Novel & Cerita The Pumpkin Spice Café Book Age Rating

HIGHLY RATED(18+) Author's warnings: THIS BOOK MAY CONTAIN HIGHLY SEXUAL CONTENT, ABUSE, ILLEGAL ACTIONS AND DEATH. IF YOU CANT WITHSTAND ANY OF THIS MENTIONED ABOVE, KINDLY PASS BECAUSE IT'S NOT FOR THE WEAK. --------------- Copyright ©️ 2022 by Precious Elohor

®All Rights Reserved. Diana Matthew ©Copyright 2022 Before you start reading this book... The content of this book is explicit, if you are underage and cannot handle such content. Please, Do Not Read This but, if you continue, you are agreeing to being exposed to content that is not suitable for people with immature mindset. If you see anything you do not like, PLEASE DO NOT BLAME THE AUTHOR. Do not say I didn't warn you. 18+🔞

The book is an entire work of fiction and is not intended to make mockery or downgrade any kind of individual. I will put in as much effort as I can into the book so as to entice you all, however, the book is strictly rated 18, as there will be scenes that may be inappropriate for very young readers. I will also ensure to update very often and complete the book as soon as possible, for the meanwhile, I wish that you all support me by commenting and please if you have any issues with any of the character, come for them and not me as they are designed in such way. No criticism and insults, most importantly No Copyright. With all that being said, carry on!!

If I was going to have dinner with Emilia and her grandfather tomorrow night, I should at least come prepared. "Janet," I called to my assistant through the intercom. "Clear my afternoon. I have an errand to run." Two hours later, I stood in Rainy Day Books, one of the city's oldest independent bookstores, staring in bewilderment at shelves of children's and young adult titles. The salesperson approached cautiously, eyeing my suit with the wary respect Seattle reserves for corporate types. "Can I help you find something?" "I need books," I said, then internally winced at the obvious statement. "For a nine-year-old girl. Smart, science-oriented, into puzzles and space."

She rolled her eyes, tossing her ponytail as she spotted him through the café’s glass door, his slumped figure trudging toward Lily’s. I yanked my baseball cap lower, adjusting my oversized sunglasses, and spun my chair so my back was to the entrance. The bookshop was cozy, all warm wood tables and shelves stuffed with colorful spines, the air thick with coffee and that musty smell of old books. A couple of customers flipped through novels nearby, and the espresso machine hissed in the background. I grabbed my cappuccino, the foam tickling my lip as I took a quick sip. “Not happening, babe,” I shot back, keeping my voice low.

No one was up yet, classes hadn’t started, and I’m sure everyone was going to take every opportunity to sleep in while they had the chance. The café was called ‘The Grind.’ I snorted at the name. Not only did it represent ground coffee, but also grinding when studying. The coffee scent hit me and I practically melted. I ordered my usual, a dirty chai latte, and nestled into one of the overstuffed chairs. As soon as I opened the book, I was lost in the story. Even though I had read it before, I was still lost. The details, the characters, everything drew me in, and I couldn’t help but melt when the male main character flirted with the female main character.

Anything to change the conversation before she starts rambling on about the bucket list she wants to fulfill with Rowan. “Tales of the Moonlight,” She repeated the book’s title with a bit of dryness in her voice. “It’s a fantasy book.” “You like reading fantasy?” I held my hand out for her to give me the book. “Is it kid-rated though?” She hummed as she handed it over for me to inspect. “Uncle Ro bought it for me.” I closed the book in a flash, making the poor object yowl with a slapping sound. Rowan, again.

Sophia The bookstore café smells like cinnamon buns and strong espresso, the kind of mix that makes you want to linger even if the chairs are uncomfortable. The space hums with a quiet buzz, pages being turned, low conversations, the hiss of milk steaming behind the counter. I arrive first and order a large cappuccino to keep my hands busy, pretending to read the opening chapter of a novel I pulled from the nearest display. My eyes don’t move across the page so much as hover. Every time the door opens, I glance up. Ridiculous. Like a teenager on her first coffee date.

Some information was too dangerous for civilian consumption. Which left me with exactly one option: go straight to the source of this reproductive hijacking. “This conversation requires industrial-strength ice cream,” Constance announced, abandoning her desk chair like it had personally offended her ancestors. “The kind that comes with emotional support and possibly therapy.” We were drowning in peak pumpkin spice season—that magical time when basic white girls everywhere pretended cinnamon could solve existential crises. For most people, this meant lattes and I*******m-worthy fall photos. For Constance, it meant chasing triple-scoop sundaes with hot chocolate so loaded with marshmallows it

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Content warning: This book contains strong language and sensitive content such as sexual harassment, self-harm, and intimate scenes that may not be suitable for young readers. Read at your own risk. La Cuevas #1: When The Star Falls ✓ La Cuevas #2: Hazards of Love