Books Spring Novels & Stories

Sutburg was filled with flowers in spring, petals flying toward us in the wind, pink, white, and many other colors. Some flowers landed on my shoulder, and I thought to myself that I had made it through winter. And finally, my spring was here.

Spring comes to Barcelona in March for the twenty-seventh time in its second life. She counts them now, occasionally — not with nostalgia or sentimentality but with the arithmetic attention of someone who has been paying attention to the seasons long enough to understand that each one is distinct. The twenty-seventh spring is distinct from the twenty-sixth in the way that all the springs have been distinct from each other: the jasmine at a slightly different time, the plane trees returning in their own order, the specific quality of the light that is the same every year and is never quite the same.

Philip offered a small smile, nonchalantly moving on. "The bill, please." When they stepped outside, Jane said carefully, "Mr. Dillon, that day when you gave me the wedding dress, I noticed Ms. Brock didn't look very happy. She seemed to really like the first one. Now that I have a new one, maybe you should—" "No need." Philip took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke partially hiding his face. Only his voice cut through the cold wind and reached my ears.

His fingers clenched the papers so tightly, his heart felt like it was being crushed. Five years... For five long years, he had concealed his profound love for Rebecca. ... I was in a foreign land, armed with a bank card Tracy had given me, and I opened a little shop near a school. I set it up and launched a quaint, aromatic dessert cafe. Seeing the teens that came and went each day brought me real joy. Sweet treats really could lift the spirits. One day, as I was serving up desserts, a high school girl leaned in close and whispered, "I think there's a guy who's got a crush on you. He's been skulking around your shop a bunch of times but never comes in.

"Fiona, N-Noah was just concerned. Adele is pregnant, just let her have her way more." "Jonah might have just passed away, but you're still a part of our family. Don't even bring up going back home to your parents anymore." I know why they would say that. They couldn't bear to part with my three briefcases full of cash from my wedding gifts and my five amazing brothers. It brought them pride to be able to boast about my brothers. Besides, my brothers doted on me completely. They were the ones who came up with the wedding gifts for me.

His words ripped my heart open like a sharp blade, leaving me embarrassed. They were about to come out, so I quickly hid in the fire escape. After everyone left, I retrieved the crochet bouquet from the trash can. Greyson, who suddenly returned, bumped into me. A look of awkwardness appeared in his eyes. "Nicola, I forgot to take the flowers." I dodged his outstretched hand. "The bouquet you have is fine. You don't need this one." My gaze fell on the red roses in his arms. He was taken aback, followed by annoyance at being exposed. "Why are you making a fuss? I told you I left them behind! And these red roses are much prettier than your stupid flower! Elise is prettier than you and better th

Her hand wandered under Adrian's shirt, tracing hot, eager circles down his chest, her touch bold and full of heat: nothing like her innocent, fresh-faced look. In the shadowy, suggestive light, with the heady scent filling the air and Yvette's relentless teasing, Adrian's desire flared. He scooped her up and headed for the bedroom with determined steps. Adrian stepped into the bedroom, his eyes landing on the bed covered in a sea of bright red rose petals, a romantic gesture from Yvette. However, instead of feeling touched, a chilling memory flashed through his mind: a bedsheet discarded in the trash, stained with blood in patterns that reminded him of plum blossoms. It brought back the pro

Ivy said. "It's impressive that you're able to negotiate the timeline for the project but please remember that I still cannot guarantee the success of the third book, which by the way doesn't have a solid plot as of today. I'm stuck in the planning stage. I keep going back to the drawing board. I just don't know what to write this time," Cela said. "Well, there's still plenty of time. Let's not give up this early yet," Ivy said. "And why does it have to be a Valentine's special in February when there are so many networks airing the same thing? Why don't you suggest that they make it a summer's special instead. Doesn't anyone believe in summer love anymore?" Cela said.

Cassandra sat quietly by the window of the small coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans mingling with the crisp pages of the book in her hands. Outside, spring was in full bloom—leaves shimmered in the sunlight, and the occasional breeze stirred the ivy growing up the side of the building. Her book, a worn paperback about native plant life and ecosystems, was one she had read before, but she always returned to it like an old friend.