Fiction
- Action & Adventure 184
- Alternative History 1
- Biographical 15
- Christian 59
- Classics 6965
- Coming of Age 5
- Contemporary Women 4
- Erotica 8
- Espionage/Intrigue 12
- Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology 236
- Family Life 169
- Fantasy 119
- Gay 1
- General 596
- Ghost 32
- Historical
- Horror 43
- Humorous 162
- Jewish 25
- Legal 4
- Literary 2
- Medical 23
- Mystery & Detective 315
- Occult 1
- Political 49
- Psychological 41
- Religious 64
- Romance 162
- Sagas 11
- Science Fiction 730
- Sea Stories 113
- Short Stories (single author) 539
- Sports 10
- Suspense 2
- Technological 8
- Thrillers 3
- Urban Life 31
- Visionary & Metaphysical 1
- War & Military 173
- Westerns 199
Historical Books
Sort by:
by:
Leo Tolstoy
Chapter I All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows and the street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne over the city from the church towers, suggests the approach of morning. The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a night-cabman's sledge kneads up the snow and sand in the street as...
more...
by:
Walter Scott
GENERAL PREFACE TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS And must I ravel outMy weaved-up follies? Richard II, Act IV. Having undertaken to give an Introductory Account of the compositions which are here offered to the public, with Notes and Illustrations, the Author, under whose name they are now for the first time collected, feels that he has the delicate task of speaking...
more...
by:
Irving Bacheller
CHAPTER I THE HORSE VALLEY ADVENTURE "The first time I saw the boy, Jack Irons, he was about nine years old. I was in Sir William Johnson's camp of magnificent Mohawk warriors at Albany. Jack was so active and successful in the games, between the red boys and the white, that the Indians called him 'Boiling Water.' His laugh and tireless spirit reminded me of a mountain brook. There...
more...
THE MAY-DAY QUEEN This is the book of Lappo Lappi, called by his friends the careless, the happy-go-lucky, the devil-may-take-it, the God-knows-what. Called by his enemies drinker, swinker, tumbler, tinker, swiver. Called by many women that liked him pretty fellow, witty fellow, light fellow, bright fellow, bad fellow, mad fellow, and the like. Called by some women who once loved him Lapinello,...
more...
by:
Jane Barlow
OUT OF THE WAY To Lisconnel, our very small hamlet in the middle of a wide bogland, the days that break over the dim blue hill-line, faint and far off, seldom bring a stranger's face; but then they seldom take a familiar one away, beyond reach, at any rate of return before nightfall. In fact, there are few places amid this mortal change to which we may come back after any reasonable interval with...
more...
"Have you got something good? Then put the basket down and go along home!" This was one usual greeting from old Mahlmann when we brought him provisions. He was very old, and rarely out of his bed, only now and then on warm summer days he sat on the bench before his tiny cottage and basked in the sun. If a painter had ever strayed to our uninteresting little town he would certainly have put old...
more...
by:
H. Beam Piper
It was almost midnight, on January 2, 1863, and the impromptu party at the Ratcliffe home was breaking up. The guest of honor, General J. E. B. Stuart, felt that he was overstaying his welcome—not at the Ratcliffe home, where everybody was soundly Confederate, but in Fairfax County, then occupied by the Union Army. About a week before, he had come raiding up from Culpepper with a strong force of...
more...
by:
Georg Ebers
CHAPTER I. The Nile had overflowed its bed. The luxuriant corn-fields and blooming gardens on its shores were lost beneath a boundless waste of waters; and only the gigantic temples and palaces of its cities, (protected from the force of the water by dikes), and the tops of the tall palm-trees and acacias could be seen above its surface. The branches of the sycamores and plane-trees drooped and floated...
more...
CHAPTER I. THE OUTLAWS. It was a bright morning in the month of August, when a lad of some fifteen years of age, sitting on a low wall, watched party after party of armed men riding up to the castle of the Earl of Evesham. A casual observer glancing at his curling hair and bright open face, as also at the fashion of his dress, would at once have assigned to him a purely Saxon origin; but a keener eye...
more...
I There were eight of us in the room, and we were discussing contemporary matters and persons, "I do not understand these gentlemen!" remarked A.—"They are fellows of a reckless sort…. Really, desperate…. There has never been anything of the kind before." "Yes, there has," put in P., a grey-haired old man, who had been born about the twenties of the present...
more...