Artbook Collection Novels & Stories

Ace explained before he grinned at me. I knew immediately that he was being absolutely sarcastic especially when he spoke about the books that lined the shelves. His collection of books related to our field of work, art, and creativity, seemed very exhaustive and included some rare books that were hard to get in hardcover as well. I stood in front of the bookshelf as I admired it. “These books are amazing. I should steal some of them sometimes…” I said with a laugh. “Please do…” he replied casually. “Which one would you recommend?” I asked.

I kept shifting the way I sat, trying to find a position that didn’t make my stomach twist. “Cara.” I flinched before I realized it was Selina. She stood over my desk with a sleek binder in one hand and a notepad in the other, dressed like she’d just stepped out of a high-fashion warzone—flawless and terrifying. “Yes?” I said, straightening quickly. “I need you to start re-cataloguing the Strathmore collection. Also the new installations from the Kyoto exhibit? The inventory team messed up the tagging system again.” I blinked. “Both of those? That’s... going to take a few days.”

“I know it sounds batshit insane. Like the caller’s hallucinating or screwing with me. But he knew things—details no one should. And if there’s even a chance…” Lysander held up a hand, stopping me. “It doesn’t sound insane. Not entirely.” I blinked, caught off guard. “What?” He pushed off the table, walking to a bookshelf in the corner crammed with art books, sketchpads, and a few dusty tomes that looked older than the school. He pulled one out—a thick, leather-bound volume with faded gold lettering: “Mythos and Metaphor: Ancient Lore in Modern Art.” He flipped through it, landing on a page with illustrations of snarling wolves under full moons, runes etched around the borders.

"Your artwork is a masterpiece, Sophia. It resonates with so many people, and we're honored to have it as part of our collection." Overwhelmed with joy, Sophia accepted the organization's offer to display her artwork in their museum. "Art of Letting Go" would be showcased alongside other notable pieces, inspiring and touching the lives of countless individuals. As the exhibition date approached, Sophia's artwork was carefully prepared for display. The museum buzzed with excitement, and on the opening night, Sophia's piece was met with thunderous applause. Viewers stood captivated before "Art of Letting Go," drawn into its emotional landscape. Sophia's artwork had transcended its canvas, beco

Each time he reached across her to grab book or pen, or brushed against her , Cassie could feel the spark between them. Despite her best efforts to maintain professionalism, Dr Cassie couldn’t help but indulge in these little, sensual moments. Their lingering glances and accidental touches were exciting, a sweet mix of risk and desire that left her wanting more. One evening, as they were finishing on the final chapter for Dylan's project , he suggested they grab a coffee . It was a casual offer, but Cassie knew that crossing that line could lead to something dangerous . Still, she found herself agreeing, unable to resist his lure.They walked to the local cafe , which was just a few minutes w

All the way through. She did not speak. I drank my coffee. Outside the street moved. Inside the place was quiet and warm and neither of us was in any hurry. When she reached the last page she closed the sketchbook. Set both hands flat on the cover. “Anita,” she said. “I know.” “No.” She looked at me. “I don’t think you do.” She paused. “This is a collection. Not sketches. Not drawings. A collection. It has a point of view. It has a language. Every single piece is in conversation with the others.”

"The products from this series are not considered popular, nor are they cultural relics. It was just an inspiration from a small studio under us at the time. The popularity has always been low. How would Ms. Renault know about it?" Suddenly being questioned, Candice decided to take out the booklet and place it on the table. After a brief pause, she said, "I did indeed look into Blue Artifact before. I really like this series of wood carvings with the theme of humans and nature, as they are very dynamic." "Unfortunately, I found out a bit late, and it's challenging to find a complete set in the market now," Candice spoke sincerely. "So, today, I brought this catalog to ask Mr. Clark if it's s

“Where do you even get so many of Rothko paintings? I’ve been hunting for them forever and can barely find a few, yet you seem to have an endless supply!” William complained. Archer’s voice was calm, almost indifferent. “Most of the ones not in private collections or exhibitions are with me.” William: “...?” He didn’t even know Archer had this kind of interest. Wasn’t this a little absurd? “What do you collect them for?” Archer clicked his tongue softly. “To deal with you.”

EPILOGUE The upscale art gallery buzzed with an air of sophisticated excitement. Lush velvet drapes framed the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the crowd. The walls were adorned with Elena’s latest series of paintings, each piece a powerful testament to her artistic evolution and personal journey. The space was filled with admirers, critics, and art enthusiasts, their voices a murmured symphony of praise and curiosity.

Sure, he's abrasive, but I don't think he's that bad. I look at the blank canvas before me. Paints at the ready. I look around my little corner at the beautiful landscapes, the portraits of random people. These pictures are the expressions of my heart. I find comfort in them. My eyes scan the portraits one by one, trying to find inspiration, when my eye travels to a corner I rarely venture to look at.