Classic Historical Fiction Books Novels & Stories

They were, after all, close friends. "I would be happy if you do that. I mean I only live in this place with my brother, who, you already know about his condition and the maids, whom I can't share many things with. Having a friend over sounds good to me." After touring the place for one hour straight they rested on the lounge on the ground floor of the library. The beige seating with golden lining matched the room perfectly. The wooden vintage long coffee table was put i the middle and there were some flower arrangements in the middle. It made the room looked more alive. She had picked up a book title which interested her. It was a classic vintage book made in the late nineteenth century. It

Her back and joints were stiff, her eyes were hurting from the non-stop reading, and she had already sneezed way too many times from the dust. The book she was reading now was a huge, oversized volume with thick leather binding, cracked along the spine. It probably weighed ten pounds, and was at least twelve inches wide and long. She had it opened to the middle of the book, and each page she turned crackled with age. The pages were thick, so much thicker than those of modern books, and yellow with age. It was a physically gorgeous volume, published in 1661, interspersed with hand-drawn illustrations, some of them in color. Caitlin turned the pages with the utmost care as she went, not wantin

I ignored them and walked on by. Turning the corner, I strode to the library’s double doors across from the staircase without running into another soul. I was in desperate need of distraction. Books to the rescue. The library flared to life as I entered. Wall sconces lit, and the hearth awoke. I replaced the books I’d borrowed to their empty spots, then moved to a different section. Scanning the titles, I found and pulled out a couple of classics I’d been meaning to read forever. The first was The Three Musketeers, and the other was Pride and Prejudice. I hoped at least one of them held my attention enough to get lost in.

In the center of the room stood an imposing mahogany desk with a leather chair. In front of it was a large black chaise longue resting on a round white rug. The atmosphere was luxurious yet discreet. Magnificent. I spent several minutes simply admiring the most beautiful room I had ever entered. Then I slowly walked along the shelves, stopping when I reached Historical Romance. Romance novels were what had brought me this far as a virgin. They were my Achilles’ heel, and there was nothing I could do about it. I picked up my cliché: Pride and Prejudice.