Pippa Grant Books In Order Novels & Stories

Maybe they would have a family of their own. Pippa looked up suddenly, as if she could read the thoughts playing out in my head. Her eyes were watery, red-rimmed and tired. “Ever since they were small, I knew,” she whispered. “I knew they were each other’s first loves. I would sit on the porch with Kelly’s grandmother. We would talk about the future. We talked about what they would name their babies.” Her mouth trembled. The tears started falling again, faster this time.

At least until now… Love as Always Pippa X

"It's ordinary." "That's the same thing." --- The seventh book was different. Not a memoir — a children's book. About a garden, about a fig tree, about the dogs buried under its branches and the women who loved them. Beatriz's successor, Eva, was hesitant at first. "A children's book?" she said. "A book for everyone." --- I wrote about Orwell, the scruffy survivor. Pippin, the disaster with mismatched ears. Fig, the puppy who arrived in a crate. Oak, the quiet one, the watcher. And the women who buried them, who marked the stones, who never forgot.

“Together.” The sunlight streaming through the library windows had shifted to a mellow gold, catching dust motes in the air. We had been here since morning—surrounded by piles of parenting books, notebooks, and scattered sticky notes with phrases like feeding intervals and safe sleep positions. The smell of parchment and tea mixed with the faint floral scent of Seraphina’s hair. By afternoon, we were down to the last book on the stack—its title written in soft silver across the cover: From Pack Leader to Father: Transitioning with Grace.

“Madam, aren’t you going to Europe to take a break? Why…” Why are you bringing your textbooks along with you? Do you need to do homework? Sally smiled sheepishly. “My finals are coming soon… I need to start preparing for them…” Aunt Leigh sighed as she secretly took the books out. “Madam, you’re so hardworking…” Sally lowered her head to look at her phone and nodded. Evonne had sent her an entire checklist. “I want postcards from Europe!” “I want designer clothing from France!” “Makeup from England!”

They are all in a row, lined up by year. I run my fingers over them and yank out the oldest one. I might as well start from the beginning. This one has a name on the inside: Julianna Grant. My eyes widen and I swiftly sit back down in the living chair, this must be Alpha Grant's mother or grandmother. The book isn't ancient, so I don't go any further. I can't help but read the first entry. September 25th, 1991

July 5th Skye’s point of view “… And they all lived happily ever after.” Pippa’s eyes had shut and her breath fell softly. She didn’t stir as I set the fairy tale book on the dresser and tucked her underneath the blankets. I swept the wisps of brunette locks off her forehead with the tip of my finger and placed a gentle kiss on her delicate skin. “Sweet dreams, my love,” I whispered before turning to the lamp by her bed.

I had laughed then and received my first punch to the stomach. I tried not to laugh at the thought of the book I had reread a few weeks ago by Pippa Grant where the girl made dick cookies and had thousands of a deformed penises to someone, that someone was in another book with one of my favorite book boyfriends, Ares. I try to think back on the storyline of the book, so I don’t have to think about what is about to happen.

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I say, only half-joking. She purses her lips. “You were busy becoming famous and all. Me opening the shop wasn’t as cool.” I smack her butt with my sweatshirt before pulling it onto my body. “Shut up. I’m hardly famous. You’re known more around here than I am thanks to your kickass cupcakes.” Pippa rolls her eyes at me. “You were on like five morning talk shows because your book was sold out everywhere. Admit it, Mare, you’re famous.”