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Young Adult Books for Women

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Essays of Michel de Montaigne

Essays of Michel de Montaigne

The present publication is intended to supply a recognised deficiency in our literature—a library edition of the Essays of Montaigne. This great French writer deserves to be regarded as a classic, not only in the land of his birth, but in all countries and in all literatures. His Essays, which are at once the most celebrated and the most permanent of his productions, form a magazine out of which such minds as those of Bacon and Shakespeare did not disdain to help themselves; and, indeed, as Hallam observes, the Frenchman's literary importance largely results from the share which his mind had in influencing other minds, coeval and subsequent. But, at the same time, estimating the value and rank of the essayist, we are not to leave out of the account the drawbacks and the circumstances of the period: the imperfect state of education, the comparative scarcity of books, and the limited opportunities of intellectual intercourse. Montaigne freely borrowed of others, and he has found men willing to borrow of him as freely. We need not wonder at the reputation which he with seeming facility achieved. He was, without being aware of it, the leader of a new school in letters and morals. His book was different from all others which were at that date in the world. It diverted the ancient currents of thought into new channels. It told its readers, with unexampled frankness, what its writer's opinion was about men and things, and threw what must have been a strange kind of new light on many matters but darkly understood. Above all, the essayist uncased himself, and made his intellectual and physical organism public property. He took the world into his confidence on all subjects. His essays were a sort of literary anatomy, where we get a diagnosis of the writer's mind, made by himself at different levels and under a large variety of operating influences.
The Day I Became Free

The Day I Became Free

Thanksgiving was supposed to be a day of gratitude and family. I' d worked double shifts, saved every penny to buy my mom, Maria, a warm winter coat. I even clung to a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, today would be different, that she'd finally see my efforts. But my brother, Caleb, saw a massive banner for a 'Gratitude Exchange' TV show, offering a new PSX-Pro console. Maria didn't hesitate. She looked at me, then at the gaming system, and declared, "Why spend money when you have all that gratitude? It's not like it does anyone any good." My heart shattered as she forced me to sign a contract, agreeing to trade "my gratitude for her" for a video game. On live television, they hooked us up to a memory scanner. Maria and Caleb twisted my past, painting me as an ungrateful, destructive monster to the whole country. They exposed selective, ugly moments, cheering as the 'Approve Trade' vote soared, while I stood there, voiceless, watching my own mother publicly erase me. How could she? How could my own mother weaponize my memories against me, fabricating a monstrous version of her daughter for a new gaming console? Was my entire existence, my endless sacrifices, truly worth less than a toy? But then, it was my turn. As my memories flashed across the screen, the real story unfolded: my sacrifices, their manipulations, their true cruelty revealed to the world. And as the public' s outrage turned the vote decisively in my favor, I knew exactly what I had to do. This wasn't just about a console; it was about freedom.
Ruin Me, Stepbrother

Ruin Me, Stepbrother

Blurb "I want to hold you, control you." He rasped in my ear, his voice rigid-cold and at the same time sexy. It made me melt, made me come-nevertheless it broke me too. "Your thoughts, your body is all mine. I own you, all of you." Saying this, he bind my wrists, handcuffing them to the velvet headboard. He leaned in, bringing his head closer to my pussy. He licked, bit me, claimed all of me. I moaned, bringing my thighs wide, further. "Do you like it, Sienna?" I nodded like an idiot, forgetting the fact that he was my stepbrother. "I don't like it, Soren." My breath caught in my chest as I felt warm juice spill through my punani, "I love it, Soren. Everything you do to me." ***** The confused, pleasure-hungry nerd who fell for her stepbrothers? That was me, Sienna Cruz. At first, I thought I'd be able to conquer the urge of wanting my stepbrothers but no, I fell more deeper-lost in the ocean of depravity and Sin. Simon is the calm one, we were close. He was soft hearted and I liked him. Whenever we talked, I would find myself staring at his bulge. His morning erection was damn beautiful. He would ask, "Sienna, are you okay?" I would nod, lying I was but deep down what I craved was every inch of him. All that wanted to break from my lips was "Bury your cock deep in my pussy. Break every wall of restriction." And Soren? He was the demon amongst the twin brothers. I thought I hated him until I found myself staring way too much at the photo mom forced us to take during summer. His Ocean Blue eyes pulled me in. The arrogant smirk on his face spelt more than it looked. He was way too charming. Who did I like more? Simon or Soren? I swear I do not know. Soren was a demon, yet I find myself crawling back to his bed and when Simon flashed that cute smile at me? It made me helpless. I couldn't bring myself to a stop at my forbidden attraction at both brothers. Soren's charm was more gripping. I fantasized a lot about his rod and all I wanted was for him to ruin me in the worst way ever.
Sailing Alone Around the World

