Coffee & Books Novels & Stories

It was the kind of place where time felt slower, like nothing bad could reach you here. We found a booth in the far corner, next to a window fogged up from the heat inside. I slid in first, propping the book up beside me like it was a friend tagging along. Christian raised a brow. "Seriously, you're bringing that thing into a date with caffeine?" "First of all, it's not a 'thing.' It's history. Insight. Knowledge. Second, this isn't a date." He chuckled as he took the seat opposite me, unzipping his jacket. "You keep telling yourself that, nerd."

I trailed off. He hummed appreciatively. "What's your concept?" "Cozy spaces with fantastic coffee and pastries. Books you can borrow. The kind of place where you spend hours without feeling rushed." "If you ever manage to open one, I’ll send my staff there. We all need caffeine." He made a soft sound of acknowledgment, eyes still closed. I’d finished the photos long ago, but somehow I was still on his back, unintentionally prolonging the conversation. Pathetic.

As I perused the books, I could feel Aidan’s gaze on me. The shop, much like the one downstairs, boasted an impressive selection. These were books to be enjoyed in the coffee lounge, not purchased or taken home. A smile tugged at my lips as I reached the romance novel section. So, Well Thumbed had these too. I wondered if they had hidden gems, perhaps something I hadn’t read or that Uncle Alex’s book club, Bound To Please, hadn’t discovered yet.

For some time, Leah wandered around the shelves, looking at the used book books full of multi-colored spines: some pretty shabby, with wrinkled or even torn corners, others practically new. And there were even ones that had never been opened, with a crunchy sound pleasant to the ear, as soon as she tried to leaf through one of these. “Your coffee,” Yuna announced in a playfully formal tone, lowering a tall glass goblet onto a special wooden stand. — I hope you like the latte?

Aspens POV Eleven months ago People always assume working in a coffee shop means you spend your day drinking overpriced lattes and chatting with customers. They're wrong. Ninety percent of my shift is spent steaming milk, pretending I didn't hear someone ask for a cappuccino with no foam, wiping down tables that somehow become sticky five seconds after I've cleaned them, and wondering whether caffeine should count as a personality trait. Personally, I think it should. Some people have hobbies. I have coffee, books and an unhealthy habit of mentally redesigning small businesses in my head that don't belong to me.

They didn't plan on taking anything to chance. When he entered the small living room, Colton sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him as he sat there reading a book about as thick as Ezra's wrist. Ezra smiled as he made his way over to the coffeepot. Colton always was a heavy reader. "What is it this time? Life of George Washington? The history of automobiles? The philosophy of Bugs Bunny?" He reached up into a cabinet, pulling out the first mug he saw, and filled it with coffee.

I could spend days here with friends and have the adrenaline rush I need from a variety of coffee drinks. The doorbell rings, and a customer waltzes in, interrupting my gossip. “Welcome to Espresso Books,” I chant as she smiles at me, then stares at the menu on our counter. “The usual?” “Yes, Grace,” the lady answers, then goes to hunt for books. Natalie joins me behind the table and picks up a plastic cup to scribble down our customer’s name. I grab the coffee beans and start the process of making a double mocha americano coffee.

Sophia The bookstore café smells like cinnamon buns and strong espresso, the kind of mix that makes you want to linger even if the chairs are uncomfortable. The space hums with a quiet buzz, pages being turned, low conversations, the hiss of milk steaming behind the counter. I arrive first and order a large cappuccino to keep my hands busy, pretending to read the opening chapter of a novel I pulled from the nearest display. My eyes don’t move across the page so much as hover. Every time the door opens, I glance up. Ridiculous. Like a teenager on her first coffee date.

“You know, if you’d like to poison me, I’d recommend starting with the coffee. I’ll never say no to coffee.” Still silent. I leaned back against the chair, letting the robe slide slightly down my shoulder. “You’re not much for conversation, are you?” “Do you require anything else, sir?” she said quietly. “Sir,” I repeated. “Wow. So formal. Makes me feel important.” She started to leave. “Wait.” She froze. “Can I get a few books?” I asked. “Preferably something that doesn’t end in tragedy. Unless it’s about rich men falling in love with charming, kidnapped strangers. I hear that genre’s hot right now.”

I run down the stairs before taking a look around. I shudder in revulsion before running out of the house. Today I'll only be working at the cafe. It's a cute cafe. They mostly sell coffee and pastries but there's a section for books. There are books you can even borrow to read. It was honestly so beautiful,homey and cozy. I fell in love with it at first sight. I entered the cafe to see people already there. I hurried to the backroom to get ready for my shift and deposit my things. I saw my co-worker there.