Book Aesthetic Picture Novels & Stories

The screen filled with beautiful images: soft creams and sage greens, blush pinks and deep navy accents, photos of elegant but simple centerpieces, arched floral backdrops, candle arrangements that looked like they belonged in a fairy tale. I shifted so I could sit in his lap properly. My back rested against his chest. His arms came around me, one hand resting on my stomach like it always did now. I scrolled slowly through the options. "I like this one," I said, pointing at a palette of ivory, pale gold, and dusty blue. "It feels calm. Clean. Like us." Maverick kissed the side of my neck. "I like it too. Simple. Elegant. No over-the-top drama."

“He’s surrounded by people who give him answers. I need to be the one who gives him questions.” I spent the next three days buried in my role. I became Aria Vance, art consultant, with a ferocious single- mindedness. I compiled a digital portfolio of pieces I knew would appeal to his stated aesthetic— bold, minimalist sculptures, stark black-and-white photography, hyper-realistic paintings that showcased technical mastery over emotional expression. Everything was sharp, clean, and controlled. But I also slipped in two other pieces. One, a small, haunting

"Okay..." Everyone else rushed forward, some with cameras to capture Rita's beauty. Ever since Rita and Denny had met, they would make a mad rush to record everything whenever Rita showed up. Those photographs had much aesthetic value and also served as important learning materials for them. Denny's perspective of aesthetics, his way of matching everything, and his knack for emphasizing Rita's best features were all worth studying.

"I'd better not interrupt her time this time." Hundreds of kilometers away from where Deric was, Caraline was looking at paintings in an art gallery. The woman bottomlessly scrutinized one by one the beautiful portraits displayed on the walls. The carvings, the details, the color combinations, the gradations, and everything about each work of art, she paid close attention to. According to her, this was one of the best ways to find inspiration for her latest product.

The man scowled in annoyance, glared at me, and then turned to throw his body back on the sofa. Useless man. "So ... how are you going to seduce him? I'm sure a young boss like him is used to being around beautiful women, if you only use your beauty, I think it's useless," Bastian said without looking at me. "Ah, I learned it from a movie, I'll spill my drink on his lap, then stare into his eyes for three seconds, creating an unusual impression, so he'll be curious about me," I replied quickly. After hearing my words, Bastian's brow furrowed, his lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. I don't know what part of my plan made the man react like that.

Serena I sauntered almost aimlessly around the house, going nowhere but enjoying the feel of everywhere at the same time. With one hand placed protectively over my small baby bump, I stretched the other one out to caress a monochrome painting hanging up on the wall. The artwork depicted a serene but dark landscape, a withering tree at its center with gnarled branches stretched toward the sky, its dead leaves shimmering in coated black and silver. Surrounding the tree, rolling hills met a horizon of silver moonlight. It was sad and beautiful but looked out of place in the midst of nothing else but a vast, empty wall. And being drawn to the masterpiece, there was an instant connection.

I stuttered a reply. "Wow! You look very beautiful in person, way more beautiful than you look in your pictures. You even have a nice lip colour," he said, giving me a weird compliment and he winked, making my panic button go off immediately. His weird compliment had triggered an old memory that can only spell trouble for me.

“Sure.” Alec got up and came over to sit beside me. “Okay. Here is my inspo picture.” I moved to the tab with the picture of the g****e image. “I like it. Surprised you are choosing that.” “Why?” “Figured you would go for more like your shop.” “Oh, no. I didn’t want that for my office.” Flipping to the second tab, I showed him the paint and the rug. “Looks good. What about a desk.”

“I am a function of aesthetic efficiency. Your territory has become a noisy subplot. I am here to quiet it down. To make it… readable.” It gestured with its stylus. From its book, a beam of flat, white light shot out and touched our cottage wall. Where it touched, the texture of the wood—the grain, the knots, the subtle variations in color—smoothed out into a featureless, beige plane. It wasn't erased; it was genericized. This was the worst invasion yet. They weren't trying to destroy or control. They were trying to make us boring. “Over my dead, highly specific body,” I snarled, lightning crackling at my fingertips.

He said, still explaining. I nodded. I figured out that much but it was still fascinating to listen to. “Come on, let's go inside.” He said and held out his hand and I took it. We walked in and I felt like I had been transported into the Bridgerton World complete with the massive, looming hallway, the very modern massive living room. Which was decked in gold, and marble here and there. Various antiques and art works lined several parts of the living room. “Peter? I'm definitely going to pass out by the time all this is over.” I murmured breathlessly as I ran my hand over an oddly shaped sculpture piece.