The Book About My Idle Plot Novels & Stories

I stole it from him because he forbids me of touching his things in his workplace. The book title was "Beauty In Immortality", I wondered what is it all about but my forehead wrinkled when nothing was written inside the book. All of the pages were blank. I throw it in my bed and days passed. I opened it and started to see some words slowly written on the first page. It was magical like it was a book of magic. It was also creepy but I was interested and there I read a weird story that I realized was talking about me.

Because she needed to understand what it was before she tried to explain it to someone else. She understood on Sunday. She was sitting in the courtyard of the gallery. The renovation crew had gone home for the weekend. The space was quiet and dusty and slowly becoming what she had imagined. Elena was in the carrier on her chest, asleep in the afternoon sun, and Lia had the notebook open on her knee. She was reading back what she had written and she realized it was a book. Not finished. Not even close to finished. But the shape of a book was there. A real one. The kind that started with a woman deciding to take her life back and ended somewhere she couldn't quite see yet but knew the directio

"Find something interesting?" I hid journal. Riven stood in the doorway, looking at me with mild curiosity. My mind raced. I couldn't let him see what I was reading. I grabbed another book from the shelf at random, holding it up. "Just looking at old poetry collections. I didn't think anyone still wrote like this." Riven's eyebrows rose as he crossed the room to see what I was holding. When he read the title, his mouth curved into a surprised smile. "Odes to Agricultural Prosperity? That's what you're reading for fun?"

Feeling strangely exhausted, sore and hungry, Jayler went downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat, where he found his sister reading a book at the kitchen table. "You're still awake?" Joyce noticed him. "I can't sleep" Jayler replied. "What are you reading?" He asked while opening the fridge and then grabbing a banana. "The Midnight Romance" Still focusing on the pages, Joyce replied. "What's with that book?" said Jayler, while peeling the banana. Somehow he's eager to hear something about this infamous book and this is weirdly the second time during the day that he had heard about it, and accumulatively it would be the third time all in all. Did Richard really wrote that? He aske

Recalling how the stranger had busted in earlier, I could only imagine what kind of job he had to afford to own such a lavish home… If he owned this anyway. Isaiah’s eyes looked down. “Through the trees, aye?” “Huh?” “Your book,” He pointed towards my book, and I immediately flushed; the cover faced him, which had a very shirtless man embracing a very not-so-covered woman. “Oh,” I spat out a little too loud of a laugh, and my hands covered the book. “Yeah, I like to read.” Duh Valerie. “I- I couldn’t sleep so I came out and tried to calm my nerves which apparently isn’t helping because I’m still awake,” The words jumbled out of me but Isaiah didn’t seem to mind.

He raises a brow suspiciously at me, and I can’t help the betraying smile that splits my lips. “What were you thinking about just now, you little squirt?” Sal shifts slightly on the bed, and both our heads snap toward him. But he’s still asleep. How much longer will he sleep? **** Hi, loves. Just putting this out here. Been brewing a new book under wraps. It's an MxM book as well, but not under the mafia world… I intend it to be softer and a bit more colourful than the mafia’s boy toy. With characters I’m sure you'll love as well. Upon the completion of this book, I’ll put out its first few chapters. Hopefully you’d like it.

The isolation that had once been about survival was now about peace. Raven sat on the porch swing, a laptop balanced on her knees as she worked on the book that had become her passion project. The working title was "Justice Served Cold: A Story of Redemption and Revenge," though she was still debating whether to publish it under her real name or maintain the fiction of Raven Steele.

Her expression dulls a bit, and the twinkle in her eyes becomes unreadble. I feel a bit unnerved by her statement, unsure of what to think or feel. "I think it's safe to say none of the sex in that book is 'just sex.'" "I guess that's true." We sit in a somewhat uncomfortable silence and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. "What were you reading?" She asks. "Some random Sci-Fi novel I found at a garage sale." I hand her the book. The dust jacket wasn't on the book when I picked it up. So it appears plain and uninviting. Just a deep green fabric stretched tight over the boards that bind the book together.

doing nothing and bored, I was sorting out my secondary school things and found a lot of my stuff. . . . Numerous story plots in different jotters, doodles, real drawings, poems and songs . . . all by me 🤦🏽‍♀️ . . . The Alacrimia (I hadn't forgotten the word) plot caught my eye most and I just knew I had to start writing it. So, I got a new jotter and plotted the book out ( I mostly just plotted out Part the First, but I jotted every other thing down)

"But it also has the navigational coordinates for a harbor I had no idea existed. It has the stars I was shown to navigate by. It has the story of the man who became my true north." He opened the book. The pages squeaked in the still room. "I want to read a bit," he said to them. "This is from a chapter called 'The Architecture of a Heart.'" He opened the book. His voice started softly, hesitantly, but as he got into the rhythm of his own words, it steadied, finding a quiet force. He read not of the billion-dollar deals or the media frenzy, but of the calm, scary instant in his former apartment, facing down an eviction notice and a swamped credit card, wondering if his ideals were something