#Harlow James Author | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loserboyrobinwrites · 3 months

Text

Chapter One: Wild Child

welcome welcome welcome this is the first draft of the first chapter of my novel!! it has NOT been edited. There WILL be mistakes. Apologies for the formatting, it's a little different on here than it is in word. Uhhh tw for the f slur!

This chapter is approximately 3k words! Enjoy!

Atticus

The first things I knew were wild. Wild grass under my feet, rivers gushing though the wild forests, the animals scurrying and hiding about my bare feet.

The moss cushioned me as I fell while learning to walk.

I knew it then and I know it now that the wild had something to say and something to teach. My childhood home was in the middle of the woods, nestled against a river that tended to flood during the spring.

My mum’s name was Lyllian and my mama’s name was Jude. But I never called them that.

Our home felt soft and kind, with warm lights and fireplaces and hot cups of cocoa during the winter. I remember I’d climb over the ends of the staircase railings and on the back of the couch despite my warnings not to.

Mama always scolded me and told me I’d have to go to bed early if I kept climbing. I would just pout and poke my tongue out at her.

Mum told me stories about frogs in the rain and raised me on apple pies and smiles. She was soft but her hands were calloused from all the wood-chopping she did. She never let me touch the axe, much to my dismay. Mama would smile from where she would be cracking pepper over dinner.

Because we were so close to the wild, it was woven into my veins just as securely as the love I was raised on, and I took my first steps on moss near the river.

We spent a lot of time outside. We even walked to the school I spent my days at when I was old enough. And I would always insist on walking barefoot, even when I was old enough to put my shoes on by myself.

Mama smiled at it, but Mum would always sigh and give me a pointed glance. She made me put on my shoes before I went inside the school building.

I was a nightmare as a student. I would always be itching to run, and I’d take off my shoes at every chance I got. I would mimic the wolves I heard howling in the woods, and I would squawk back at the birds outside. I couldn’t sit still in class, and I scribbled on my worksheets.

My handwriting was horrifically bad, barely even legible. There were many parent-teacher meetings and extracurricular lessons so that I wouldn’t fall behind. Mum always made sure to sit next to me at the kitchen table and help me with my letters and words, and I remember she smelled of fireplace smoke and incense.

Mama would always ask me if I’d done my homework and every time I would say yes even if I hadn’t. And she’d hug me and her work shirt would smell of grease and metal but on weekends she’d smell of pine needles and the woodshed.

~-~

Once, there was a movie that I watched, but I don’t remember anything about it except the portrait of a snarling, seething wolf. When I was seven or eight, a boy named Harlow approached me at lunchtime and said, in a rather rude tone, “Michael says you have faggots for parents.”

Now I didn’t know what that word meant, so I asked him, my feet digging into the soil.

“It means they’re...” he leaned in to whisper to me. “They’re gay.”

I looked at him quizzically, still not sure what he meant.

Harlow huffed. “You have two mums,” he said pointedly.

I took a bite of my sandwich and nodded.

Harlow’s eyes widened. “Really? It’s true?”

I frowned and nodded. I swallowed my mouthful of sandwich. “Is that bad?”

Harlow stared at me in shock. “Of-Of course it’s bad! How will you grow big and strong without a dad?”

At this, the image of the snarling wolf appeared in my mind and rage rushed through me. I’m not sure why. I hardened my gaze and Harlow seemed to stumble a bit.

And then I tackled him to the floor with a guttural growl. He screeched and all at once that rage disappeared, and I stood up, backed off and turned away, fleeing into the trees.

I didn’t look back.

~-~

Mama sighed as I sat on my hands and swung my legs back and forth. The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, and the air conditioning had been turned full. It was one of those units that swung the blast of freezing air back and forth, so every twenty or so seconds I would be hit with a chill. Across the desk in front of me was Mrs. Hillywinkle, her wrinkled face scrutinizing the documents in front of her. Her computer whirred so loudly I thought it might take flight.

Mama had come from the shop early to come to this meeting. Usually Mum would do it, but she had been held up on something she called “investigative precautions”. So there I sat, in the very uncomfortable wooden chair of the principal’s office, nervously swinging my legs. Every so often the air conditioning unit would brush the papers of artwork on the wall with a rustling sound. The wind outside howled up a ruckus, and I resisted the urge to howl back. Mama fiddled with the edge of her shirt that smelled of grease and metal. It was how I knew it was a Wednesday. Mama sighed and I pretended not to notice the pointed glare she shot at me.

Mrs. Hillywinkle seemed to have forgotten we were there. Mama cleared her throat, and Mrs. Hillywinkle peered up over her half-moon glasses. She put down the paper she seemed to think was so important and sighed. “Ms. James-Harriet.”

“It’s Mrs. James-Harriet, actually,” Mama said, frowning. Mrs. Hillywinkle paused for a moment and narrowed her eyes at Mama. “Mrs. James-Harriet.” Mama nodded. Mrs. Hillywinkle paused again. Then, “I’m sure you know why you’re here.” Mama shook her head. “I don’t.” Mrs. Hillywinkle hesitated to give me a glance. “Your... Atticus here assaulted another student.”

Mama seemed to stop in surprise. She turned to look at me and for once I saw the brewing wild in her dark eyes. The moment quickly passed, and she turned back to Mrs. Hillywinkle. “He wouldn’t.” Her hands turned to fists around her trousers. Mrs. Hillywinkle raised an eyebrow. “Well, he did. Tackled another student to the ground.” Mama inhaled. “And what provoked this?” “Nothing, the student says he was minding his own business and Atticus came out of nowhere and tackled him onto the ground—” “That’s not true!” I snapped, rather out of the blue.

“Atticus,” Mama hissed. I shook her off. “I was the one minding my business,” I corrected. “He came up to me and told me that I couldn’t grow big and strong because... because I don’t have a dad.”

Mama took a sharp breath. Mrs. Hillywinkle raised an eyebrow. “And you tackled him to the ground?”

I nodded. “He deserved it.”

Mama sighed. “I’m so sorry, he’s not normally like this—”

Mrs. Hillywinkle held up a hand. “I’m sure. But we’re worried about his home life. Is there any reason you can think of that would cause him to react with violence?” Mama was taken aback. I stiffened. Mama sighed. “No. We’ve never hit him or each other.” Mrs. Hillywinkle scribbled something down. I continued to swing my legs. ~-~

I gripped mama’s hand tight as we began walking down the long dirt road to home. She didn’t speak. I wished she did. She was like that sometimes, when she was angry with me. She’d get all quiet and I wouldn’t speak either because if I did I was sure it wouldn’t end well. I sighed. She squeezed my hand. “I’m not angry at you.” I nodded. “I’m just frustrated. With that boy. And the world. Me and your mother have tried so hard to shield you from those who speak bad about us, but...” she trailed off with a sigh. I nodded. Her eyes seemed to glisten but not with tears, with something I couldn’t quite place. Her steps on the gravel seemed to be profound and strong. Her braids rocked with every step she took. I squeezed her hand. She looked down at me and smiled.

I tried to smile back.

