The Woman Book Novels & Stories

My name was Mandy Smith, and I was a hotel receptionist. At the same time, I was a lonely wife. My husband had not touched me in a long time. I had strong desires, and a long period of abstinence had left me squirming with discomfort. I looked at myself in the mirror. Men usually loved my full chest and beautiful bottom. However, whenever I wanted to seduce my husband with all my tricks, he would only glance at me coldly before turning around and sleeping.

"This bracelet was made for Sofia Bellini to wear at her foundation luncheon last week." He opened another book. "And these earrings? She wore them to a private dinner two nights ago." For a second, I thought he had to be mistaken. Then he closed the book and looked at me with thin contempt. "If you're here to sell copies of Bellini pieces, try somewhere less reputable." I took the sketchbook back and left. The second place was worse. "These are Sofia Bellini's designs," the woman behind the desk said coolly. "They're mine." Her mouth tightened. "Miss Bellini has already placed orders from these sketches. If you're trying to make money off her name, stop before you embarrass yourself."

“For training.” I smiled despite myself. “Tell her thank you.” The maid hesitated. “Actually…” “What?” “She said not to thank her.” I frowned. “Why?” “You’ll understand later.” Strange… very strange. That evening, I wandered into the library again, this time not to read but because I wanted silence. I returned yesterday’s books. The librarian smiled nervously. “I found something else you may enjoy.” He placed a slim volume before me. It wasn’t about kings or bloodlines or prophecies. Its title read; Forgotten Women of the First Kingdom.

⸻ Yet it contained no record of her. ⸻ 🌙 The Keeper The woman walked slowly between the shelves. ⸻ As she moved, books floated around her. ✨📖✨ ⸻ Each book opened briefly. ⸻ Showing fragments of countless lives. ⸻ A child learning to walk. A king losing a kingdom. A mother singing a lullaby. A lonely boy finding friendship. ⸻ Stories. ⸻ Nothing but stories. ⸻ Yet they felt more important than galaxies.

The dew on its leaves shone under the sun's rays bringing the land under the captivity of twinkling like several brittle broken pieces of mirror scattered as she surpassed them. The horse almost rams into a rambler who strolled by the path. The woman waves back to Christine running after the horse. “Maybe it’s a rescue or a resuscitation she needs.” Christine said to herself . as if the hoarse heard the statement it halted, Christine’s eyes on her right shoulder. The woman's visage sympathized with her as she snares the point the horse stood feeling tired. The woman extends her hand of kindness to her. “ My dau… daughter, wrap your t… temple” The woman said vehemently regaining her normal br

I ignored the receptionist who was busy swooning to get my attention, and proceeded to catch up with her. She picked out the books and looked sideways with caution. The Venomous Alien She had a good taste in books or I could say we both loved dark comic books. " That mask gives me the perfect vibe to know it's you" she froze and turned her head; I moved closer to her till there was no distance between us. I knew she recognized me from the way she batted her lashes uncontrollably, the hard breathing and her sneaky fingers fumbling their way around the book she had picked out.

she said with some annoyance. "Cassarina, you'll know the book I'm talking about once you see it. Just open your eyes," the woman said. Cassarina stared at the old woman who had come to be her mentor and teacher in her black robe. She sighed and got back to work. As she checked the middle of the shelf, a certain book struck her observation. It had the title The Kingdom Itself: Snails on it. "That's a strange name for a kids' story," she whispered but bypassed it and continued the search.

And instead of focusing on me, she invited her so-called girlfriend to sit beside her at the dining table. If Dessa had been a man, I would’ve already dealt with her the same way I dealt with every other idiot who tried getting close to Arlene before. But Dessa was a woman—and no matter how irritated she made me, I couldn’t bring myself to handle her the way I handled men. Hurting men was easy. Men understood violence, threats, fear. But women… that was different. I was many things, but I wasn’t the kind of man who raised his hand against a woman just because jealousy was driving me insane. “Dessa, you’re washing the dishes later,” I said irritably.