Coraline Sketches Novels & Stories

Caroline’s Point of View I’m not looking for it. I swear I’m not. I’m only sorting through old sketches in the back of the shop—stuff I shoved into envelopes months ago when I needed space and didn't want to think. There's a whole pile of them, yellowing papers filled with half-done designs, unpolished ideas, and lists of gemstones that never arrived. Penelope must have reorganized them at some point because everything’s a mess, and not the kind I remember making. I sigh and pull open the largest envelope.

My black lace panties peek out just a bit. Dante’s eyes drop to the skin. He doesn’t say anything, but I see his jaw tighten. “Right here,” I say, tracing the area with my finger. “A vine of roses. Delicate. Maybe three or four flowers curling this way.” He nods slow. “I sketched a few options based on your email. Let me grab them.” He comes back with three stencils. We look together. I pick the prettiest one. Thin vines, soft roses, perfect.

"You smiled." "I made a mistake." Astrid grinned, triumphant. "I'll treasure this moment forever." While the others traded jokes, Lucien found his attention pulled to a wall of framed sketches near the bookshelf. None of them were professionally done—the brushstrokes wandered, the colors had faded in places—but every one held a warmth that made it hard to look away. Rosalie came to stand beside him. "What are they?" "Someone's memories, I think." He studied the nearest one. It showed a family around a table, laughing over a meal. Another caught children chasing the glowing creatures still drifting through the Hearth Quarter. Further along, an elderly couple sat beneath a flowering tree, thei