Summer Lists Novels & Stories

Summer sat cross-legged on her bed as she read Saul's message. "Are you done with everything? I want to meet up and discuss some details." "In two more days," Summer replied. "Sounds good. Let me know when you confirm the time," Saul responded. "Okay." Summer stretched herself lazily. She ignored the messages from Anthony and tossed her phone to the side. "Phoebe, it's really late. I'm getting sleepy. Can I skip packing? It's just a two-day and one-night trip." Phoebe chuckled and said, "I'm already done. Ms. Hartford, get some rest. I won't disturb you anymore."

“And that's how you get the job done, Sum.” Summer looked at me. “We should form an acapella group,” she said, going serious. “You're really good with the whole high pitching thing.” I chuckled. “Focus on your babysitting skills first, Sum. Then we'll talk.” She chuckled. “You know, I think you're going to be a great mom someday,” she said, patting my back. “Don't ask. I just know it. And I'm never wrong about these things.” I smiled down at Charlotte who was having a saliva party.

Bethany's expression froze, the joy in her eyes vanishing as sheer panic took its place. The terror she felt was laid bare in front of Mitchell, and in that moment, it looked almost comical. Though it was the height of summer, Bethany felt a chill crawl over her skin, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She had already experienced the madness that Mitchell could descend into for Heather's sake, twice now, and the fear of reliving it a third time made her stomach turn.

She did not commit suicide or let those who harmed her drive her into madness. "Hello, Summer," Lisa greeted and introduced herself, "I'm Lisa Quest. I've heard of you from Serenity and Clara, and I don't find you a stranger. In fact, I feel connected to you." Lisa had always been very open and straightforward. She immediately treated Summer like a friend. Summer chuckled. "Hello. I've heard of you from Clara as well. I'm happy I finally get to meet you. I'll be staying in Solaria, so we can gather more often here."

What do normal people do when they come to Crete for a summer vacation? They probably post photos on I*******m with captions like "Sun, sea, sand #blessed," sip ouzo in the evenings, smash plates, and just soak up that effortless island vibe. And what am I doing? I’m covering my ears with my hands, counting prime numbers backward in my head, and trying not to lose my absolute mind. I am in a literal marathon to stay sane.

THE SUMMER I LOST MY ‘V’ CARD DISCLAIMER Dearest Lanee Reader, This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. This book and all its content are protected. No part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted, electronically transferred, or distributed in any form without the express written permission of the author. Unauthorized use may result in legal action. Every word in here means something to me, please respect that.

It was a beautiful summer day in August. Everything shone in the most beautiful and strongest colors I had ever seen. It smelled wonderfully of flowers. The sky was as blue as the sea. Just beautiful. You couldn't see a single cloud on the horizon. The trees provided shade that protected you from the sun, which almost burned your skin like fire.

"It was. I would spend the whole summer in my room. Just waiting for it to end." "And now?" "Now I love summer. Now summer means this. The beach and the sun and my family. Now summer means happiness." I pulled her into a hug. "I am so glad you are here, Lily. I am so glad you are part of our family." She hugged me back. "I am glad too, Mom. I am so glad." The summer passed in a blur of lazy days and warm nights. We went to the beach almost every day. We explored the village and met new people. We made memories that would last a lifetime.

I hate summer. Don't get me wrong - I love sunshine. I love fireflies and clear, starry nights and drinking iced tea in the shade. I'm not usually a grouch, I swear. But people who believe that's what summer is - the iced tea and fireflies and all that - haven't experienced a real Atlanta summer. Or at least they haven't inherited the overactive sweat glands that I did. Thank you, Blankenship genes.

Those moments in the utility closet were the last I saw of him. My friends and I spent the summer basking in the sun, grilling, and playing in the backyard. We would have some plan or another every weekend, everything from attending concerts to holding water gun tournaments—in which Betty eventually arose as the undefeated champion—to barbecues filled with the scent of smoked meat and cold beer. All in all, it was an idyllic summer; late nights catching fireflies in mason jars, reading in shafts of sunlight, sewing in my little attic room.