Fiction Books

Would you rather die for love or kill for love? My sister lives her life looking through rose-colored glasses. It comes from looking at the world through blood... a vampire's gaze. It's a world where everyone wants to drink her blood. How much can she give before she flows over? And how many people do I have to kill to make it stop? This novel was written by Stephanie Van Orman without the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE PLAIN—THE ISOLATED DWELLING—BLUE-BERRY PARTY—TAKING A VOTE—TREATMENT OF NEW ACQUAINTANCES—THE FAMILY AT APPLEDALE—THE YOUNG PEOPLE UPON THE PLAIN—SINCERE MILK OF THE WORD—A CALL AT THE LOG-HOUSE—THE RIDE HOME—ORIGINAL POETRY. Not more than a mile and a half from a pleasant village in one of our eastern States is a plain, extending many miles, and terminated on the... more...

hen I came into the control room the Captain looked up from a set of charts at me. He stood up and gave me a salute and I returned it, not making a ceremony out of it. "Half an hour to landing, sir," he said. That irritated me. It always irritates me. "I'm not an officer," I said. "I'm not even an enlisted man." He nodded, too quickly. "Yes, Mr. Carboy," he... more...

CHAPTER I THE GREAT MRS. DE PEYSTER It was a raw, ill-humored afternoon, yet too late in the spring for the ministration of steam heat, so the unseasonable May chill was banished from Mrs. De Peyster's sitting-room by a wood fire that crackled in the grate; crackled most decorously, be it added, for Mrs. De Peyster's fire would no more have forgotten itself and shown a boisterous enthusiasm... more...

PROLOGUE. It was November in London. The great city was buried under a dank, yellow fog. Traffic was temporarily checked; foot passengers groped their way by the light of the street lamps, and the hoarse shouts of the link boys running before cabs and carriages with blazing torches rang at intervals above the muffled rumble of countless wheels. In the coffee-room of a quiet hotel on the Strand a young... more...

She never knew Jesus, the Christ, the only begotten Son of God, by name, although He most assuredly knew her when He formed her in her mother's womb. His time was not yet come. She was never to hear of the Tower of Babel, or of Abraham, Isaac, andJacob, and of Egypt and Moses, of Babylon or the Jews, the RomanEmpire, the Cross, or any of the modern religions of the world. Theywere not yet. She... more...

CHAPTER I About the time the winner of the Baltimore Handicap flashed under the wire, Johnny Gamble started to tear up a bundle of nice pink tickets on Lady S. Just then Ashley Loring came by swiftly in the direction of the betting shed. Loring stopped and wheeled when he caught sight of him as did most men who knew him. "Hello, Johnny! I didn't know you had run over. How are you picking them... more...

CHAPTER I.Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll;. . . . . . Upon the watery plain.The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of man's ravage, save his own,When for a moment like a drop of rain,He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. September 27, 1607. Dead bodies everywhere. The ocean, lashed to fury by the gale of... more...

INTRODUCTION. OUR generous friends in Georgia and South Carolina will not add among their assumptions that we know nothing of the South and Southern life. A residence of several years in those States, a connection with the press, and associations in public life, gave us opportunities which we did not lose, and have not lost sight of; and if we dipped deeper into the vicissitudes of life and law than... more...

'Tis two score years since Carroll's art, With topsy-turvy magic,SentAlicewondering through a partHalf-comic and half-tragic. Enchanting Alice! Black-and-white Has made your deeds perennial;And naught save "Chaos and old Night"Can part you now fromTenniel; But still you are a Type, and based In Truth, likeLearandHamlet;And Types may be re-draped to tasteIn cloth-of-gold or camlet.... more...