Seventeen Books Novels & Stories

he shrugged, stepping closer. "A little? You have at least thirty books on that shelf." His lips twitched with a smile. "Thirty five," "Oh my god! I can't believe this. I thought you'd be like a forty eight laws of power kind of man. Or Atomic Habits. You're reading Harlequin and Silhouette desires!" I gaped.

said Davin, settling on the other side of the booth beside Marla. I remembered the blanket and flung it off, not wanting to look like a coddled infant while we were working. It was all right when just my Beta and Gamma were present, but the library was a spot favoured by my pack when the rain came. “A select few?” Marla scoffed. “Dav, you need to rethink your definition of few.” “There are… ten books here,” I said, flicking my fingertip upwards as I counted them. “That constitutes a few to me.” Davin shrugged.

Kennedy POV. The weather was bad, but I needed to get that new book, it's Robert birthday gift, who'd knew a grown up man would kill for the newest werewolf love book. I got into my car, drove carefully toward the local book store, they had the new book reserved for me. It was supposed to one quick drive, until I walked into the library. A girl was sitting on a bean bag, her blond hair was covering her eyes with overgrown bangs, she tried to huff them away from her face but to no use. She looked young, maybe she's just here with her parents, looking down at the book she had in her hands it was a kids story. Does she read for the local kids? Or is it just for her?

Still in shape, preserved where time never runs to eat and fade everything away. Winona draws a cunning smile on her face, as she said. “Still as pristine. I wonder if that book is still in here.” She teasingly thought. Knew and all along that the book that she means is still placed and secure within the protection of the library. The book that she loves to read from way past and always, the only book that contains the information of the seven existing worlds. “Seven deadly sins, seven worlds, and the seven books. Maybe I’ll spare a little time to read it again.”

Adrian happily pulled Seventeen to the sofa and let him sit down. After Seventeen sat down, Adrian started to ask his 100,0000 questions, and Seventeen cooperated with Adrian and answered his questions. Then there was a question and answer. Adrian: “Uncle Seventeen, why are you called Seventeen? Is it because you are ranked seventeen?” Seventeen replied, “Yes.” Adrian asked again, “Uncle Seventeen, are you good at fighting?” “Yes.” Adrian asked, “Does Uncle Seventeen like Adrian?”

said Manuever when he approached us, he immediately followed with me so I was like that and left the room. Kindred's Point Of View We are here now in one of the libraries, Manuever is taking a book so Zenith left us here. She looks bored and fun to watch. "Woah! How many books they have in here?" I admire the place, it's very spacious and half of it is the floor. Everywhere I look I see books. "About 416,278…" I heard Zenith say while looking at the globe. Did she count all the books?

I never meant to stay this late. The university library usually kicked everyone out by ten, but I’d sweet-talked Mr. Kane into letting me finish pulling books for my thesis. He was the quiet type, the one who barely looked up from his desk most days. Tall, dark hair always a little messy, glasses that made his green eyes sharper. I’d had a crush on him since freshman year. Pathetic, right? A twenty-one-year-old student crushing on the thirty-something librarian who probably saw me as just another noisy undergrad.

We stood there, fear and hope braided together, knowing the world would keep watching, judging, testing. But for now, I felt something rare. Not certainty. But safety in the choosing. And that at seventeen felt like everything.

On the nineteenth day after giving birth, I told my mother something felt wrong. She didn't even look up. "Who isn't exhausted after having a baby? I didn't have anyone helping me after I gave birth, and I still got through it." After that, I stopped talking about it. At night, when Noah cried, I got up to warm his bottle. My hands shook so badly that I dropped it on the floor. Carol ran out of her room barefoot. The first thing she said was, "Are you doing this on purpose?" Once, a nurse from the clinic came out for a postpartum home visit and asked how I was feeling. Before I could answer, my mother cut in. "What could possibly be wrong with her? She eats my food, lives under my ro

Keeley “Domino.” Chewing on my lip I stared unseeing at the TV ahead. My whole body was aching, and I hadn’t even taken my boots off. The constant moving from one place to another was taking its toll. And with every new town and fleabag hotel, I could feel my spirit sapping away a little bit more.