And that image of the snarling wolf appeared in front of my eyes again and I inhaled and stopped walking and my hand slipped from mama’s and I couldn’t shake the picture from my mind. Mama turned and furrowed her eyebrows at me as I seethed, hands balled into fists. It was like every part of me was alive, like every part I had ever pushed down had just somehow surfaced and was screaming rabid desires and I wanted to listen, but I didn’t know what they were saying, I just knew that they were loud and scary and feral and wild.

I wanted to listen to their screeching wild wants and needs but I couldn’t, I didn’t have the legs or the teeth or the speed or the nose or the right ears that I would need if I wanted to listen and obey and so I just stood there, on the dirt road with my mama in front of me, asking what was wrong. And I wanted to growl and howl and screech at her just like those wild things were begging me to.

I met her gaze and she took a breath, like... like she was afraid of me and some part of me seemed to jump at the thought, seemed to gleefully cry out at the notion that I was scary that I was powerful that I was wild.

I seethed there on the dirt road, wanting to howl because those wild things begged me to, and those wild things were deep within the ground and the trees and they were in the air and I was them I was them and they were me.

“Atticus.” The voice cut through like a knife and all at once everything stopped and I took a breath and I could see my mama again and she looked so worried.

I tried to breathe, I took long deep breaths as my mama’s hand was on my chest and she whispered to me softly about how it was okay and that I was going to be okay and whatever it was that was bothering me was gone now and I didn’t have to be afraid.

I breathed, long and low. The wild things stopped their screeching and the wild things weren’t in the trees and the wild things weren’t chasing me.

I was grounded and my mama was there with me. “Atticus, are you okay?” Mama asked after a moment of just the wind in the leaves and my breathing. I nodded.

And so, we carried on. To home. My feet were wobbling and my legs were shaking but I felt more alive than I ever had been. Whole.

That’s what I felt. And Mrs. Hillywinkle couldn’t do anything about it because my mum would call her a word I wasn’t allowed to say. I followed mama into the living room where the fireplace sat when we got home. She sat me down in the big armchair that was very squishy and kneeled in front of me. She said, “Atticus, did that boy who you tackled say anything?” I nodded. “Lots of things. He called you and mum a word that I don’t think he knew the meaning of.” Mama tilted her head, braids rocking again. “And was that word?” I hesitated. “I don’t know what it means either.” Mama shifted closer. “I promise you right now, Ti-Ti, that if you repeat what he said I won’t be angry at you.” There was silence. Even the trees seemed to be holding their breath. I stared at them through the large windows. “Ti-Ti?” Mama asked.

I looked back at her. I hesitated. She blinked at me. I said, “he... he told me that I had faggots for parents.” Mama’s eyes flashed. She hardened her gaze and muttered something under her breath. “What does it mean?” I asked. Mama sighed and looked at the floor. “It means someone who loves people who are the same gender as them. Like me, I’m a woman who loves another woman.” I nodded. “I love you. And I love Oakley. What does that make me?” Oakley was my best friend for ever and ever. We played together at school all the time and sometimes he would even howl at the trees with me.

Mama chuckled. “No, I don’t think it’s like that, Ti-Ti. The way that I love your mum is different to the way I love you. And I’m not sure you’ll experience that kind of love for a while yet.” I nodded. “But what’s so bad about that word that Harlow said?” Mama sighed. “It’s a word used to insult people like me. It shouldn’t be said by anybody, so I don’t want to hear you repeating it.” I nodded again. “Okay.”

She turned back to me. “If he says it again, just tell me, alright? And I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.” “Okay,” I said again.

Her braids shifted again as she leaned back. “Ti-Ti,” she started. “Back on the road.” There was silence as she tried to formulate her words. “What happened?” I wished the silence would come back. I didn’t want to tell her about the wild things in my head who screamed at me. I really, really didn’t. It felt... wrong, somehow. Like if someone knew about the screeching, they would hate me. Or throw me out, or make me scared of them. Or maybe the wild things wouldn’t come back, or they’d be there for every second. And both of those possibilities scared me.

I didn’t like being scared. I stared at her, my mouth open like I was going to say something, but the words died on my tongue.

Mama leaned forward, eyes open and ready to listen. “It’s okay, whatever it was. You can tell me.” I huffed. “I don’t know,” I lied.

Mama raised her eyebrow. “You’re lying.” “I am not!” I said indignantly. Mama laughed. “Yes, you are,” she teased, leaning forward. “You’re lying and I know you are because you chewed on your lip before you answered.” She extended her hands to me and began to tickle my sides. “You’re lying, Ti-Ti,” she said as I burst out with laughter. She leaned to blow a raspberry on my forehead as I squirmed away from her tickles. And I think she forgot about the time on the road, and I think I did too. I think the wild creatures in my head were gone and they didn’t dare come back and ruin my mama’s love.

~-~

Mum got home late that night, and she looked like a mess. Like she’d “been dragged through a bush by her ankles,” as Mama put it when she took mum by her hand and kissed her cheek.

I rushed up to her to show her the drawing I’d done of a wolf howling at the moon. Mum took it from me and admired it for a moment. A long moment. I waited, brimming with anticipation. She looked to me over the paper with wide eyes. “You drew this?” I nodded enthusiastically. Mum gasped. “Why, I never thought I’d be in the presence of such an artist!” She exclaimed. “Come look at this, don’t you think the linework is just astounding?” she asked Mama. Mama smiled. “Very. We ought to hang it up.”

Mum nodded, proud. “Immediately!” And so she did just that. It was the centerpiece of the fridge.

I stared at it for a long while. It seemed so grand. Like the most important place a thing could be was in the middle of the fridge. We lit the fireplace and drew the curtains, and I had a cup of hot chocolate while Mama placed another log on the fire and mum laughed when mama accidentally dropped the wood onto the floor with a thud. I smiled and turned to glance at the fridge again. My drawing of the wolf. And then Mum sat next to me and pulled me to her side and I was greeted with the comfortable smell of fireplace smoke and incense. Mama made a remark about stealing all the cuddles and joined mum on the other side of me and suddenly it smelled of pine needles and the woodshed and I was very safe and that’s what it smelled of, it smelled of safety.

I was safe with them and they would protect me and I would protect them and my drawings would be hung in the centre of the fridge and I would have cups of hot chocolate even when I was supposed to be asleep. And when I did fall asleep in my parents’ arms, I would always wake up in my bed the next morning without fail. ~-~

I have vague memories of being carried to my room and the soft voice of Mama telling me goodnight, but that’s all. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. I remember my dreams, though. I’ve always remembered my dreams, and I’m not sure why. I remember almost every dream I’ve ever had. Most of them are nonsense, as dreams often are. But this one... this one was different. It was filled with screeching and howling and wolves snarling in my face and then I was the wolf snarling in my face. I was the scary, not the scared, and I liked it. I was angry and loud and hunting and screaming and I was obeying the wild things in my mind that told me to hunt and howl. The wild things in my mind didn’t sleep, and some things never do, and I don’t think I could either.

I was wild and I was hunting and I was the wolf snarling in my face and I was the screeching things in my mind and I was howling not just at the trees but I was howling at everything that was and that has been. I woke up screaming that there were wild things in my head trying to hunt me.

9 notes · View notes

nordleuchten · 8 months

Text

@nicobutnot wrote:

Do you know any accurate books about laurens, Lafayette or hamilton?

