Uncle Remus Books Novels & Stories

I crawled out from beneath the table, placed the pawn in the same position it’d been in before I knocked it over, and pocketed both the paper clip and my gloves, which were sleek enough that they didn’t create a visible bulge in my pants. I plucked The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas—one of my favorite books—off the shelf on my way to the door. “Alex,” my uncle said when he saw me in the hall. He chuckled. “Dumas again? You can’t get enough of that book.” I smiled. “No, I can’t.” All the while, my blood raged.

As we stepped in, he gave a small nod to the first store’s attendant we met before hurrying off to a quiet section of the store. While Uncle Al ran his long hands along the books on the shelf, soft hurried footsteps caught my attention. A girl of about five years old with pigtails peered at a man who had a book propped on his face. As soon as my uncle stopped pacing, the quiet air of the room felt different. I felt like I won and lost a trophy at the same time as wailing laughter reached my ears. “Do you feel that?” “That,” Uncle Al tapped on a seemingly ordinary leather book about cooking and grinned, “is our ticket. Place your hand on the book.”

“Who are you to lecture me, sir? You heard me. I told you that I’m sorry.” “Who am I?” He repeated and smirked at me. Yes, who the fuck are you? I saw him in the villa. Needless to say, he and David knew each other. Or maybe… he and that woman? I don’t know. “I’m Gavin Palma–David’s uncle.” My jaw left on the floor.

"Who are you?" "I'm Matthew, your uncle, Nyla." He introduced himself. I frowned, trying to remember a familiar name. "Uncle Matthew," I said softly, calling his name. That day was my second meeting with him after 12 years of not seeing each other. He was my father's half-brother. Seventeen years ago, my grandfather remarried a woman with a son. And that son was Uncle Matthew. That's what I remember from my father's story, but I don't remember the relationship between these two brothers because we rarely met.

Joe replied, getting busy with his tablet. "Starting tomorrow morning, okay, Uncle?" "Yes." "KIMMY?" "KIMMY!"

“Liam. You’re here. For a moment, I thought you might brush me off, like you always brush off anything tied to our father’s wealth.” Liam took his seat opposite him, his movements calm and deliberate. When he finally looked up, his eyes glinted with amusement. “Our father’s wealth? Don’t forget, Adams—we don’t share the same father. You’re not my brother in the way you like to claim. You’re my nephew. Your father was my elder brother.”

he instructed. "Wyatt bear, come and feed me handsome," Remy called in the kitchen. "Rem, feed yourself!" he semi shouted but I could tell he was laughing. As I found the library and walked in, I gasped in amazement of the size of the room. It was large. I imagined it would take a while so I proceeded to look for every book I could find on witches, werewolves and tribrids. It took hours and I just hoped it was worth it.

“I miss feeling strong.” I swallowed hard. “I miss running with you.” She leaned her head back against the chair. “Some days I think she’s still in there. Like a whisper I can’t quite hear.” I wanted to promise I’d help her find her wolf again. Wanted to swear I’d spend the rest of my life making it right. But promises felt cheap after everything. So I just sat there with her, shoulder to shoulder, watching the moon climb higher. **** My Uncle’s office smelled like old leather and cigar smoke, same as always. He sat behind the massive oak desk, gray hair perfect, eyes sharp as ever.

And that’s true because, Remus is having none of that, he grips my chin harshly, not liking that I want to change the topic. Remus is Rome’s soul, but he’s always been the most untamed of the two. They are like two different people in one, even though it probably shouldn’t be so. Remus is the uncut version of Rome; he is intense and a whole new vibe that you don’t want to mess with or get untangled with.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only Lila and I could hear, her words dripping with a cold, calculated cruelty. "Let’s be honest about why our terrifying uncle took you in. Rowan is a monster, Veda. He’s the Butcher. No high-born omega in the West District would ever willingly tie her soul to a man with that much blood on his hands. He’s cold, he’s sadistic, and the Council only tolerates him because he does the dirty work Julian is too noble to touch. He didn't choose you because you're special. He chose you because you were the only piece of garbage desperate enough to take his name without screaming."