Tom Lake Book Review Novels & Stories

It was unusual to see Liam anything but confident and the sight only made my suspicions grow. “Look,” Tom started, leaning against the bookshelf like he had all the time in the world. “It’s not exactly—” “I’m not in the mood for games, Tom.” My voice dropped low and laced with warning. “Out with it.” Liam sighed heavily pinching the bridge of his nose as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “There’s a… situation” he began, his voice tight. “A personal one.” “What kind of situation?” My jaw clenched.

Or was it? 'Tell me more about the bookstore,' Tom said after a minute, breaking the heavy silence. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his posture casual, but his gaze flicked to me often, like he was drinking in every detail. 'You light up when you talk about it, like it's your whole world. What's the best part?'

"He must be tearing the world down in search of you. But I don't think any of you toms and no-furs know about the oceans. We are told very specifically not to mention them unless they are part of a deal. I wonder why that is." "Toms dislike water," Cook replied. "And the ocean waters are the worst. It disrupts their power in a way that I can't describe but they find deeply disturbing." The dark no-fur fell silent for a long minute. Lexi was too busy digesting the information about the ocean water to notice until he started talking again. "My Liam is coming for me, I am certain. I just hope he recruited help." Cook's voice was soft and a little bit sad. "He's so handsome and brave, but comple

She ran her eyes from the top of Tom's curly hair down his long, lean body to the tips of his scuffed, black shoes. Was her brother really so attractive? Hailey tried to look beyond her past experience and see Tommy, her brother, as Tom, the stranger sitting next to her. Sure, Tommy was a dork with few friends and fewer social skills. But Tom was tall and - she could see it in a way - handsome. He had deep green eyes and the beginnings of a beard on a wide, square jaw. Tommy was a klutz, but Tom's body seemed lean and almost toned. When had he had time to do that? Or was this just the natural transition of teenager-to-adult kicking in, burning away the baby fat?

I casually looked around, sitting on the corner of the couch and looking down over Las Vegas Boulevard, where I could see the high-rises and the flashing lights, the replica Eiffel Tower and the music fountain. I stared at the city of desire, feeling the cold from the soda bottle pass into my palm. Memories of my childhood blinking like lights. Just when my mother's blurred face was about to appear in my mind, the sound of Tommy's footsteps coming down the stairs brought me back to my senses. “This is your mother's diary.” Tommy handed me a thick leather notebook, an old-fashioned one with a small lock. “It's locked,” Tommy said, “But this lock doesn't have any practical effect. It can be so

"How did you know I was reading about that?" The book he was reading was about a very niche subject and did not specifically mention artificial intelligence. Only someone who was very well-versed in this subject would be able to see the connection. "I know a little about the topic." After a pause, Thomas continued, "I was the one who wrote the book you're reading." Liam's wide eyes were stunned, but the next second, he returned to his usual impassive look and said, "You're very impressive." "So are you." Liam was so young, yet he could actually understand the book.

Tom sat beside her with his eyes closed, his injured arm cradled against his chest. I kept stealing glances at Sage. She was driving, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She did not look at me. It was not that she was too focused on driving to look. It was more like she was choosing not to look. Like she was afraid that if she met my eyes, I would see something she was trying to hide. I turned to Tom. "How are you feeling?" Tom opened his eyes. "Way better than I was when I was infected. My body still hurts, but I feel like myself again." He paused, then added, "I just hope I will not be treated terribly once we get to your territory. I know how your people feel about outsiders."

“With what? Told you we will talk.” “Not that and don’t bullshit me bitch. What’s up with the guy at Trust?” “He is a guy I know from somewhere.” “Doesn’t feel like so. Have you two banged?” “Tomboy got smashed?” Tim grins propping his elbows on the counter. “Just shut up Tim. This is a girl’s talk.” “Frankie shouldn’t be counted as a girl. She is a tomboy. Where is your cap by the way? Must admit you look good this way. You have great hair.”

But there was nothing. I gritted my teeth and turned toward the tall bookcase near the leather sofa. It stretched up toward the ceiling—sleek, minimal, like everything in this damn room. Except I knew this wasn’t just a shelf. Tom didn’t keep anything out in the open unless he wanted you to see it. The important stuff—whatever it was—he hid. I scanned the spines of the books, not even bothering to read the titles. They were too pristine, too untouched. Like props. He was the type to hollow one out and hide a USB drive inside it.

The Reverend’s eyeballs righted into place. Their hearts seemed to flatten with the concussion, stop dead inside their chests for an instant. Air exited lungs. The lights near the red-brick shelters and along the bike path flickered and went out, came on again. Tommy saw an opening and crawled for it, drew himself up and clipped the tomahawk out of Salt’s grasp, hurling it away. He turned in surprise, saw his war ax flip end over end into the blackness as Tommy attached himself to his leg, grappling to pull him down.