I am sorry that it took me so long to answer your question, but I thought that it might be more appropriate to turn this answer into a proper post, because that way I can elaborate a bit more and other people, who might have the same question, might see this as well.

I am no expert when it comes to good books about Laurens and Hamilton – so whoever knows more, please feel free to add to this post. With regards to La Fayette, the answer depends a bit on what you are looking for.

General Books:

Hero of two Worlds by Mike Duncan and Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger are good and comprehensive overviews about La Fayette’s life from cradle to grave. Unger has a few more information and Duncan gives better sources and is more neutral, if you were to ask me, but both books are good starting points.

Then there also the books written by Louis Gottschalk – he was and likely still is *the* authority on La Fayette. He published a multi-volume work detailing his life as well as numerous papers and books about smaller, more specific aspects. He was also one of the driving forces behind the publication of La Fayette’s letters and papers.

Books that still give a general overview but also bring a new perspective/focus on a specific topic:

In this very roundabout named category, I can recommend For Liberty and Glory by James R. Gaines (one of my personal favourites), a book about La Fayette’s and Washington’s relationship, and their different approaches to Revolution. I can also recommend The Marquis – Lafayette Reconsidered by Laura Auricchio for a fresh and new perspective.

Niche books:

In Lafayette in Two Worlds by Lloyd S. Kramer we have a wonderful contextualization of La Fayette role in politics, especially during the time of the French Revolution, his self-presentation, and a careful analysis of the image he crafted for himself.

Lafayette: Prisoner of State by Paul S. Spalding takes an in-depth look into La Fayette’s time imprisoned by Prussia and Austria during the French Revolution.

General Layette in Wittmoldt by Alfons Galotte has never been translated into English as far as I know but if you can read German; it is a wonderful reflection on La Fayette’s time in exile in Danish-Holstein. The book does not only sheds light on the La Fayette family but also on the people around them, the political and social world their were moving in and how people perceived them.

I hope I could help with that aspect and happy reading! :-)

#nicobutnot #marquis de lafayette #la fayette #french history #american history #american revolution #french revolution #history #books #resources

29 notes · View notes

ghoullnextdoor · 1 year

Text

17 Questions | 17 tags

Tagged by the lovely @moonlitxngel

Nickname: I don't have one lol

Sign: Pisces

Height: 5'5"

Last thing I googled: directions to El Charo. Went for Mexican food with the ladies

Song stuck in my head: I wanna see some ass by Jack Harlow

Number of followers: 21,008

Amount of sleep: I usually get 7 to 8 hrs unless my insomnia is acting up

Lucky number: 1111, how cliché

Dream job: Medical examiner, specifically for crime scene investigations

Currently wearing: Black crop top and grey sweats

Movies and books that summarize me: Book would be I Love You To The Moon and Back, movies would be anything horror related,, but Family Guy sums up my sense of fucked up humor. Yes I know its not a movie but whatever lol

Favorite song: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

Favorite Author: I cant pick just one, sorry not sorry. V.E. Schwab, Tessa Sharpe, Stephanie Meyer, R. L. Stine, Emily Duncan.

Favorite instrument: Violin

Aesthetic: Spooky. Dark. Creepy. And add a few sunflowers lmao

Animal noise: my cats purring

Random: I moved 1500 miles away from home for love, and we are still going strong after 8 years 🖤💪🏻

Tagging @thegreatdestroyermrselfdestruct @st-lawrence @dabakin-cloudblower @protozubon @shoobadawoop @stardust-escapade @james-bong-im-ona-mission @dinedwithwolves @disrespekful @smokemygames @og-lucifers-lettuce @intheirhonor @starrybong @mindmythorns @please-getout @glittangrease @thetimidtiefling

#this was fun #thanks for tagging me

19 notes · View notes

books-in-a-storm · 6 months

Text

Book Of The Week

Title: Dublin Falls' Archangel's Warriors MC #1 Terror's Temptress

Author: Ciara St. James

Pages: 287

Synopsis:

Terror: His name and person strike fear into the hearts of men. He’s the ultra-alpha leader of the Dublin Falls Archangel’s Warriors MC. He’s living the ultimate biker’s dream. He’s content until he sees her. All it took was one look, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have her. Even go up against her father. Or go to war with his club’s enemies and her secret one.

Harlow: She’s the daughter of his charter chapter’s President, a club princess. She’s forbidden fruit. She’s sexy, deadly, tough, and beautiful. She’s not looking for a man, especially a biker. She knows what they’re like, hit it and quit it artists. She’s not about to become a conquest, not even for the one man who makes her feel things she’s never felt.

But forces are out to tear them apart, permanently. Will Terror lose Harlow? Or will they together defeat their enemies and inner fears in order for her to become Terror’s Temptress?

#booklr #bookblr #adult booklr #ciara st james #terror's temptress #bookworm #recommendations #book of the week #book of week #book week #contemporary romance #november 2023

2 notes · View notes

finalgirlfall · 2 years

Text

This it is that makes my pride mount above my resentment. By this engine whose springs I am continually oiling, I play them all off. The busy old tarpaulin uncle I make but my ambassador to Queen Annabella Howe, to engage her (for example sake to her princessly daughter) to join in their cause, and to assert an authority they are resolved, right or wrong (or I could do nothing), to maintain. And what my motive, dost thou ask? No less than this, that my beloved shall find no protection out of my family; for, if I know hers, fly she must, or have the man she hates. This, therefore, if I take my measures right, and my familiar fail me not, will secure her mine, in spite of them all; in spite of her own inflexible heart; mine, without condition; without reformation processes; without the necessity of a siege of years, perhaps; and to be even then, after wearing the guise of a merit-doubting hypocrisy, at an uncertainty, upon a probation unapproved of—Then shall I have all the rascals, and rascalesses of the family come creeping to me; I prescribing to them; and bringing that sordidly-imperious brother to kneel at the foot-stool of my throne. (L31, lovelace to belford)

cut for analysis that maybe is not supported by the text...i don't know

if i'm reading this excerpt correctly, then lovelace's primary reason for wanting to [steal / harm] clarissa is to get revenge on her brother, james harlowe jr.—at least according to where i am in the text, and i'm not very far into it. if that is his ultimate reason for harming her, then this whole setup (lovelace and belford objectifying clarissa, turning harlowe jr. against her, etc.) could, perhaps, be argued as an example of male homosociality, which i am thinking about because of one of the classes i'm taking this semester.

but then i suppose that raises the question: why is harlowe jr. so eager to turn on clarissa? does the text say? / will the text ever say?

