What Do You Want The Notebook Novels & Stories

But as I walked up the quiet staircase toward my bedroom, my heart was beating a little too fast, a dangerous, electric heat settling low in my gut. I wanted those keys. I wanted the black notebook. But most of all, I wanted to see how long Veda could keep up her perfect act before she completely shattered in my hands.

Startled, I quickly shrank back, but it was too late. He strode out, grabbed me by the back of my collar, and hauled me in like a little chick. "Quinn, this notebook is yours?" I was forced to look straight into Nathan's overpowering eyes. "So what if it is?" I shot back, jutting my chin out. "Can't I just doodle whatever I want?" "Doodle?" Nathan shoved the notebook in my face. "Not even a pro coach could come up with these tactics. And a laundry girl drew them?"

And she has just the right amount of curves at the right places. Calvin walked to her bed and sat down, his eyes saw a black thing under her pillow. _what's this?_ he wondered. Then he took off the pillow and under it was a black notebook. He always bought notebooks for her which she uses to write but this one doesn't look like one if it. He took it up and examined it, written at the cover of the book was, "write your deepest darkest desires in here and watch it come to past". Calvin stared in bewilderment at the absurdity of the title.

Something else beneath both. “Then Victor didn’t just want to control the outcome,” she said. “He wanted to shape it.” The rink went quiet again. Different this time. Sharper. Agent Bennett exhaled slowly. “Which means whatever is in that notebook—” “—is more dangerous than the financial records,” Jaxon finished. I closed the notebook gently. Held it against my chest. That felt right. Instinctive. Protective. My mother had written this for me. Not for the FBI.

" Peach held out her palm to get what she needed. "Nope. I'm just gonna give this to you if you will agree to the payment that I want. You know, you need to pay me for finding your precious notebook." Peach's face wrinkled even more. All she knows is she need to get her notebook. My life depends on it.

“It’s your second day looking. You almost toured the campus, you even went to the college campus, you still can’t find what you’re looking for?” That d*mn notebook. It was my second day looking around campus for the notebook that I had accidentally lost. I just got curious about what was written in that notebook. I didn’t expect that I didn’t realize I was going to release it while running. And one more thing, why does that four-eyed strawberry still have such a notebook like that?

Not a word Aspen says makes it to my brain, but hopefully I at least act like it's the most interesting conversation I've ever had in my entire life. Despite my best efforts to ignore that entire half of my apartment, Hudson eventually wanders his way to where I sit on the couch and steps into my direct line of sight. He holds up the small purple notebook with a colored unicorn on the front and the words written in big black ink, "People I want to throat punch." He waves the notebook from side to side guaranteeing I can't pretend to have missed it. My eyes widen but I don't make any other acknowledgment. I'm sure everyone owns a list of people who annoy them. It's totally normal.

Caius appeared next, because apparently this was a scheduled event that everyone knew about except me. He was holding a notebook, the kind with the expensive leather cover and the cream-colored pages that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. "Before you say anything," Caius said, "you might be thinking why do you need a mere notebook? But trust me, it’s intentional.” "Of course it is," I said, but I was smiling as I took it from him.

“He can’t say directly, but he won’t stop you either. It’s up to you, Miss Toth. I’m sorry—this is how I’m programmed.” Her apology sounded almost human. I wanted answers more than anything, but the notebook sat between us like a door I could open or keep closed. I set the pen to paper and began to write—questions, fear, the small, raw memories of Zebasthian—letting the ink hold what my voice could not. While Lyra sat quietly beside me, I read and wrote down what I could from the notes in that old book.

Because I was the only one who knew it was a diary, everyone else knows it as a notebook. Silence greeted me. Even though I know that it was quite difficult to obtain the diaries through underground means, I still have my hope. I was about to give up, when the elderly gentleman, Mr. Eye of Notorary speak. “Are you talking about the Witch of Iceland Archmage?” My eyes almost sparkled, I restrain myself from showing any abnormal behavior and nodded calmly. "Yes, sir." Mr. Eye of Notorary nodded. "I don't have the whole notebook but only five pages of it, I'll sell it to you in 5 Nars."