Shauna Shipman X Reader Novels & Stories

I want to ask, but I don’t think that’s something you just ask because I don’t want to sound like the crazy one here. “I ended up signing my book Duke of The Night with the indie publisher Phantomedia under the name Dawn Phoenix. It was a coincidence that my editor was Byron Grey.” She explained. “I thought you said you met him online. If he’s your smut publisher, how is that online?” I questioned. “It’s not smut. It’s paranormal historical fiction romance.” Shannon scoffed indignantly at my choice of words. “Is more than fifteen percent of the book sex?” I arched my brow. She didn’t have to answer. She turned bright pink, which said it all.

Shawna gushed as she stood up and placed the magazine back on the desk before firmly grasping Scarlett's hand. "She's Mrs Hawthorne," said Scarlett, waving at Marybeth. "I'm so sorry, my mistake," Shawn apologised with a brilliant smile. Nodding at the magazine, she continued, "I hope you don't mind that I kept myself entertained." "Of course not!" Marybeth lied as she glanced around the room, making sure everything was in its place. She relaxed visibly, relieved that nothing important, like Iris' file and papers detailing Austin's shady business dealings, had been left in the open. Shawna Adams was going to be a handful if her itchy hands were anything to go by.

“We could take a few shots of me reading on the beach. I haven’t done that before. Is this one of those books that will make me look smart?” “Yeah, I guess we could. It’s just a romance novel, I don’t know if your followers will think it makes you smart, but it might make you a little more relatable to some people.” “Smart people read, Shelby. You, of all people, should know that. Maybe I will stop getting all those mean comments about being stupid. I can caption it ‘steamy reading on the beach.’” Lauren took her place on the lounge in a very photogenic pose that made her look graceful while still artfully showing off her cleavage. She opened the book and draped it over herself, careful no

Shauna Flanagan. Holland Flanagan. The marble gleamed, polished and cared for, though she had no doubt it was Reid who made sure of that. The dates carved into stone felt cruel, they both had years that ended way too soon, a story cut short by their own trusted family member. She remembered Shauna’s auburn hair, the flash of sunlight on water, the desperate arms pulling her out. That memory felt sharper now, as if standing here had blown the dust off it and she can see the woman in her pretty, raw form.

he asked innocently. “If you say so, but don’t tell Langrey I agreed with you, alright?” Shia said, positively amused. “I’m not Nana, by the way. You can call me Shia.” “Shia,” he said, “Alright, Shia. Do you like to read this book with me? Fina is always too busy to read. She just hangs around when Danterion is here, and the Tainted One hates books, so I can only read when he’s asleep.”

“There’s one right here in Aldervolf!” “What? You?” “No, silly.” Shania took her phone and showed us a picture of an old bookshop. It looked familiar. “Here. Her name’s Vevila Callaghan and I’m telling you, she’s legit.” “How do you know?” a guy beside Shania asked. “Have you done this before?” “Princess Selina, a moment?” Patrick said, tapping my knee to get my attention. I didn’t get to hear Shania’s answer, but thinking about the idea that a pretty girl like her would d*rug some poor guy for his affection...

" he cursed while roaming his hands all over his face when he remembered Erina informing him of Shanaya's plan to extend her leave from a week to two weeks. .................................................... "Will you spill it up??" looking at Shanaya who seemed to be busy in reading "The Chosen", Aksar spoke, again. The two of them was sitting in Aksar's room and, as her habit of possessing bed of others, Shanaya was lying freely on his bed. "Do not disturb me, baby. I am busy reading!" not tearing her eyes away from the novel, Shanaya spoke with desperation. She really wanted Aksar to shut up!

The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71. I found the second shelf on the case and scanned for my next book. Book thirteen had a cover of deep purple. I frowned at the woman looking up at me, scanning over her tangled fiery curls, the cinnamon freckles across her nose, and the way her emerald eyes seemed to twinkle at me from the cover. Her hair and eyes were the only familiar thing about her. My face was a bit rounder than hers, and definitely held a bit more baby fat. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full, conventionally beautiful in a wild sort of way. I felt that twinge of guilt as I looked down at the cover. “Sasha Burnette, Game 51.”

Thousands of abandoned books rested upon the silent sand. Some were half-buried. Others lay open, their pages completely blank. The woman whispered, "These are all unfinished stories..." The First Reader nodded. "Every story abandoned by its Author eventually arrives here." Adrian stepped onto the cold sand. The moment his foot touched the shore... every abandoned book trembled. One by one... their pages began turning. Not by wind. By recognition. A faint whisper rose from every direction. "Author..." "Please..." "Finish us..." Thousands of voices.

was now a desperate, digital stutter. "This is... impossible! The profit margins! The narrative arc! You are breaking the—" "The market is closed, Auditor," Hope Thorne-Vance interrupted, her voice booming across the solar system, synchronized with her father’s rhythm. "The Reader has performed a Full-Equity Buyout. We aren't your 'assets' anymore. We are a Independent Reality." Hope reached out her hand in New York, and Julian reached out his hand on Mars. Through the miracle of the Reader’s attention, their fingers met across the four light-minutes of space.