Summer House Book Novels & Stories

I struggled to remember, haunted by a word written in bold letters and underlined—“Transformation.” Lucy’s house is huge. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly live in a shoebox, but she has five bathrooms—five. And there are only four people in her house! And her bedroom has a little alcove in it where she has a sofa, sort of like my sister’s room, except it is not supposed to be the master. She has a pool and a big back yard with lots of flowers in it and even a fountain. Seriously. A fountain.

A sickening dread filled my gut. My history with Summer was as complicated as it was simple. We'd met as infants at Seasmoke - a clandestine area of Myrtle Beach - when my folks bought their seasonal home. Ian Memmer's family, the boy who'd grown up next door to her and her father, had just purchased the house beside ours. Rick O'Callahaun was another good friend of hers she'd grown up with, and his folks vacationed with the Memmers and Quinns.

And my little girl finally knows who I am and I am ashamed that I ignored her to make my own life easier. *** Manzitti *** We pull up outside the packhouse and Delta Billy comes to greet us. Slayne and Ivan call for others to help take the bags and boxes up to my apartment. I collect Summer from the back seat and carry her while I hold Helen’s hand, standing proudly in front of the packhouse. “Welcome home, girls, this is where you belong now.” Summer claps her hands and then tries to get down to explore. I place her on the ground, and she puts her arms up in the air. “BIG”, she shouts, and she is not wrong. The pack house is huge, much bigger than their little house they are used to and fil

Maybe I will like living with him. Maybe I will like him and he will like me. Maybe life will be good. I will make this work. We will make this work. I am not sure how I can possibly do that, but I will. We drive up a hill, and the trees clear. "We're home," Jeremiah says. I startle, and put a hand on my chest to try to calm my breathing. I look out the window as a large, white mansion comes into view. It is beautiful. It is three stories high, with white columns and large, white double doors.

The bells on the doorknob jingled in time with the beach-glass wind chimes, and she at last stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed with a peaceful joy. Perhaps the only thing that could dull the moment was knowing no one was home to welcome her with open arms, no immediate sight to greet her of Adelaide pottering around the big open kitchen, the butcher block counters littered with pots and pans in anticipation of one of her famous clambakes or lobster boils. Aiden plopped her bags down inside the door with a sigh and dropped her keys in the dish on the sideboard table, as she ever had, before heading over to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the way through the open-plan first story, he

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.

If the family grew any larger, they'd have to start renting two houses for their summer vacations. "You sure?" His voice dropped to a husky rumble, and all thoughts of canopies and children's books disappeared from Summer's mind. She looked up at him and smiled. Who did she think she was fooling? She'd known from the moment he appeared on her beach that they'd end up in the same bed sooner rather than later. "I'm sure. It's the one at the far end of the hallway."

Summer Love. I didn't think the summer part mattered. Sure we did fall in love during the summer. That doesn't mean I didn't expect it to last past that. It didn't matter to me that he was Nathan Kalis's school-bad boy. To me, he was just Nathan. The man couldn't go more than ten minutes before demanding a kiss. Who always wanted me to cuddle into him. And who loved listening to me read my books out loud.

When Zachary caught my lower lip between his own, a tingling numbness spread through half my body. “Mmph… release me…” Though my words were meant as a refusal, they emerged in a voice so soft and breathless that I barely recognized it as my own. “Zachary, stop kissing me… I feel terribly warm. What is happening to me?” Zachary gave no reply. Without warning, he lifted me into his arms. Startled, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck as his voice, low and almost hypnotic, brushed against my ear. “Let us not sleep in separate beds tonight. Harriet, judging by the strength of the highly potent perfume, my father seems rather eager for us to consummate the marriage. How could we possib

progressive-markdown_:is(p,blockquote,ul,ol,h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6)]:pr-8"> _*]:min-w-0 gap-3 standard-markdown"> Julia — First-Person POV Summer arrived the way summers did after difficult years — with a particular generosity, as though the season understood it owed something. The estate in June was unrecognizable from the estate I had first walked into — not structurally, not architecturally, but in the specific way that spaces were transformed by the people who inhabited them and the choices those people made about what kind of life to build inside the walls.