Booktok Wall Lean Novels & Stories

Every piece of furniture was an antique made of high-quality timber. Anya did not brag too much, but it was clear from her words that she was showing off. She was not very interested in the antique furniture, and what attracted her attention was the large built-in bookshelf on the west wall of the room. The huge bookshelf was filled with books. 'Who reads these? Is it Maxwell or Phoebe?' Corinne asked Anya politely, "May I go over there and read those books?"

"Sure, no problem." Leah obediently nodded. As Colin's figure disappeared around the corner of the staircase, Leah's smile instantly crumbled, revealing a cold and calculating expression. Holy cow, that was a close call. Almost blew my cover. She shoved the comic book into her bag, placing it at the very bottom before finally feeling relieved. The bookstore appeared small from the outside, but the interior space was quite spacious, filled with an abundance of vintage books, particularly focused on technology and astronomy. Leah roamed around downstairs and by the counter, she noticed an old-fashioned piano.

The largest bookshelf I have ever seen occupies the west wall with sprawling dark stained walnut and hand-carved little wolves at the top of either side. There is a large bay window in the center that overlooks a small, rocky pond. The urge to run to the nook and crawl in it with a blanket and just stare at nature for days is overwhelming. But I know better than to assume relaxation is on the list of things for me to do. I run my eyes along the south wall, noting the forest green walls and the stunning water paintings that make the whole thing grand. Opulent splashes of purples and dark blues create the night sky with speckles of gold mimicking the stars. Beautiful in its messiness.

he states, looking around at my walls “They’re kind of hard to miss, don’t you think?” I tell him with a raised brow The entire wall behind my bed, from top to bottom, was bookshelves built into the wall, and they were overstuffed, same with the wall adjacent to that, where my oversized reading chair sat. “I suppose I wasn’t entirely focused on your taste in interior design the last time I was here,” he teases with a grin. “although I didn’t know you read,” he adds in as we enter the bathing chamber, and I begin to pull out the needed supplies.

There where the back of the shelf should have been, was a gap in the wood, curiosity grew, and she glanced at Declan who was at the end of the wall. Don’t do it Layana, she told herself, but like always her inner voice fell on deaf ears, reaching up she felt around feeling just smooth stone and then a small niche in the wall. Ignoring the thoughts of perhaps a spider or creepy-crawly residing there that had entered her mind making her shiver. She tried to feel for it, but she could not reach it. Huffing in annoyance, she moved back and deftly piled a few large books on the ground to make a small stool to stand on. Trying not to cough as the cloud of dust filled her nose.

I said. A dark grey leather couch and love seat were squared off with two light grey recliners. Black steel side tables were in between the love seat and sofa. And there was another one in between the two matching recliners. They have a huge entertainment center with a 70-inch big screen tv bolted into the wall. No wonder their parents wanted bookshelves. The shelves were filled with hundreds of books. The walls were painted a light grey color. It was stunning.

I muttered with a look of awe and admiration. It was like stepping into a fantasy library. The walls were soft-tone red with flecks of black and white. Shelves and shelves of books were neatly arranged in a circular manner. In the center was a little table with an unlit scented candle and two rows of beautiful bookmarks. Three chairs were alongside. There was also a coffee maker in the corner and a soft looking couch.

Two steps that ran the length of the living area lowered whoever walked down them into a carefully laid out entertainment arrangement. Mounted on the left-hand wall was a flat screen television that I almost took for the actual wall with how huge it was. Facing it was a set of neatly spaced recliners along with a long, curved leather couch that looked like a C. Against the right wall were two monstrous bookshelves lined with leather bound novels all meticulously placed in order of volume and edition—my father was many things but a stupid man he was not. I guess I got my love of reading and learning from him; it definitely wasn't my mother—who was more of a trophy wife than anything now that

He was standing in the middle of what I assumed was a lobby area and as I looked around, I saw shelves upon shelves of books. The wall to my right and directly ahead were lined with shelves, the shelves looked like they curled inwards in a Greek key type shape toward the centre of the room. The wall to my left was the giant glass window. In front of this window was a wooden staircase leading up to a viewing gallery of sorts upon which small individual desks had been set. It made sense to make use of what light was present naturally. I bit my lip momentarily, worrying that books and candles do not make good bedfellows. As I slowly span in a circle, I saw the wall behind me, where we’d entered

There was a leather couch in the corner, a bar cart with expensive-looking bottles of whiskey, and a window that overlooked the estate grounds. It was the kind of room that screamed power and control. The kind of room that belonged to a man like Jonathan Hart. I walked over to the bookshelves, running my fingers along the spines. Most of them were business books, biographies of CEOs and politicians, a few on philosophy. Then I noticed something odd. One of the shelves looked… different. Like it didn’t quite sit flush with the wall. I reached out and pressed against it gently. There was a soft click, and the shelf swung inward.