#*#literature #samuel richardson #clarissa #college

7 notes · View notes

brookstonalmanac · 1 year

Text

Birthdays 3.3

Beer Birthdays

Jay R. Brooks (1959)

James Ottolini (1969)

Jeff Cioletti (1972)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Julie Bowen; actor (1970)

James Doohan; actor (1920)

Jean Harlow; actor (1911)

Miranda Richardson; actor (1958)

Ronald Searle; illustrator (1920)

Famous Birthdays

Diana Barrymore; actress (1921)

Alexander Graham Bell; inventor (1847)

Edna Best; British stage and film actress (1900)

Jessica Biel; actor (1982)

William James Blacklock; English-Scottish painter (1816)

Margaret Bonds; pianist and composer (1913)

Larry Burkett; author and radio host (1939)

Cyril Burt; English psychologist and geneticist (1883)

Georg Cantor; Russian-German mathematician and philosopher (1845)

Emile-Auguste Chartier; French writer and philosopher (1868)

Paul Clayton; folk singer (1931)

Brian Cox; English keyboard player and physicist (1968)

Ruby Dandridge; African-American film and radio actress (1902)

Gustave de Molinari; Dutch-Belgian economist and theorist (1819)

Bonnie J. Dunbar; engineer and astronaut (1949)

Perry Ellis; fashion designer (1940)

David Faustino; actor (1974)

Tyler Florence; chef and author (1971)

Ragnar Frisch; Norwegian economist (1895)

Ira Glass; radio host (1959)

William Godwin; English writer (1756)

Laura Harring; Mexican-American model and actress (1964)

Robyn Hitchcock; pop singer (1953)

Thom Hoffman; Dutch actor and photographer (1957)

Asger Jorn; Danish painter and sculptor (1914)

Jackie Joyner-Kersee; track athlete (1962)

Tim Kazurinsky; actor, comedian (1950)

Ronan Keating; Irish singer-songwriter and actor (1977)

Arthur Kornberg; biochemist (1918)

Artur Lundkvist; Swedish poet (1906)

James Merrill; poet and playwright (1926)

George Miller; Australian film director (1945)

Sameera Moussa; Egyptian physicist (1917)

John Murray; Canadian scientist (1841)

Thomas Otway; English writer (1652)

Mike Pender; English singer-songwriter and guitarist (1941)

Charles Ponzi; Italian criminal, "Ponzi scheme" (1882)

George Pullman; train car inventor (1831)

Anri Sakaguchi; Japanese actress (1991)

Clifton Snider; author and poet (1947)

Harold J. Stone; actor (1913)

Tone-Loc; rapper (1966)

Buddy Valastro; chef and tv host (1977)

Herschel Walker; football RB (1962)

Edmund Waller; English poet, writer (1606)

Michael Walzer; philosopher (1935)

Jennifer Warnes; singer-songwriter (1947)

Doc Watson; bluegrass singer-songwriter and musician (1923)

Snowy White; English guitarist (1948)

Darnell Williams; English-American actor (1955)

Hattie Winston; actress (1945)

Beatrice Wood; illustrator and potter (1893)

Victoria Zdrok; model (1973)

Ona Zee; porn actor (1954)

#Birthdays

2 notes · View notes

emometalhead · 1 year

Text

Thanks for the tag, Harlow!! @only-a-heartbeat-away

Nickname: Ash

Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5’6"/167cm

Last thing I googled: "how old is James Marsden" (For context, I'm watching Dead To Me, and was curious about the ages of the main cast.)

Song stuck in my head: Possum Kingdom by Toadies

Number of followers: I love that Tumblr hides follower counts!!

Amount of sleep: Last night I surprisingly got 8 hours. Typically I get 5-7 hours.

Dream job: Currently striving towards being an editor. Ideally, I'd be a novelist. In an absolute dream world, I wouldn't work.

Wearing: A fitted gray long sleeve shirt, a gray and black patterned maxi skirt, a Captain America varsity sweater, and red socks with green tips that say "a very merry Christmas".

Books that summarize you: Idk about ones that summarize me, but here's some ones thet I really relate to.

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, Every Last Word by Tamara Ireland Stone, Turtles All The Way Down

Favorite song: I couldn't possibly choose just one.

Favorite instrument: Cello, guitar, piano

Aesthetic: It's in the url lol

Favorite author: John Green my beloved 🖤

Random fun fact: I leave marks on cups when I drink out of them, because my lips are constantly covered in Chapstick. However, I always drink through a straw while wearing lipstick, because those stains are much more difficult to remove.

Tagging anyone!!

#tag games

2 notes · View notes

spoilertv · 1 month

Text

#SpoilerTV

0 notes

innerdreamercollective · 1 month

Text

Noelle and Grant

Another great job for the narrators. Noelle is a single mom who works with authors meets Tall handsome Ethan who is a pilot when waiting for coffee Noelle leaks through her nursing pads and Ethan literally gives her his shirt off his back. Their is a connection but Ethan chickens out, but kismet is in play when Noelle is on Ethan's flight. Love the epidural part of the story reminded me of a similar situation my sister went through with her third child. Love when Noelle discovers they know someone in common and Ethan learns something about someone he knew his whole life. Another great story that flows beautifully and entertaining that I enjoyed listening in one sitting.

0 notes

dilawrosas · 6 months

Text

[BOOK REVIEW] ARC: Everything But You by Harlow James

This Harlow James book is AVAILABLE NOW! ✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️ The last book in the NEWBERRY SPRINGS series features a pair of high school sweethearts having their second chance after years apart living their own individual lives. The hero goes to Las Vegas and meets up with the heroine, having a chat with her and realizing that the feelings for her are still there. However, the heroine’s fiancé appears,…

View On WordPress

#2023 Book Reviews #2023 Reviews #ARC #Bk Rvw #December 2023 #Harlow James Author #Series: NEWBERRY SPRINGS

0 notes

loserboyrobinwrites · 2 months

Text

Chapter Three: Utter Bullshit

welcome welcome welcome this is the first draft of the third chapter of my novel!! it has NOT been edited. There WILL be mistakes. Apologies for the formatting, it's a little different on here than it is in word.

This chapter is approximately 4k words! Enjoy!

Atticus

After that day with the stag the wild things in my head became a part of my every day. I began to learn and grow with them, instead of resenting them for what they were. I didn’t make the world hold its breath and there were no more chilling sounds from deer.

No birds, either.

The wild things became a constant. Not an evil thing or an angry thing, just a thing that was and will be. I still walked to school barefoot. Oakley got a girlfriend. Her name was Summer. She was from the coast. Sandy hair, big smile, looked good in blues and whites. She was nice enough. But I didn’t think she understood me. Or my... connection? I guess I could put it that way. As for me, I knew early on that girls weren’t my thing. I hadn’t really paid much attention to boys, either, though maybe I should have.

After I told Mama about the pigeon, she took me into the forest and made me lay my hands on everything that I was drawn to. That way I was as wild as the things I knew. I was always covered in dirt and soil and the wild things were happy. At least I thought they were.

I think I spent more time in the forest than anywhere else. Or, at least, within the reach of my house’s Wi-Fi. Because I still had assignments to do. I liked being outside. I was so... intrinsically connected to the undergrowth and the trees and the chirping birds and the rustling leaves. I was wild, I think. With wild things in my head. Mum always looked at me differently after I told her about the wild things, but not in a bad way.

Mama never changed the way she looked at me. Even when I told her I was scared the wild things were going to take control.

I think she’s the reason they didn’t. She taught me to breathe and she taught me how to place my hand on my chest, just beneath my heart and feel their thrumming energy and to use it, rather than run from it. The wild things never hurt me and I never hurt anyone. Because it was bad manners.

But there was no point at which the wild things were completely silent.