Sailing Alone Around the World

"The classic of its kind." —Travel World"One of the most readable books in the whole library of adventure." —Sports Illustrated"The finest single-handed adventure story yet written." —SeafarerChallenged by an expert who said it couldn't be done, Joshua Slocum, an indomitable New England sea captain, set out in April of 1895 to prove that a man could sail alone around the world. 46,000 miles and a little over 3 years later, the proof was complete: Captain Slocum had performed the epic "first" single-handedly in a trusty 34-foot sloop called the "Spray." This is Slocum's own account of his remarkable adventures during the historic voyage.Slocum writes in a fast-paced, exhilarating style. His almost matter-of-fact descriptions of hazardous episodes and his colorful, often witty observations make this book perhaps the most delightful and absorbing adventure tale in history. Across the Atlantic he sailed, but chased by Moorish pirates off Gibraltar, he decided to circle Cape Horn instead and go around the world the other way! He tells of perils on stormy seas and of numerous harrowing events: his escape from a fleet of hostile canoes; an encounter with Black Pedro, "the worst murderer in Tierra del Fuego"; foiling a nocturnal attack by savages by strewing carpet tacks on the "Spray's" deck; submerged by a great wave off the Patagonian coast; the "rain of blood" in Australia; dodging coral reefs in the South Seas. In Samoa, he was visited by Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson; in South Africa, he talked congenially with Stanley of "Stanley and Livingstone" fame, and met "Oom Paul" Kruger, President of the Transvaal republic. Kruger was incensed when one of his officials described Slocum's voyage as "around the world," since his religious beliefs convinced him that the world was flat!This robust classic of the sea has been widely read ever since its first publication in 1900. It has been reprinted several times and has even been required reading in many schools. This edition (complete with all of the original Thomas Fogarty illustrations) of Captain Slocum's story will prove as enjoyable and thrilling to the present generation of Americans as it was to our fathers and grandfathers.
The Girl They Buried Alive

The Girl They Buried Alive

Every day of my life, I, Hailey, was keenly aware I was nothing but an unwanted burden to my parents, Frank and Brenda, their every word and action reserved instead for my coddled younger brother, Kevin. Thanksgiving approached, and their solution to saving money for Kevin's new gaming console was horrific: I was to travel hundreds of miles, locked inside an old, smelly footlocker, checked as luggage on a Greyhound bus. Buried in suffocating darkness, I scratched at the lid with weakening fingers as the air dwindled, until my desperate struggle became nothing more than a final gasp before floating into oblivion. Upon arrival, my parents, eager to enjoy the holiday, left my tomb in a corner, only to casually open it a day later to find my lifeless, blue body, eliciting Frank's curse and Brenda's chilling remark about the "bad luck" I brought before they paid a local man, with the money saved from my bus fare and food, to bury me swiftly and quietly in an unmarked grave, forgotten for Kevin's new treats. To them, my life was merely an obstacle, and my agonizing death was nothing more than an inconvenience, solidifying their profound and terrifying indifference towards me. But then, with a choked gasp, I bolted upright in my bed, the morning sun streaming through my window, and realized I had been given an impossible second chance: it was the same fateful Thanksgiving morning, the old footlocker by the door, and this time, I wouldn't just obey.