Autumn In Paris Novels & Stories

There were only a couple of other kids that chose to read over the computers. I browsed the bookshelf searching for a book to read, my step-father set fire to all my books in the wheel barrow when he first moved in with us. I picked a book up from the shelf, my father had bought me it before he died, I was surprised to see it in a school library. The Darkest Minds. I found my way over to a comfy seat in the corner of the room. Fishing out my glasses from my bag I made sure no one was looking before I put them on. "Hey." A boy interupted me three chapters in. "I'm Aaron." Peeking up from behind my book I saw a guy staring at me with a huge grin on his face. I had no idea how long he had been

Because if the truth about my life in Paris is the only card left to Amelia, I make a point of getting it out of her and using it to my advantage while laughing at the danger that at any moment Anthony might walk through that door to confront me. But for now, I discard those thoughts, grab my glasses and my sun hat with the urgency of one who needs to be ready for CEO Adam Arnault's big arrival. In the corridors there is no talk of anything else but this spring collection with a touch of autumn in the middle of an "almost summer". And as soon as I feel the sun touch my exposed skin, I have to agree that it is warmer than you would expect in March.

She nodded her head which made the tiny yellow ribbon on her hair, bob slightly. “Yes.” “Okay then,” I flicked my hand and in seconds, River Seine appeared before us. A tiny gasp escapes Rubin and she peered up to me as we trudged down the slope and settled by a nearby tree. Parisians blundered about, getting on with their business while I lay the blankets down by the earth and hand the basket to Rubin who is now seated unto it. I settled next to her and gingerly took some walnut crusted rolls, putting some jam on top and offering it to Rubin who gave me a nervous gaze, shaking her head.

Her Pov: The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around us—soft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress. Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else. He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit.

"See how she's living the life and being a quiet wife. Women should take notes from you, Autumn." Autumn looked disgusted and immediately turned her head to the other side of the crowd, attempting to leave, but Ivan held her wrist, stopping her from exiting. She turned to see Ivan holding her. "They aren't done talking to you," Ivan said, feeling a little ashamed that Autumn was walking out on them. "Well, I'm done listening to them. Let go of me, will you?" Autumn muttered in annoyance, trying to free herself from Ivan's grip. As soon as she freed herself from Ivan's grasp, Autumn bumped into someone, and a sincere apology was immediately offered. She turned to face the person who had colli

She could feel it. Of course, then it started to rain and Leo hurried her off the tarmac so she didn’t catch pneumonia as it was only about forty-five degrees out. Paris was especially lovely in winter, but it came at the price of chilly temperatures and an average of nine days of rain this month alone. Or so Amber had discovered as she looked it up on the ride over. She had also gathered a few ideas of sights around this city she didn’t want to miss. It was the most visited city in the world after all.

He asked teasingly, making her chuckle immediately. "You are impossible." He shrugged after listening to her comment, and they looked up as the Seine kept moving. They passed under ancient stone bridges, Pont Alexandre III, Pont de l’Alma as each arch glowing with soft amber light. Dome roofs, old cathedrals, and grand Parisian buildings seemed to drift by like a dreamscape, quiet and majestic. The city's sounds faded into a gentle murmur, distant laughter, faint music and the soothing hush of water lapping the boat. They both leaned over the railings, pointing out sights while Violet was trying to capture the magic through photos, but the real charm was the feeling. Paris felt alive, romant

‘You seem distracted,’ Fabrizio said. ‘Is something wrong?’ ‘What? Huh? Oh, nothing.’ I shook my head. ‘Either that, or Rue des Barres has lost its charm. We just walked past the Fontaine Stravinsky, and you barely glanced at it.’ I looked around. It really was beautiful. Paris and romance were practically synonyms, and in early spring, the city was absurdly pretty. The chestnut trees lining the street were just starting to leaf, spilling soft green over the cream-coloured façades.

The morning after our Paris interlude, the first notes of a Swiss autumn greeted me through the airplane window—copper leaves drifting past in the sunrise. I rested my head against Jeff’s shoulder as we zipped through customs, our bodies still echoing the warmth of that candlelit night. In my heart, I carried the memory of that dance on the cobblestones—the way the world had fallen away, leaving only us. But real life always crept back. ***

My breath misted out in front of me as I moved, booted heels clopping against the cold interlocked streets of Paris. It was beautiful this time of year, and impossibly cold, too. I shivered slightly against the cold wind that blew again, hugging my tan trench coat around myself even tighter. I thought I heard someone—something familiar, and turned around, my breaths exhaling into the air with a cold imprecise clarity that frosted the air just in front of me. A picturesque view met my eyes.