Until him. There wasn’t even anything special about him. Suddenly I was seventeen and starting the new semester and he was there. Sitting in my spot, right near the window. His wispy black hair fell about his darker skin, the colour of wood just after it’s been stripped of its bark. Not dark, dark, but definitely not pale.

He’d painted his nails black, and his jacket was leather. His fingers were full of silver rings, and I spotted a necklace peeking out from underneath his shirt. That wasn’t what stopped me in my tracks, though. What stopped me in my tracks was the moment I looked at him the baying and howling of the wild things abruptly stopped. For the first time, my mind was silent. Completely silent. I must’ve been staring because he turned and looked at me. His eyes were silver.

Oakley crashed into me from behind. I shook out my head and turned to look at his indignant face.

“Dude,” Oakley huffed, fixing his hair. “Sorry,” I mumbled, before quickly turning back to stare at him.

Oakley scoffed. He stared at me. I stared at him. “Can I... help you?” he asked, and his voice was so deep, like sap dripping from a tree. He rested his face on his ringed fist. I blinked. I felt my cheeks flush and I swallowed. “It’s just...well, I er—I just normally sit there, s’all.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to move?” I kept staring. My throat locked up. His eyes were so.... trapping. I felt like I couldn’t move when he looked at me. Oakley sighed rather pointedly from behind me. I shook my head. “N—no, it’s okay, I can sit... somewhere... else...” I trailed off, taking him in.

He exhaled awkwardly. “I can move, it’s not a problem.” I found myself unable to respond. The way he carried himself, the air about his face and the piercings in his ears just absolutely encapsulated me. I watched, becoming a stammering, stuttering mess until Oakley sighed. “It’s fine, we’ll sit somewhere else.” He dragged me to the back of the room and sat me down at one of the corner desks. I couldn’t stop staring at Him. Oakley dumped his bag at my feet and leaned over, blocking my view of him. I blinked, snapping out of a daze. Oakley had his hands on the table, resting on them as his hazel eyes met mine. He had an eyebrow raised, and the necklace of gold with Summer’s initials dangled below his neck. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What the hell was that?” I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply, staring at the small SN that was on his necklace. Oakley poked my face. “Hey. Don’t fucking ignore me.” I reluctantly drew my eyes to him. “What?" Oakley raised his eyebrow further. “Don’t you ‘what’ me, you dingbat. What the hell just happened?” I leaned back in my seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oakley bit his lip. “Okay, we’re doing that game.” I raised an eyebrow back at him. Oakley frowned. “Alright, fine, play dumb. But what I just saw is you see a person from out of town for the first time in your life and you’re immediately head over heels for him. I don’t discriminate, Atticus, but god fucking damn it could you have been any more obvious?” I flushed. “It’s not that—” “It sure fucking looks like it is!” Oakley hissed. I huffed. “Oakley, there are some things you don’t know about me.” “Well yeah, obviously.” I gave him a look.

Oakley gave me a look back. “What are you getting at here? Is there another reason for this... this utter bullshit?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “There is.”

Oakley blinked. “And this absolute... this newcomer here, who doesn’t even know your name, stops you dead in your tracks and you become a flustered mess, knows something about you that I don’t?” I hesitated. I peered around Oakley to have a look at the leather jacket. “Hey, answer the fucking question,” Oakley snapped quietly, slapping my face gently. I looked back at him. “W—well, I’m... I’m not sure if he knows it, but...” I trail off and sigh heavily. “It’s complicated.” Oakley raised his eyebrow again. “Complicated,” he repeated slowly.

“Yes,” I said. “Complicated.” Oakley pursed his lips. “Complicated,” he said slowly again.

I nodded. “Yes, Oakley. Complicated,” I insisted. Oakley sighed. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But don’t think it’s not gonna bother me all fucking day.” I looked at the floor. “I’ll tell you one day, Oakley.” Oakley scoffed. “Poetic? At eight a.m.? Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I laughed a little. “It seems so.” Oakley sat himself down in the seat beside me. I could see him now. And the asshole who’d slid into the seat next to him. A small, resounding cry of anger from a wild thing broke through, and I jumped in my seat a little. Harlow was leaning across the desk, a coy smile on his face. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it wasn’t anything good. It never was with Harlow. I leaned in to see if I could make out some of the words. “You’re brave, sitting there,” Harlow was saying. He nodded. “Mhm,” he said, disinterested. “The only person allowed to sit there is Atticus,” Harlow sneered. “We’ve met,” he said calmly. “He’s sitting over there.” He gestured behind himself offhandedly.

Harlow turned to look. I waved. Harlow snapped back to him. “So he is. He’s dangerous, you know,” he murmured. He nodded but I could tell he wasn’t taking in any of the information. “He tried to kill me when we were kids,” Harlow said. “I most certainly did not,” I snapped, regretting it as soon as it happened. Harlow scoffed. “You did.” I shook my head. “I didn’t try to kill you. I was just... protecting my family.” “Your little family of faggots,” Harlow jeered. I nearly leapt out of my seat at that very moment, but Oakley grabbed my arm.

“Atticus,” he warned. “Don’t.” Harlow whistled. “Your boyfriend protecting you? Should’ve known, from a family like yours.” Oakley’s hand tightened on my arm. “I’m dating Summer, you know that.”

Harlow scoffed. “Like that means anything. Everybody knows you lot are cheaters and liars,” he said. Oakley stood, fuming. I placed a hand on his arm, just like he had done me. He sat back down.

Harlow smirked. He watched on. Very awkwardly. I was about to speak up before Mr Reefrod placed his briefcase down on his desk loudly, breaking the tension and making Harlow sit back in his seat.

Mr. Reefrod cleared his throat. “If you don’t stop talking right now I will shorten the deadline for your summative by a day for every second you keep talking.” He began to observe his watch.

The chattering murmurs halted and the classroom fell silent. Mr. Reefrod smiled. “Excellent. Now, as Harlow has so graciously discovered, we have a new student.” The new one looked as if he wanted to die. I felt sympathetic. “May you please introduce yourself?” “My name is Callisto,” he said sharply and clearly. Mr. Reefrod nodded. “Don’t annoy him, because he has the newcomer privilege and my full permission to pull that card if he thinks any of you are being... stupid.” There was a slight nod. “Now, if you’ll please, we’re going to start off our lesson with...” I tuned out, staring at him. Callisto. Call-is-to. He looked nice. Really nice. Oh, gods, what if he could read minds? That wouldn’t be too far-fetched. He managed to silence the wild things. He could probably, most definitely read my mind. What if he was like, special? Sent here on business? Working undercover as a student? What if he was there for me? What if his beautiful, gorgeous, dazzling, starry silver eyes were meant to stare down the barrel of a gun at me coldly? What if he was here to kill me? Oh gods, what if he was actually a government spy? What if this really pretty boy was my demise? Oakley shoved me with his elbow. “Dude,” he whispered. “Stop fucking staring.” “You stare at Summer,” I snapped back. “Yes but that’s different! I know who she is! I love her! You barely know this guy’s name!”

I rolled my eyes and continued to admire the way Callisto’s rings glimmered as he scratched things into a book with an ornate pen.

