Keri Smith

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It Sounded Better...
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by Nina Kenwood (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 200 of 272)
Apr 17, 2026 11:24PM

 
Under the Dome
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by Stephen King (Goodreads Author)
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White as Snow
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  (page 206 of 320)
Apr 12, 2026 08:52AM

 
See all 7 books that Keri is reading…
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John Bellairs
“He held the book up to his nose. It smelled like Old Spice talcum powder. Books that smelled that way were usually fun to read. He threw the book onto his bed and went to his suitcase. After rummaging about for awhile, he came up with a long, narrow box of chocolate-covered mints. He loved to eat candy while he read, and lots of his favorite books at home had brown smudges on the corners of the pages.”
John Bellairs, The House with a Clock in Its Walls

P.G. Wodehouse
“There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.”
P.G. Wodehouse, Jeeves in the Morning

J.D. Salinger
“He was rather like a Christmas tree whose lights, wired in series, must all go out if even one bulb is defective.”
J.D. Salinger, Nine Stories

Heather O'Neill
“A cat peeped in the window. It had one white paw. One night it had decided to dip it into the reflection of the moon in a fountain to see what would happen.”
Heather O'Neill, The Girl Who Was Saturday Night

Jeanette Winterson
“There was a man here, lashed himself to a spar as his ship went down, and for seven days and seven nights he was on the sea, and what kept him alive while others drowned was telling himself stories like a madman, so that as one ended another began. On the seventh day he had told all the stories he knew and that was when he began to tell himself as if he were a story, from the earliest beginnings to his green and deep misfortune. The story he told was of a man lost and found, not once, but many times, as he choked his way out of the waves. And the night fell, he saw the Cape Wrath light, only lit a week it was, but it was, and he knew that if he became the story of the light, he might be saved. With his last strength he began to paddle towards it, arms on either side of the spar, and in his mind the light became a shining rope, pulling him in. He took hold of it, tied it round his waist, and at that moment, the keeper saw him, and ran for the rescue boat.”
Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

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