so bright and full of life as they danced in the breeze, moving with such grace as the birds above us sang a beautiful melody. I felt as if I had just entered a painting.

What could be more appropriately descriptive of a storm this magnitude than Weightlifting 101, Swimming for Dummies, Complete Idiot’s Guide to Submerged Motorcycle Repair, Shirtless Tanning and Mudpack The-Easy-Way. And the list continues...

Penelope sat across from him, legs crossed, chattering animatedly with her hands. “…I swear, if I don’t get to wear something from Chanel or Dior, I might just die,” Penelope was saying, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was in a commercial. “We’re not just any pack. This is the Eldridge Pack’s anniversary—we can’t show up like peasants.” I kept my expression neutral. Just a maid. Just furniture with eyes. The Luna glanced up at my arrival. “Ah, Raine. Good. Just in time.”

Gina said as she sobbed. “Please, Gina. However it happens, I’ll be glad that you tried to save me and I’ll die happily knowing that you will continue from where I stopped. So wipe your tears now, you’re supposed to be strong. Go and take the spell book and look for the spell. You have to do this quickly, I don’t have any more time on my side. It’s either now or never I trust you.” Penelope said with a weak smile that didn't teach her eyes. She was losing a lot of strength and she was losing it quickly. Gina managed to pick her downcast self from the ground and rushed to get the spell book just like Penelope said.

They just finished having their baths. “Just one short story, please,” Penelope said next as she jumped on her bed, giving her that puppy dog eyes she usually used to get away with anything. Mercedes sighed softly, and relented. “Fine. Just one.” The kids squealed triumphantly, as Mercedes grabbed a book from the shelf, and sat cross-legged on Penny's bed to read, giving each character a voice of their own, and making the kids laugh so hard, that I find myself feeling both happy and jealous.

Penelope. I stay where I am, on the couch, a notebook open on my lap. I haven’t written anything meaningful in it all day. Just scribbles. Doodles. Adrian’s name in cursive, printed, tiny in the margins like some foolish girl trying to anchor herself in something good. “You’re not watching the news?” Penelope’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence anyway. I look up. Her face says everything before her words do—tense, unreadable.