I softly paced the grass of the oval. Oakley had track tryouts, so I walked laps of the field. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was a regular thing, actually. Oakley liked track. But as much as he tried, I would not run for school. I liked running, but not for a prize. Admittedly, I wasn’t about to win anything. I rounded the corner, glancing over behind the science block and stopped dead in my tracks. Callisto stood there, anxiously checking his phone. He looked up and saw me. Time seemed to slow down. His eyes were still silver, glistening brightly at me. He looked... handsome.

I suddenly felt very aware of every imperfection in my clothes. The wild things were completely shut out and I heard every shift he took while locked in a stance with me. And then he beckoned me over. I didn’t hesitate. I approached him carefully, like one would a baby deer. The world didn’t seem to snap back to normal time, it was more of a gradual ascent into mundanity that caught me off guard. Still, it was quiet at the back of the science block, and the sounds of an entire school let loose were muffled. It was now that I realised Callisto was taller than me, and I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet his gaze.

He seemed so much more... solid, up close. It took me by surprise. He checked his phone again. “Hey, Atticus, right?” he asked. I nodded. “That’s me.”

Callisto looked me up and down. He looked behind himself, and then me. I regarded him quizzically. “You good?” He stared at me, as if in shock, before stammering, “Y—Yes. I’m fine.” “Ooooh kay.” I rocked on my heels. “Anything you wanted to... tell me?” Callisto looked at me. He checked his phone again. He seemed like a deer in headlights.

I waited. And then Callisto did something very, very unexpected.

He put two hands on either side of my face—warm, almost feverish—and kissed me. Kissed me hard on the mouth. His lips were soft and warmer still than his hands. His hair fell in front of his face and met mine, tickling my eyelids—closed, when did that happen?

He pulled me in, and I mean really pulled me in, and exhaled long and low. I’d never been kissed like this before. I hadn’t even had a girlfriend. This was my first ever kiss, and it was with a boy whom I’d met that very same day.

Mama was going to kill me. His grip on my head weakened and he pulled away. I stood there, arms by my side, in shock, mouth open and staring at the pair of silver eyes before me. He muttered something that ended in ‘dangerous’ and then took hold of my face again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Before I could reply, he’d turned and bolted the other way, and I was left standing there, gingerly touching my lips and contemplating my life choices. And even though Callisto was gone, the wild things were still quiet.

“He fucking what!?” Oakley exclaimed, placing his hands on my shoulders. I shushed him. “Oakley, be quiet,” I hissed. Oakley looked at me like I was insane. We were sitting in a small forgotten about corner of a cafe—closed at that moment. “First of all, there’s nobody here to eavesdrop,” Oakley said, “And secondly, what in the motherfuck did you just tell me?” My shoulders hiked up to my ears sheepishly. “Callisto kissed me. And then apologised, and then ran off, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Oakley spluttered. “I’m gonna find him, and I’m gonna beat the ever-loving shit out of him.” “Ah, maybe don’t?” I tried. “Absolutely not. That was your first kiss, and the asshole just stole it.” Oakley was fuming. “Oakley, it was nice.” Oakley paused. “I liked it.” He stared at me for a moment. “I mean, I knew you had it down for him, but seriously?” I shrugged. “He’s a very pretty boy.” Oakley sighed. “Scratch that, I’m gonna murder you instead.” I breathed a laugh. And then my face fell. “Wait, what if he doesn’t come to class tomorrow?” Oakley raised an eyebrow. “I’ll find him.” The suspicions of Callisto’s real identity began to surface again. What if that was a test? What if that was all just a fluke, to see how I’d react? The wild things offered no consolation. They were still giving me the silent treatment. “There’s something about him, though,” I started, voice more serious. “I think he’s keeping secrets.” “Oh, really?” Oakley asked, and the sun beat down on him through the holes in the cafe umbrella. It illuminated his sarcasm. “Like you’re not keeping secrets.” I scoffed. “That’s different.” “Oh, but is it?”

I sighed. “Oakley, it is very much different. He’s all mysterious and probably working for some secret organisation, and I’m some eldritch horror from before time!” There was a pause. “I’m gonna pretend I know what those words mean.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I should probably get going.” “You’ve got real good news for your parents.” “Shut up.” I hugged him before walking away from him down the road, into the forest and onto the dirt path that guided my way home.

I kicked the dirt. “Come on, talk to me,” I told nobody in particular. I was standing on the edge of the dirt path, trying my very hardest not to screech at the wild things that’d gone silent. I took a step onto the lush undergrowth, beyond the edge. I breathed in deeply, the dappled light calming. A squirrel darted across in front of me. I smiled at it. I lowered myself to sit. And sit there I did, for a while, praying that the wild things would start up their clamouring howling and screeching. I sighed in dismay when they still wouldn’t let up. And then I did something very embarrassing but necessary. I rolled over and faceplanted into the dirt. And I listened. I felt the earth underneath me and I heard the thrum of the wilderness’ many, many heartbeats, and all of a sudden they were back, the wild things were back and screeching and howling and yelling and I smiled so wide and cried out in joy.

I smiled so hard and wide and stood and ran and danced in the trees, laughing with the wilderness. I touched the trees and dipped my feet in the stream and I tasted the berries and I waved at the squirrels. I called back to the birds and I watched the fish. And I breathed and I ran and I danced and I was alive and I was wild and it was oh the best thing.

I leaned against a tree, out of breath, but still smiling so wide it hurt my face. And I slowly but not sadly walked back to where I’d placed my bag on the dirt road and walked back home. I knew Mama would be back from the shop by now if nothing had come up, and Mum would’ve already started on dinner.

I carried my shoes in my hand and swung them as the trees welcomed me home. Mama was just getting out of her car, still in her grease-streaked work shirt when I rounded the corner to the house. She cocked her head at me. “Hey Ti-Ti, why’re you so late?” she asked, taking her big bag out of the trunk. I smiled. “Oh, no reason, just got a bit distracted in the forest, is all,” I told her, truthfully. Mama nodded and locked the car before coming up and hugging me. I was taller than she was now, and I laced her braids through my fingers and breathed deeply. She pulled off. “You and your forest,” she smiled softly, adoringly. I smiled back. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “No mishaps today, then? No violent urges?” she asked teasingly. I rolled my eyes. “You know they’re not like that.” She grinned. “I do.” She turned and began walking to the house. I rocked back on my feet. The birds seemed to be listening. “There was something odd, though.” She turned. I paused. I fiddled with my fingernails. “A new student was in our class today,” I said. “Oh?”

“Y—Yes,” I said, flushing as I remember what happened earlier. Mama noticed it immediately and raised her eyebrow. I laughed. “He’s, um, he’s nice.” “Nice.” “Yes, nice.”

“You wanna tell me the other thing?” Mama asked incredulously.

I smiled. I paused. I looked at the trees. I sighed. “And he’s really pretty.” Mama gasped and giggled like a teenager. “Tell me everything,” she said, taking me by the hand and sitting me down on the steps to our house. I laughed. “There’s not much to tell.” She shook her head. “That is not true at all.” I smiled. “His name is Callisto.”

Mama nodded. “I approve.” I covered my mouth with my hand as my cheeks flushed. “I think I like him.” “You met him today.” “That’s the thing.”

