Built In Reading Nooks Novels & Stories

“I don’t want you to be stressed. I don’t want Ollie feeling pushed aside. I want the baby to come into something… steady.” My expression softened. He made so much sense it was hard to argue against that, so I nodded slowly, my smile forming. “What are you picturing?” I asked. “Light walls,” he said thoughtfully. “Nothing too loud. A reading chair in the corner.” “A reading chair?” I raised a brow. “You?” “For you. On late nights,” he said. My throat tightened. “And maybe a low shelf,” he added. “Something Ollie can reach. So it still feels like his space too.”

I took my favorite book off, Her Forbidden Alpha, grabbed my blanket, and sat on my bay of window. When I looked for a flat, the only demand I had was that I need a nook for myself. I saw many apartments, but neither felt cozy. They were built for businessmen or successful women. I wasn't either. I just wanted something that felt homey... In this little town was my last chance. I didn't really hope I would find something. But when I saw it, I knew this little gallery waited for me.

Each baby had a bassinet against the wall and we had moved the lounge furniture to make room for changing tables and a three-piece Victorian vanity for clothes and toys. Everyone put the babies down in their beds, and it was almost painful to take my eyes off them. After they were safely tucked and sleeping soundly, Nora and Gabby remained in the room, Mathilda came in shortly after with a blanket around her shoulders and a book in her hand. She walked over to the rocking chair, made herself comfortable, and started reading. “Yeah, so,” Gabe raised his shoulders to his ears, “ we don’t wanna go,” Gabe said and pursed his lips.

By the time I was done, I had a stack of seven books in my hands. “Now, where is that reading nook I saw?” I mumbled, making my way through the route I had taken. I had spotted a small area, almost hidden from the rest of the library— I wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t paid attention to my surroundings. It was a cosy spot, with a small couch and a table beside it where a standing lamp was. It was the perfect place to hide and read.

"Please, come in. This space belongs to all of you." By mid-morning, the main hall had comfortably settled into its new daily rhythm. In the reading wing, Clara Vance sat on a soft woven rug surrounded by four young children, reading aloud from an illustrated book about harbor lighthouses. The low, rhythmic sound of her voice drifted pleasantly through the high-ceilinged room. At the center of the hall, several local retirees sat around Daniel Hart’s solid oak table, drinking hot coffee from ceramic mugs and quietly reading the morning newspapers.