Tuesday Book Novels & Stories

Jack POV It happened on a Tuesday. I know it was Tuesday because the kitchen staff always argued on Tuesdays. Something about the weekly supply delivery and who was responsible for signing off on it. The argument was never serious. Just noise. The kind of noise that meant the day was normal. That Tuesday was not normal.

Me? A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading my book! I will be uploading chapters for "Speak To Me" on Tuesdays and Thursdays Hawaii Standard Time. I want to thank you for all your support. I truly appreciate it. Hope everyone is okay, and safe. I also hope you enjoyed the chapter. Dont forget to check out my other book "Me & Mr.CEO." I hope you all will enjoy that one as well. Thank you again for reading and see you at the next chapter!

My second book is up on the app titled “Cielo: Chronicle of untold truths” Please check it out, you'll surely love it. Thank you all, and God bless!

I ask as I close the screen and look at my cat? He meows, and I laugh. I feel too happy to stress about what my future holds. Everything with Tav is going good, and I have zero studying to do now. "I agree. I should focus on celebrating. Why don't we call, Tav? He was supposed to talk to his mom last night about the dragons. I bet he is up," I reply to my cat before standing up and moving to the kitchen. I grab the bottle of champagne from the fridge and smile. I know nothing about alcohol, but I picked up a bottle when it went on sale just for this occasion.

"You don't have a wolf! You don't have aura! You're just a heavy, powerless girl who doesn't belong in Silverpine City! Stop pretending you're equal to us!" Tuesday sneers, holding out her golden folder. "Hand them over, Joxie. Bow your head, take the servant badge, and maybe I'll let you carry my books to the Wolf Biology Wing." I look down at her offered file. Then I look directly into Tuesday’s cold, triumphant eyes. "I don't bow to Gilberts," I say, my voice ringing out clearly across the silent plaza. "And I don't serve wolves." Tuesday’s face contorts with pure rage. "You suicidal little bitch—"

Just incrementally, in a library, on a Tuesday, with a strange old man and a stack of books and a wolf inside me paying careful attention. It was enough.

An act of anxiousness he couldn't get rid of. All those things happened the day Kauthar came to their home and told him so many hurtful words he couldn't remove from his head. He sought out Bushra to help him and she did give him so many books to which he could only read two of them not having time for all the rest. While he was reading, a sex scene came up making his face heat up at the thought of his baby sister reading such things then remembered that she was married once and most probably experienced all those. It didn't stop him from feeling awkward about the fact that his baby sister read those kind of books. Who knows whether she read them before she got married? The books look pretty

Chris POV I found out on a Tuesday. Not that the day mattered. Days had stopped mattering in the way they used to matter — as markers, as deadlines, as the framework around which operations were planned and executed. In the east wing suite days were simply the unit of measurement between one of Matt's evenings and the next. Tuesday was the same as Thursday was the same as Sunday, distinguished only by the quality of the light and which book I was on. I was on the fifth book when the housekeeper came in with the breakfast tray and the small remote control she sometimes left when Matt had — I assumed — indicated it was permitted. She set the tray on the table and the remote beside it and left

So as it stands, update days will be Tuesday, Thursday and Saturdays/ Sundays, if I can do more then I will, but until the end of May this is how it will be unless I can get the other book finished earlier. Once again, thank you so much for reading, I do really appreciate each and every reader Taylor West

This is Tuesday. Every Tuesday. The Tuesdays of the contract and the F train and the bistro stool and the Malbec and the first hand-holding in the January cold and the apology and the key and the proposal and the wedding and everything after. The Tuesday that was always the day they came back to, that was always the container for the thing that was real. The Tuesday that had been the day of the contract signing, the day of the first dinner at the bistro, the day of the key, the day of the proposal, the day of the wedding. The Tuesday that had become, without either of them planning it, their day—the day when things happened, the day when decisions were made, the day when life turned in new d