“Do tell.” I paused. My throat became thick and I found it hard to breathe. The wild things began to go absolutely feral. “He... well, I don’t know.” I sighed.

Mama raised an eyebrow. I pursed my lips. “You know about how the... the wild things in my head?”

She nodded.

“W—Well, when I look at him, they stop... yelling.”

Mama’s eyes widened. “But they never stop.”

“I know.” Mama fell silent. She was thinking. She always did this thing with her eyebrows when she was thinking. It was good for me because I wasn’t good with a lot of expressions, but this one I knew and recognised immediately. “It’s only when you look at him?” She asked, hands on her trousers. I paused and stammered. “Well, the strangest thing happened after he...” I trailed off.

“What did he do?” Mama’s voice was stern, almost dangerous. I became very red. “He... he um...” “He didn’t.” “He kissed me.” Mama gasped. The wilderness seemed to smile. Mama’s face ranged from surprise to joy to disappointment to anger and finally to a thoughtful frown.

I watched, unsure. She smiled. “Did you kiss him back?” I stammered. “It’s... um...”

“Wait.” Mama’s face fell. “Did he ask?” I shifted. “Was he... supposed to?” Mama looked at me incredulously. “Yes!”

“Oh.”

Mama sighed.

“I dunno... he seemed really anxious and kept checking his phone and then he uh.... he kissed me completely out of the blue,” I explained. Mama folded her arms with a stern frown. “I need to give this boy a talking to. Everyone knows it’s not right to just—kiss someone like that!”

I laughed. “It was nice.” She sighed. “That’s great, Ti-Ti, but it’s not really... proper.” I mimicked her sigh. “I would have kissed him back if it wasn’t for the... surprise?” Mama nodded. “And then what?”

“And then he ran off and I haven’t seen him since.” Mama’s mouth dropped open. She was fuming. She spluttered incredulously, indignantly, before finally taking a breath and composing herself. “Nope. Nope nope nope nope.” I tilted my head at her.

“No?”

Mama frowned, stood up and began to pace. “Nope. Not happening. This is not happening. Atticus, I’m actually about to explode.” I laughed nervously.

Mama went on. “I’m actually about to—” then she made a sound that wasn’t unlike an unhappy seagull. Then she stopped, turned, and looked at me. The trees rustled. “Atticus I don’t want you to have anything to do with this boy.” I stared.

“I don’t care how pretty he is, or how good of a kisser he is, but, I’m not letting you hang around someone who does that sort of thing,” she said sternly. I continued to stare. “And furthermore, he seems to be messing with your connection to the forest, and I don’t want you to lose that,” Mama said, gesturing vaguely to the trees. “So, I’m not going to let you be friends with him.” Something growled in my head. I’m not sure what. But I nodded at mama, and said, “okay. I trust you.” Mama exhaled. “Great. And if he even thinks about coming within a mile of this place I will have his head.” I chuckled. “Yes ma’am.” Mama nodded, evidently pleased with herself. “I’m going inside now.” I nodded. “You do that.”

Mama nodded once, twice, and then marched off behind me into the house. I sat on the steps and sighed heavily. The trees seemed to raise their eyebrows. I watched the ants in the dirt. I listened to the wind in the leaves. And I listened to the wild things and I smiled.

4 notes · View notes

nordleuchten · 2 months

Note

Do you have any favorite books about Lafayette or recommendations for someone wanting to learn more about him but isn't ready to jump into primary sources?

Dear Anon,

thank you for the Ask. I get questions like these quite often and if you go through my posts, you can find different recommendations for different people/questions/topics/ levels of depth/etc. Since you do not seem to look for some incredible detailed analyses of some niche aspects of La Fayette’s live, we will focus on the more general books.

Here I can recommend Hero of two Worlds by Mike Duncan and Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger. They are both good and comprehensive overviews about La Fayette’s life from cradle to grave. Unger has a few more information and Duncan gives better sources and is more neutral, if you were to ask me, but both books are good starting points.

If you are looking for books that are still rather general and broad, but with a bit more focus on a special episode of La Fayette’s live/ a special topic, I can recommend For Liberty and Glory by James R. Gaines (one of my personal favourites), a book about La Fayette’s and Washington’s relationship, and their different approaches to Revolution. I can also recommend The Marquis – Lafayette Reconsidered by Laura Auricchio for new perspectives.

Lastly, even if you say that you are not quite ready to jump into primary sources, let put in a good word for primary sources. They can easily look a bit intimidating and overwhelming, especially when you are still looking for the best way to access and handle them – but they are also so much fun. I found La Fayette an interesting character when I started reading about him but in the end my enthusiasm was lackluster, he was one of many dead people I was reading about – taking a deep dive into more primary sources made a difference for me.

Anyway, I hope some of these books work well for you and happy reading! I hope you have/had a wonderful day!

#ask me anything #anon #marquis de lafayette #la fayette #french history #american history #history #american revolution #french revolution #books #resources #hero of two worlds #lafayette #for liberty and glory #louis gottschalk #the marquis lafayette recinsidered

8 notes · View notes

agrippinaes · 5 months

Text

books I read in 2023

I read 240 books in 2023, which is lower than my total books read than the past few years. But it'd be ridiculous to be bothered by it because, hey, I still read 240 books!

I set myself a goal of trying to read more out of my comfort zone this year. I wanted to read 30 non-romance books, 25 physical books, and 10 non-fiction books. By the end of the year, I'd read a total of 54 non-romance books, 62 physical books, and 27 non-fiction books. I'm hoping to continue in this vein in 2024.

Other stats - for fun -

My most-read author was Cassie Mint

I gave out 32 5* ratings

My most-read genre was (of course) romance, 120 of which were contemporary

I owned most of the books I read

I read the most books in June, with 34 books read, followed by August, with 25 books read

My most read trope was forced proximity, followed by hate-to-love

So, below is a list of the books I read this year. Rereads are italicised, favourite reads are in bold.

