Book In Paris Novels & Stories

[ Ella ] When we landed in Paris, it was already evening, the sun was setting, giving the sky a beautiful fire red colour mixed with dark purple. The air itself felt romantic. He booked a private suite for us but we had separate rooms on opposite sides so I won’t feel uncomfortable. I asked him to take me for a nightlife experience in Paris. The city looked more beautiful than what I saw in T.V. and magazines. Common men and women walking on the streets looked like models out of a fashion magazine.

A young woman with bright red lipstick stops me briefly. “You… you’re…” she hesitates, squinting. Jacques steps in smoothly. “She is expected elsewhere, mademoiselle.” His tone is polite but firm, and he ushers me away before the stranger can speak again. My pulse races. That was too close. Outside, the air hits me; cold, brisk and filled with a scent I can’t place. Something between roasted coffee and rain-soaked stone. Paris. A sleek black car waits at the curb. Jacques opens the door, and I slide in. The seats embrace me like velvet. As we drive, the city unfurls with bridges lit like jewelry, rivers glistening under the moon, buildings older than my kingdom but alive with light.

Her Chosen Mate (Book 3) *** 1. Can't Help Falling in Love (Book 1) 2. Purchased By The Mafia (Book 2) 3. Her Mysterious Lover (Book 3) 4. My Girlfriend is Mafia Queen (Book 4) 5. Loving A Mafia (Book 5)- Upcoming **** 1. Chosen By An Alpha (Stand-Alone) No One POV . A loud wailing could be heard from a child who was crying because of the hunger, but her father, on the other side, was busy in fucking someone else. Tears came out from a four-month-old infant due to suffocation and hunger.

he said. "Thank you, this is our haven from the hands of the enemy," I replied. "You're right. So, I'll let you know if there's a message from Claire," he said and left me. When Heath was gone, I opened my suitcase and took the only book I brought with me. The Name of a Rose, written by the Italian author Umberto Eco. I haven't even finished from the prime. I couldn't face reading it because of too many works in Paris. I turned to the page where I placed the bookmark.

Were all in Paris werewolves? We found a small bookstore, and I quickly pulled Vidar inside. "Come on," I said. "I want to find a book." My anxiety was skyrocketing. Now was the time. We looked around for a moment while I formulated my plan. The store was really cute. It had two floors and was full of all types of books in French and English. There was a lovely old lady behind the counter, helping people with a gentle smile. I turned to Vidar. "Can you help me find a book?" Vidar looked at me.

But she shook her head, "Don't thank me just yet. We still need to hear what he has to say." Later that day, in the evening, when Paris returned home, he found me in the living room, going through books that had storied on the ancient pack and he leveled me with one of his scary gazes, "Should you not be somewhere packing your things?" he asked, and I pressed my lips together, "about that, Paris…" I said, setting the book aside, and he held up his hand, a gesture that so resembled his mothers and I bit my lower lip,

I picked up a book and started reading aloud—not because he asked, but because I knew Vivian used to read him the fashion tabloids. “Stop,” he said after ten minutes. “Why? Don’t you want to know who wore what at the Met?” “Your voice,” he said, his back still turned to me. “It sounds… different.” My blood ran cold. I gripped the book until the pages crinkled. “Different? How?” “Vibrant. Less… bored,” he mused. He finally turned his head toward me. “Did the air in Paris actually give you a soul, or are you just trying harder to lie to me?”

FELIX ------ It had been a week since Paris, Rafael and I had that encounter outside the library. I was so quick to assume Paris was late that I didn’t even try to listen to her. The security guard had to tell me that she was actually an hour and half earlier than I was, I didn’t even notice the clean office, arranged files and the coffee in her hand. I was too busy trying to be rude to her. Later on, I was told there was a camera and a recorder in my office other than the ones we install.

She's taking lessons from her mother. "Mengele" How the fuck do you tell your kid you're not reading her a bedtime story? "What do you want me to read?" Swear to fuck I'm gonna find my balls come tomorrow. That smile grew wider and she hopped down to go to her wall of books. She came back with a fucking tome. I looked at the cover and it did not look like light reading. "The fuwhat is this Gravity's Rainbow?" I read the back cover and got it. World War two Germany. "Catalina go grab a book." Just looking at the first paragraph was enough to make my eyes bleed.

I said, closing the door. “Work that turned you into a bestseller.” I blinked. “You saw that?” He nodded. “It’s everywhere. I bought a copy yesterday.” “You read it?” He smiled faintly. “Half of it. I got to chapter twelve before the jet lag won.” “Jet lag?” I frowned. I didn’t know he recently traveled after everything. “Where were you?” “Paris,” he said simply. “Business. And that’s actually why I came today.” Something in his tone made me straighten. “What do you mean?”