Seventeen Novel Novels & Stories

Arya We only have a week left of being at the cabin before we need to go back to our real lives. My book is nearly done! Which is amazing! It usually takes me longer to write, but I think this one was easier because of the experiences I’ve had this summer.

Chapter One - Sylvie Slam! The door to the café bursts open. The cold winter breeze whips through the small shop, rustling the loose strands of my ebony hair. Momentarily distracted, I barely notice the hard wall of a body until it is too late. Crash! The sound of several ceramic mugs shattering against the unforgiving concrete floor jolts me back into awareness. As if making a huge mess wasn't bad enough, the sound echoed throughout the room and now several, if not all, eyes in the café have been drawn to me. As the spilt coffee slowly spreads across the floor, so too does the hot, red flush of embarrassment across my cheeks.

Again and again and again and again and— She presses her fingers to her sternum. Breathes. The candle gutters as a draft moves through the room. The flame holds. She is seventeen years old. She lives inside the most hidden territory on the continent, protected by the most ancient bloodline in the known world, surrounded by women who have devoted their lives to preserving hers. She has never been to war. She has never been in danger. She has, by every material measure available to her, been perfectly safe since the moment she was born.

Mira at Seventeen She turned seventeen in the summer of the fifteenth year and the birthday had the specific quality of seventeen in a life that had been built with intention from the beginning — not the drama of fifteen or the completeness of thirteen or the gravity of ten. The quality of seventeen was a kind of confident forward motion, the birthday of a person who understands what they are doing and is doing it.

She could see herself building a home here with Caleb, and Scarlet, and Ruth. If they pressed on with their missions, how might that affect her relationship with Caleb? Or even endanger Scarlet or Ruth? It seemed that whenever she got close to finding another key, bad things started to happen. Caitlin slowly set down the brittle piece of paper, and stared, instead, at her unopened journal before her, sitting on the desk. It was now worn, thick with use, looking like a relic in its own right. She reached out and slowly pulled back the pages, turning them all the way until she nearly reached the end of the book. She realized, with a start, that there weren’t that many blank pages left. She cou

Yeah, I'm trying :'( By the way, my new book is called "His Seven Days Mate". It's an ABO verse of werewolf. I'm invested in that book for quite a while so I really hope you guys should check that out :x Thank you :x And I'm back to my nest, crying out loud for my stupidity for now :'(

Chapter 1 Understanding Isabella Seventeen. 17 years of life. 17 years of waiting. Waiting for this boring life to have... well life. Everyday it’s just the same damn thing. Wake-up, school, sleep. I have been doing this school thing for most of my life and I can’t say it's fun. I have but only two friends. Who are amazing! Let’s just say I’m not that popular. I’m more on the nerdy side—well if dumb nerds exist.

Hestia explains, as if reading my mind, “Us workers also get to partake in the festivities and enjoy ourselves. My, it has been a while since they have had one though.” “He has sisters,” I ask, raising an eyebrow as we walk back through the kitchen. “Oh, yes,” She nods, “He has four sisters. The youngest being 26. They’re all close in age, I’m sure that you will get along swimmingly.” “If they’re anything like Anthony, I highly doubt it.” I mutter.

They never did. ————- Author’s Note Hey loves! 🖤 Welcome to Twenty Seven Days— I’m so excited you’re here for this one because this story has been living in my head for a long time and I think you’re going to feel every single word. A few things before we dive in: This book is a slow burn. Like, a real one. I know, I know — but I promise every chapter is building something and when it pays off, it’s going to HIT. Scarlett and Xavier are both incredibly guarded people and watching them crack each other open is the whole story.

Seventeen was supposed to be sweet. The cultural narrative sold to me was one of brightness and gold—a last rush of youth where you were supposed to be carefree, floating through plans with friends and late-night, cinematic memories. But my seventeen didn’t shine. It didn’t glow. Mine felt heavy. Mine felt older than I was, carrying a weight that belonged to a different decade. And the bulk of that weight came from the quiet, agonizing shift happening between me and Raymond.