Your Favorite Heinlein Novel Novels & Stories

She put her glasses on her nose and continued to look at the page. "Are you reading Heinlein?" I looked at the title of her book. "A stranger in a strange land". A lump rose in my throat as I read the title. This had been one of Dad's favorite books. Allora nodded. “Rereading, actually. I love all of the Heinlein stories. She blushed even deeper, as if she'd revealed some deep personal secret. "Me too," I said. The electricity between us surged, pulling me toward her like two opposing charges. — I love the way Heinlen uses Smith's character to force the reader to see his own prejudices.

Instead, she spotted a battered cardboard box, which she pulled out by one of its flaps. The box was filled with books similar to the one she found on the floor—tattered and yellowing, adorned with somewhat cheesy cover art. Except for a few classics by authors like Verne and Wells, most of them fell into the sci-fi genre. Cole admitted to losing interest in this type of literature after a few pages of convoluted descriptions. However, she recognized some of the titles because she had been repeatedly told that she should read them: Asimov, Russ, Vonarburg, Bradbury, Heinlein, Bujold, Engh, Le Guin.

she turned away from me again, running her fingers down the spines of a few water-warped novels. You. "The one behind my desk," I answered. "It's my favorite." Evelyn looked over my desk at the worn down novel, the years and years of use made it delicate. She stroked a gentle finger over the cover. "It looks well-loved." "Do you have a favorite book, Evelyn?" I asked, leaning back at the table, our dirty dishes stacked neatly, ready for a cabin boy to take them away in the morning. She glanced at me from over her shoulder, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. A devious smirk that screamed indignance. "I do. It's called, 'The Art of Profanity'."

“And a book? I have tons of books in the study room, but which one will you get?” “Yes,” I smiled again. “The Art of War.” He smirked at me, closing his eyes as he whispered the title. “The Art of War…” He opened his eyes. “Did you know that it’s my favorite book? Why don’t I just buy you a new one?” I shook my head. “I preferred that one because of your own notes, Mr. Mars,” I remembered how he carefully underlined the words and wrote some notes on the white spaces of the book.

That had been true about her from the first time I set my eyes on her. “There's a question I have been meaning to ask you.” She wiped her mouth with the napkin, her brow raised. “Sure, you can ask it.” “Is (Naughty Nathan) your favorite book?” Shifting so one leg was bent under the other, she faced me, her elbow on the console, chin on her fist, settling in to talk about the book. “Goddess Hedone is my favorite writer, the book is up there too.” “So you named your son after the main character?”

Then he said,” Do you have any favourites? “Yes. Of course, I do. Amongst the older authors Frederick Forsyth is my all time faves and amongst the new upcoming authors Jared Alvin is my favourite,” I replied. “Ah! Jared Alvin…I have heard about him…do you have any books of him which you like?” he asked.

You could easily tell by the beautiful cover. “You’re back early” He says closing it. “I had no idea you read these types of books” I sat beside him and took it up. “I’m full of surprises” He says, taking it from me. “This is one of my favorite books. The story is just perfect!” “I know right! Suzanne Collins is so dope!” “I agree,” he replied, chuckling. “For once we agree on something”