Books Set In London Novels & Stories

The quiet hum of early morning London was a balm to Isabella Hart's frayed nerves. Far removed from the cold austerity of the Cornwall Retreat, her apartment felt like the last place on earth that still belonged to her. Books lined every wall, their spines softened by use, and the scent of ground coffee and lavender lingered in the air. Familiar. Grounded.

Outside the building, a massive storm began to gather over the London sky, as if nature itself knew that tomorrow, history would be permanently changed by the world's strongest and most dangerous couple. END OF CHAPTER 31..

After that, Zelbert and Gerald decided to separate on me and Eliza so that we could have a real date and we'll meet at the parking lot where we left the car at exactly 6PM. Me and Eliza went to the gift shops, we bought some souvenirs, we took pictures and lastly, we went to British Museum which is her favorite place in London. As expected, I saw Lucius there but luckily, he's busy so he didn't noticed me. She's usually talkative whenever we are at the museum, but this time she just don't want to leave by my side. "I expected you to teach me about the history on this artifacts." I said but she just leaned her head on me.

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

Caitlin and Caleb walked out the enormous arched doors of Westminster Abbey, into the morning light, Ruth at their heels. They both instinctively squinted and raised their hands to the light, and Caitlin was grateful that Caleb had given her the eyedrops before they’d exited. It took her a few moments for her eyes to adjust. Slowly, the world of 1599 London came into focus. Caitlin was amazed. Paris in 1789 had not been all that different from Venice in 1791. But London in 1599 was a world apart. She was shocked at the difference 190 made.

“ Sunday, 10 June 2018 (20:16) Canary Warf, London London, something about the city always drew me in, but never in a million years would I have thought that I’d be living here. The apartment is nice, Ayc seems to like it and we have a wonderful view of the city… It’s not home though, it’ll never be

He would have, right? I shook my head again and concentrated on the book placed on my lap. It was one of the British, historical romance fictions set during the World War Two. I had randomly picked it up at the bookstore and somehow felt myself drawn towards it. Sappy novel with mopey dialogues and dragged out bits, it still provided me with much needed solace.

But the city was too beautiful, its burgeoning lights a silent invitation to contemplation, and the air in the apartment too quiet, too fragile to break with the clumsy weight of my burgeoning curiosity. So instead, I let the silence stretch. Outside, the lights of London blinked like stars pulled down to earth, reflecting in the glassy surface of the Shard and the dark waters of the river. And inside, Adam Lewiston scribbled his signature onto a contract, line after decisive line, as if it cost him nothing. But I was starting to think… Maybe it cost him more than he let on.

She had smiled for him, but the second she stepped outside, the smile disappeared. The office was nothing like Blackwood Tower, and that helped. Lorne Publishing sat inside an old red-brick building near Holborn, with warm lights, bookshelves, plants, and posters of novels on the walls. People walked around in jumpers with coffee cups and papers tucked under their arms. It felt busy, but not cold. For the first time since coming back to London, Elena felt like she might be able to breathe here.

The city lights of London glittered below Liam’s penthouse, a blanket of civilization that should have felt reassuring. Instead, to Amara and Liam, it felt like a stage under which unseen forces were moving, plotting, waiting for the right moment to strike. Every flickering neon sign, every taxi cab’s headlights, even the distant hum of the Underground seemed like a countdown, silent but relentless.