I will link the book reccomendation threads for ALL of the genres here. Click on which you're looking for! https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/fantasy-book-recs?p=a597e9c1 FANTASY https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/romance-book-recs?p=7db61bcf ROMANCE https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/mystery-thriller-book-recs?p=40e0588f MYSTERY & THRILLER https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/horror-book-recs?p=8af10a7d HORROR https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/sci-fi-book-recs?p=1289911b SCI-FI https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/historical-fiction-book-recs?p=dada77b1 HISTORICAL FICTION https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/self-help-nonfiction-book-recs?p=73bf167e SELF-HELP & NONFICTION https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/lgbtq-recommendations?p=c227879f LGBTQ https://www.skool.com/the-book-circle-7272/dystopian-novels?p=26f67ec8 DYSTOPIAN

I've been hearing about a few upcoming books, but I haven't seen much excitement yet—have any caught your eye? Or are we all in a reading slump when it comes to new releases? Seriously, I’d love to know what books you’re looking forward to this year! 📖✨️

To all the writers holding back their work, this message is for you. As a publisher, editor, and ghostwriter, I’ve seen firsthand the incredible power that stories can have—but I’ve also seen too many powerful voices go unheard because of fear. If you've written a book and you're hesitant to publish it, know this: Your voice deserves to be read. Every great author was once uncertain. Every bestselling book once sat unpublished on someone’s desk or computer. What separates the published from the forgotten isn't perfection—it's courage. If you’re afraid of rejection, remember: rejection isn’t the end—it’s part of the process. If you’re afraid it’s not "good enough," let a professional help you polish it until it is. If you don’t know where to start, I’m here to guide you. I offer full support—from ghostwriting and developmental editing to publishing strategy and marketing—because I believe every story that’s written deserves the chance to be heard. Don’t let fear hold your book hostage. Let’s bring your words to life—and into the hands of the readers who need them.

Hey everyone! To make discussions smoother and more organized, I’ve created a dedicated section for chats and a reference space to help us stay on track. "Book Discussions" Section: - This is where you’ll find weekly chats for our current read in one place - Feel free to share thoughts, theories, and reactions "Classroom" Page: - This is our organized reference space to help everyone stay on track for ALL of our reads - Use it to check the reading schedule, key updates, and structured guidance for our Monthly Read as that is our MAIN guide page

So I want to write a book, and I'm working on it right now. I want to know what ya'll think about the first chapter (it's not done, that's why it might seem short). It might be cringe, but if anything needs to be tweaked, please let me know! Here: One Griffith “Mama! Papa! Please don’t leave me!” I burst into tears. I shake my head, not believing anything. My parents lie on the ground, blood splattered all over their clothing with a piercing hole through where their hearts were. I grasp their hands while my tears drop onto them. Their eyes are cold and white, their heads lolled to the side. “Please…” I collapsed onto them, still crying. I suddenly jolted out of my sleep, sweat drenching my plain, dirt smeared shirt and my rough, cardboard bed. Great. My thin blanket is now soaked and stinky—not like it was ever clean. My eyelids droop, but I force them open. A headache crashes into my temples like a thunderstorm as I crawl out of bed. Sweat runs down my bare back as I strip my wet shirt off. I use a ragged towel to wipe the warm droplets off my skin. I then grab my only other pair of wrinkly clothes that are bunched up in a trash bag, and change into them. I grab a cracked mirror I found in the dump and check myself. My deep, aqua blue eyes pierce into the mirror as my curly, walnut brown hair falls down onto my forehead, just above my eyebrows. I left my wet clothes hanging, so they could dry. I then put on my muddy, worn out shoes and get out of my crappy tent. I take my usual seat outside my tent and put a red plastic cup in front of me, along with a sign that says, “Please donate. I lost my parents and I need money to support myself. Thank you!” I don’t really know why there’s a ‘thank you’ part because I can’t say thank you to crap. The only donation I’ve got this week was a rusty copper ruhe. How am I supposed to live off a copper ruhe? I lost my parents when I was only six years old. I’m now seventeen, surviving by myself on the streets. I don’t clearly remember what happened, except for when vivid dreams reveal more and more. All I know is that their hearts were pierced and I cried so much that I collapsed on top of them. Whoever murdered my parents must die for making me suffer. Losing parents is one of the worst things that could happen to you when you’re a child.