Novel & Cerita B.a. Paris Books

The next day, Jean-Baptiste picked me up in a vintage car, looking even more handsome in casual clothes. "Ready for real Paris?" he asked. "As ready as I'll ever be." He took me to a bookshop that was part library, part café, part time capsule. Books in French and English covered every surface. Readers sprawled in chairs, sipping coffee and completely absorbed. "This place is magical," I breathed. "Yes. I come here when I need to remember why I love this city." He ordered us coffees. "So, American girl. What brings you to Paris looking so sad?"

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Paris asked, slightly offended. “Yes, you look like a kid,” Merch said, laughing. “Let us go, pretty boy,” Matori said, laughing. Matori left Paris outside the Library, “it is a 24-hour library.” Paris picked up Soraya’s scent, thinking, ‘will she remember me? Has her mind been wiped?’ Paris entered the library and followed the scent that was all over the place but he focused on her human scent and then he saw her, her nose in an ancient-looking book, ‘one would think she has read all the books there are to read by now.’

"Come on, now." They continued walking down the street until they got to an old bookstore. It was small and rustic, and old place that was hardly standing on its own now but it was Rosie's favourite in Paris. She could spend all day scanning the shelves or sitting outside on the little outdoor dining tables with a book in hand. Rosie sat down at one of the tables while Anthony walked across the street to get them some coffee. She opened a new book that had been propped underneath her arm, falling into whatever new universe this book would consume her into.

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"The physical properties of a space communicate on a level beyond words. Children especially respond to these subtle cues." "Exactly." He seemed pleased by my grasp of the concept. "When you return to Paris, you must spend time here. It's quite inspiring." "I look forward to it." At the reception desk, Bernard handed me a small package wrapped in simple brown paper. "A welcome gift," he explained. "Something to remember Paris by until you return." Touched by the gesture, I carefully unwrapped it to find a beautiful leather-bound sketchbook, the cover embossed with the Leblanc & Associates logo and my name in gold lettering.

Presley sighed, “look up the latest release by Perris Brooks.” Paris frowned and started typing it in and then it dawned on Presley that her pen name matched Paris’s real name. “It’s not spelled like your name but I guess it does sound the same. I thought I was clever when I came up with it when I was eighteen.” She smiled tightly as she sipped her wine and then spelled it out. “What am I looking at?” “I wrote that book. Perris Brooks is my pen name.” “Aw, see it’s meant to be. Paris and Perris.” Paris bumped her shoulder playfully.