Novelas y relatos de Blossom Street Books In Order

"This is—wow." Zac chuckled softly. "My grandfather was a big reader. He quoted literature as if he were a human book himself." I turned to look at Zac, my eyes lit up. "Zac, this is amazing." Zac shrugged nonchalantly, smiling. "I thought you'd like it." He walked over to one wall, skimming the shelves until he pulled out a book. "I wanted you to have this." I looked at the book he held out for me to take. It was called "Bloom" by Kelle Hampton. I smiled at the title, meeting his eyes. "Wha—but why?"

The first wave rose, impossibly high, gleaming red under the pale morning sun. And through the roar, I thought I heard laughter hers, sharp and broken, blending with the storm. I turned, shouting down the tower, “Sound the alarm! Wake the Luna!” The horns cried again, louder this time. The fortress stirred, wolves howling in unison. The sea had started breathing again. And every breath sounded like war. Clara POV The sea obeyed. It rose slow at first, as if waking from a long dream smooth and deliberate, a creature remembering its own body.

But she was bleeding real, red blood. ​"She’s coming," the girl gasped, clutching Nora’s arm. "The Neighbor... she’s not 'Real' either. She’s the First Draft. And she’s hungry for the 'Ending' you stole." ​From across the hall, the door to Apartment 4B creaked open. A violet light began to spill out into the dingy hallway, and the smell of Oud and Vintage Champagne—the smell of the Billionaire Romance—began to drown out the scent of the London rain.

The morning began like any other in Ashford Hollow. A pale golden sunrise crept slowly over the rooftops, spilling soft light across the quiet streets. The river shimmered gently beyond the trees, and a cool autumn breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves through the town. Inside Willow & Ink, Clara Wilson unlocked the front door at exactly eight o’clock. The bell chimed softly as she stepped inside. She inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of paper, coffee, and polished wood. The bookstore had always felt like a refuge—long before the truth about her past had come to light, long before her brother had returned to her life.

ELLIE Somewhere around the end of the second week, it starts feeling almost like before. Not fully, none of us are pretending it's fully anything, but there are mornings where I come downstairs and Silas is already in Noir's face about whatever meaningless thing he's decided to care about today, and Lorenzo is at the table with a book, and the coffee is already made, and I stand in the doorway and my chest does this small, quiet thing where it loosens. Just a little. Just enough to breathe differently.

I looked at the ceiling. Outside my window the fountain ran and the October night held the house in its dark and somewhere in the east beds the colchicum was doing what it did after the bloom — the slow fade, the preparation for the leaves that came after, the supporting structure arriving after the flowering, the order of things being the order of things regardless of whether it was conventional. Flower first. Leaves after. Still certain. Still standing. I closed my eyes. Six days.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Alley POV: I can not get back to sleep. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand, 2:00AM ugh honestly? Stephen was snoring next to me and the last thing I wanted to do is wake him up. Quietly I slid out of bed and out the door. Closing it gently so that you couldn't even hear it latch, I made my way to the study. Since I can't sleep I guess I'll start trying to piece everything together. When I entered the study I looked around at the books that had been pulled from the library that were left out. The books had covered the desk, the leather couch and half of the floor. I huffed and sat down behind the desk in the big leather chair. I grabbed the first book my eyes met and read the title.

There was still so much she didn’t understand. One morning, as she walked into his office, she noticed the petals again—this time, they were scattered across his desk. The rose petals, glowing softly in the early light, looked almost delicate. She frowned as she brushed them aside, trying to focus on the task. But as she moved the petals, something caught her eye on the shelf behind the desk. A book. It was old, the cover worn with time, and it seemed to call out to her, pulling her attention away from the petals for a moment.

I am trying not to return to the apartment and find them together. “Do we know how Mathius’s meeting went yesterday?” Emmy asks. “From what Dylan told me, it went well. I guess the woman, Nayleen, that he met with was incredibly helpful.” Sapphire answers. So that is the woman's name. Damn, even her name is beautiful as she is. Once again, the apartment is dark, or that is what I thought. Someone left the dimmer light on, making the living room look like something out of a romance novel that Sapphire reads. She is into those fantasy/paranormal romance stories. Has Dylan caught her reading them? Giant hands grab my hips as I touch the switch to turn it off. I scream as I am pulled ba

I stood on the pavement and stared up at the signboard of the shop he’d parked his ride in front of. “The Blossom Blooms,” I read out loud. It was a tiny floral shop wedged between the sporting goods store and the local pharmacy, but it stood out for the gorgeous, colorful blooms on display on the other side of its glass storefront. “You’re here to buy flowers?” I asked. “You like stating the obvious, huh,” he replied. Ollie held the door open for me, and it almost made me forgive him for his last sarcastic comment, almost. The Blossom Blooms interior smelled heavily of roses and magnolias and hyacinths and a few others I didn’t know the names for. This mix of scents was kind of nice and not