Recollection by Noelle Adams

When in Rome by Sarah Adams

Spring Breeze by Lily Alexander

Fornever Yours by Natasha Anders

Don't Pretend I'm Yours by Natasha Anders

In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes by Stephanie Archer

The Long Game by Elena Armas

The Witchwood Knot by Olivia Atwater

Finding Love in Apartment 2C by Samantha Baca

Asking for Trouble by Tessa Bailey

Unfortunately Yours by Tessa Bailey

Same Time Next Year by Tessa Bailey

Kept by Maya Banks

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo

Chick Magnet by Emma Barry

The (Ex) Spy Who (Maybe) Loved Me by Christi Barth

Wet and Reckless by Samanthe Beck

Witches Copse by Math Bird

The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

Every Wish Way by Shannon Bright

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte

Desire or Defense by Leah Brunner

Enchanted to Meet You by Meg Cabot

Ms Perfectly Fine by Kate Callaghan

Shucked by Kate Canterbary

1 Last Shot by Nikki Castle

Eyes on Me by Sarah Cate

Highest Bidder by Sarah Cate

Why Didn't They Ask Evans? by Agatha Christie

Go Hex Yourself by Jessica Clare

Beauty and the Billionaire by Jessica Clare

Georgie, All Along by Kate Clayborn

Pining for My Friend's Dad by Daniella Cole

Unsteady by Peyton Corinne

Her Greatest Mistake by Hannah Cowan

Shadows of You by Catherine Cowles

Night Shift by Annie Crown

Her Majesty's Royal Coven by Juno Dawson

Bending the Rules by Mariah Dietz

Moist Actually by Ash Dylan

Everything's Better with Lisa by Lucy Eden

The Fall of Bradley Reed by Morgan Elizabeth

The Protector by Morgan Elizabeth

A Matter of Scandal by Suzanne Enoch

Reforming a Rake by Suzanne Enoch

Pretty Little Thing by L.K. Farlow

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett

The Nanny by Lana Ferguson

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli

Mafia Virgin by Mila Finelli

No Limits by Lori Foster

Holding Strong by Lori Foster

Tough Love by Lori Foster

Fighting Dirty by Lori Foster

True Spies by Shana Galen

The Pumpkin Spice Cafe by Laurie Gilmore

A Cup of Zodiac by Alexis Gorgun

Wildfire by Hannah Grace

Trust Me by Rachel Grant

Control Freak by Brianna Hale

Dom Fitness by Brianna Hale

Gym Bunny by Brianna Hale

Princess Brat by Brianna Hale

The Twyford Code by Janice Hallett

The Christmas Appeal by Janice Hallett

Runaway Love by Melanie Harlow

Witches Get Stuff Done by Molly Harper

Rent to Be by Sonia Hartl

Temptation by Jenna Hartley

An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak by Jennifer Hartmann

A Pessimist's Guide to Love by Jennifer Hartmann

A Witch's Guide to Fake Dating a Demon by Sarah Hawley

Billion Dollar Enemy by Olivia Hayle

When a Duke Loves a Woman by Lorraine Heath

One Touch by Lena Hendrix

The League of Gentlewomen Witches by India Holton

Godmersham Park by Gill Hornby

Twisted Love by Ana Huang

King of Greed by Ana Huang

Babymoon or Bust by Ava Hunter

Pucked by Helena Hunting

Kiss My Cupcake by Helena Hunting

Five Survive by Holly Jackson

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Not That Duke by Eloisa James

Seven Minutes in Heaven by Eloisa James

String Me Along by Lilian T. James

The Intern by Sophia Karlson

Offside by Avery Keelan

Shutout by Avery Keelan

Against the Clock by Brittany Kelley

Against the Odds by Brittany Kelley

Willow and the Wolf by Elizabeth Kelly

Ava and the Bear by Elizabeth Kelly

Hold by Claire Kent

Nameless by Claire Kent

Nettle and Bone by T. Kingfisher

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher

Hot Single Dad by Claire Kingsley

Love in the Afternoon by Lisa Kleypas

A Wallflower Christmas by Lisa Kleypas

Jingle Bell Beard by Julie Kriss

Forever Your Rogue by Erin Langston

Grimstone by Sophie Lark

The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience by Miranda Lee

Only a Monster by Vanessa Len

A Rake's Guide to Seduction by Caroline Linden

Good Girl Fail by Roni Loren

Hate You by Tracy Lorraine

Fighting Mr. Knight by Rosa Lucas

Fifth Avenue Fling by Rosa Lucas

Crash by Tamara Lush

Drive by Tamara Lush

Consider Me by Becka Mack

Bombshell by Sarah MacLean

Wife Project by Chloe Maine

To Hate Adam Connor by Ella Maise

Recipe for Love by Anne Malcom

Method for Matrimony by Anne Malcom

New Hope, Old Grudges by Anne Malcom

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

Her Best Worst Mistake by Sarah Mayberry

Dahlia Made a List by Jenna McCall

Breathless by Amy McCulloch

This Charming Man by C.K. McDonnell

Love Will Tear Us Apart by C.K. McDonnell

Sticks and Stone by Grace McGinty

Trail of Deception by Amanda McKinney

A Missing Connection by Dani McLean

Four Weddings and a Duke by Michelle McLean

Crash by Ruby McNally

An Extravagant Duplicity by Lynn Messina

Thief by Cassie Mint

Hacker by Cassie Mint

Honey Trap by Cassie Mint

Beauty and the Kingpin by Cassie Mint

Ocean Jewel by Cassie Mint

Big Boss by Cassie Mint

Grump Gone Wild by Cassie Mint

Ride or Die by Cassie Mint

Thin Ice by Cassie Mint

Husband Skills by Cassie Mint

The Stranger by Cassie Mint

She Was Made for Me by Jen Morris

A Holly Jolly Ever After by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone

Playing by the Rules by Monica Murphy

The Brazen by Willa Nash

How to Lose at Love by Sarah Ney

Pleasing Mr. Parker by Elle Nicoll

Convergence of Desire by Felicity Niven

Duke the Halls by Felicity Niven

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Elizabeth O'Roark

The Devil You Know by Elizabeth O'Roark

The Devil Gets His Due by Elizabeth O'Roark

The Summer I Saved You by Elizabeth O'Roark

All Downhill With You by Julie Olivia

The Love Wager by Lynn Painter

A Deal With the Bossy Devil by Kyra Parsi

The Barista's Guide to Perfect Steam by Valerie Pepper

Timid by Devney Perry

Call Me Irresistible by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac by Rose Prendeville

The River Knows by Amanda Quick

Dangerous by Amanda Quick

Reckless by Amanda Quick

Otherwise Engaged by Amanda Quick

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen

The Fantasy League by Meg Reading

Accidentally Compromising the Duke by Stacy Reid

An Earl to Remember by Stacy Reid

First Down by Grace Reilly

Breakaway by Grace Reilly

Alive at Night by Amelie Rhys

Playing the Part by Macy T. Riosa

Contractual Obligations by Elle Rivers

This Spells Love by Kate Robb

Rough by Renee Rose and Vanessa Vale

Wild by Renee Rose and Vanessa Vale

Done and Dusted by Lyla Sage

Hunting for a Highlander by Lynsay Sands

Things We Hide From the Light by Lucy Score

Things We Left Behind by Lucy Score

The Gangster's Prize by Joanna Shupe

Flawless by Elsie Silver

Heartless by Elsie Silver

Sinners Condemned by Somme Sketcher

Sinners Consumed by Somme Sketcher

Take My Daddy, I'll Take Yours by Jenika Snow

First Meet Foul by Jaqueline Snowe

Everyone In My Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Cottage by Lisa Stone

Love in the Time of Serial Killers by Alicia Thompson

Women Talking by Miriam Toews

Mile High by Liz Tomforde

Man Candy by Vanessa Vale

Man Cave by Vanessa Vale

Man Splain by Vanessa Vale

Man Handle by Vanessa Vale

South by Vanessa Vale

Wall St. Jerk by Megan Wade

The Pawn by Skye Warren

The Knight by Skye Warren

His Curvy Rejected Mate by Cate C. Wells

Secret Santa by Kati Wilde

To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis

The Boyfriend Candidate by Ashley Winstead

Dear Grumpy Boss by Julia Wolf

Sincerely, Your Inconvenient Wife by Julia Wolf

Shiver by Suzanne Wright

Tempt Me by Tara Wyatt

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

A Little Too Close by Rebecca Yarros

#2023 books #mine #about me

0 notes