Quiet Book Reviews Novels & Stories

"And what makes you qualified to judge me?" "I have a master's degree from overseas!" Donald snapped, his temper finally breaking. "You think that's not enough? You crawled out of some backwater company, and you think you get to challenge me…" "Who said SkyTech Group is a backwater company?" A cold voice suddenly cut in from behind us.

“Careful!” Harry shoved past me, striding straight toward Chloe to catch her. I hadn’t expected it, and the impact sent me crashing into the sharp corner of the vanity table. Harry didn’t even notice. His eyes stayed fixed on Chloe’s stomach as he said with a trace of concern, “The doctor said your pregnancy isn’t stable. You need rest. Don’t move around so much.” Ignoring the searing pain in my back, my gaze locked onto the pendant in her hand. My voice trembled as I said, “Ms. Finley, that’s my mother’s keepsake. Please, give it back to me.”

That lame excuse made me snicker, and I pointed at the sky. “If Henry learns that you even took care of his wife in bed, will he come back as a ghost to haunt you?” His face turned even paler, but he could not say anything back. “Luna, you’re the only one I love. I only slept with Winnie once…” I shook my head. “I don’t need such cheap love.”

Emma stepped into the bookstore like she was entering a chapel. The bell above the door chimed softly, and the familiar scent of old pages and new bindings wrapped around her like a blanket. Jake and Lila followed behind her, their footsteps quiet on the wooden floors. A table near the entrance displayed the new releases. Front and center, stacked in neat rows, was her book. The Language of Quiet. Her name below the title shimmered faintly in the morning light streaming through the windows.

Sadly, until I get justice for my parents then I can wish for love. Quinn carries a large folder with him which steals all my attention. It has torn edges and papers that are slipping off. I grab one that is about to fall. I turn it. It has animated drawings with short narration. As I skim through I realize it is a draft for children's book. "You write?" My shock is evident in my high pitch tone. He snatches it back, "none of your business." He barks. I am still amused, "Who would have thought the hardcore Quinn wrote children books."

Thank you all for reading my book. This is my second book on good novel and I hope you all enjoy it. 'Quagmire' is a romance novel which possesses a lot of twists, turns, complications but still enough romance to keep it interesting and thrilling. The book is an entire work of fiction and is not intended to make mockery or downgrade any kind of individual.

“Even the things I should have listened to sooner.” I swallow hard. “Why bring me here?” “Because this place is calm. Quiet. Gentle. And I want you to have moments that feel like this.” Something inside me softens, almost painfully. “You can pick a book if you want,” he adds awkwardly. “Or we can just look around.” I smile without meaning to. “Thank you,” I say. “This is… thoughtful.” He looks relieved. “Good.” We walk slowly between the shelves. I let my fingers brush across the spines. There’s something soothing about the silence. No business talk. No tension. No threats. Just the soft rustle of pages.

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.

Meanwhile, here I am, an ocean away, just starting my first year at Oxford. As the first light of dawn crept into the library, I found my perfect spot at a sun-kissed table, diving into a hefty book that promised a deep dive into the world of knowledge, free from any distractions. Come the weekend, my mom and I strolled through the park near by. With a warm smile, she handed me a steaming cup of cocoa. "Feeling better now?" I grinned back, my heart full. "Mom, I can't thank you enough for sticking by me."

The familiar sequence — key in the lock, the slight resistance of the door, the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then Anne herself, stepping in with the exhaustion of someone who had been holding other people together all day. She dropped onto the couch. “Tell me the evening is going to be quiet.” “I made food,” Joy said. “You’re my favourite person.” They ate on the couch. No television. Just the quiet shift into evening. Joy was quieter than usual. “How was your day?” Anne asked. “Quiet. You?” Anne exhaled. “Tiring. One of my clients was having a harder day. Those ones stay with you.”