The Notebook Rating Novels & Stories

I walked back into the bedroom and crawled under the covers. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I was too horny. I decided to get up and watch some TV for a little while. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. It was 6: 15 a. m. I flipped through the channels until I found something that I liked. It was a movie called "The Notebook" . I sat down on the couch and pulled up the blanket to cover myself. I scooted closer to the end of the couch so I could rest my head on the cushion. I laid there for about an hour watching this movie.

a spiral-bound notebook? With exaggerated care, as if handling some priceless artifact, Caleb set the notebook on the table before her. Lila recognized it instantly - the very same journal he'd commandeered during their last confrontation, now being returned of his own volition. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting between the proffered item and Caleb's unreadable expression as she tried to divine the trap surely hidden within this unexpected olive branch. But Caleb merely nudged the notebook closer, then withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket. With deliberate movements, he flipped open to a blank page and began to write. Lila watched, mystified, as his meaty hand laboriously traced out a

The first thing I noticed was the notebook. Soft leather. Ivory-colored. Elegant but simple. My fingers brushed across the cover, and my heart skipped when I saw the gold foil lettering pressed perfectly into the surface. A.D. My initials. How were they able to do that! I slowly opened it, running my thumb along the thick cream pages. The paper felt expensive…smooth, almost silky. The kind of notebook you wouldn’t want to ruin with messy sketches. The kind that made you want to draw something worthy of it.

That's why he was a bit cold towards her, and she had never quarreled with him. What if the notebook was written for her, expressing the love he had never shown? Whatever it was, she...really wanted to take a look. As her anticipation and excitement grew stronger, Anita took a deep breath and finally walked into the study. She would just take a quick look and leave! She walked to the desk as if she had done it many times before. In her memory, the notebook was in the third drawer underneath the desk. She listened carefully to the sounds outside before pulling the drawer.

Nestie asked, a bit doubtful if the blog really does exist. "She said she'd give it a title that I won't forget." Toto chortled as he looked at his notebook. "She called it 'Toto's Notebook'. You can look it up now if you like." "I’ll do that now," said Nestie and he brought out his phone to search for Toto’s Notebook on Blogspot. “Wow! It is live!” Nestie was surprised. “I see there are only five chapters.” “Yes. It will be longer when I finish,” said Toto.

“You’re right. I usually don’t. But I do want to see what you picked.” I hesitated, then slid the box toward him. His fingers brushed mine as he picked it up. That touch… my chest fluttered. He opened the box slowly, carefully, and his eyes widened, just a fraction, before masking it again. “You made this?” he asked softly, holding a custom leather-bound notebook with our initials subtly embossed. “Sabrina… this is…” His jaw flexed. “Thoughtful. Very… thoughtful.” “I thought you might… like it,” I whispered.

With a need that mirrored mine so perfectly it was terrifying. And I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t. I forced myself to look away and pulled the first assignment from the stack. Focus, Gabriel. Grade the damn papers. The first few were routine—solid B work from students who actually listened. Then I reached one that stopped me cold. The notebook was identical to the black leather one I had seen Anna with. I doubted she had done the assignment herself. I opened it. Anna McGiver in elegant script across the top. And beneath her name, in smaller letters:

Her eyes widened. Immediately: SHOW THE REST. Seen. Reply: No. She stared. Immediately called. He answered already smiling. Suspicious. She pointed at the screen. “What was that?” He blinked. “What?” She narrowed her eyes. “The notebook.” He looked thoughtful. “Oh.” Too calm. She glared. He started smiling again. Then said— “That wasn’t for you.” Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?” He nodded. “Private.” She stared. Then said— “You made me curious on purpose.”