English Roses Novels & Stories

He grabbed her and asked, "Why are you running away?" "I'm going to work." She patted his hand and looked around the office. She found that many colleagues were standing by. Some of them even took out their mobile phones to record and didn't intend to stop at all. "Don't worry!" He said with a smile. His blue and beautiful eyes were full of craftiness. He took out a bunch of roses from his back like magic. There should be nine roses in the bunch, all of which were extremely rare black roses. They were blooming, beautiful and charming. Their petals were like black velvet, with crystal dew on them. The fragrance of the flowers was overwhelming.

"White roses? How utterly predictable." Bernice practically snarled in disgust, reaching automatically for the sample book that the wedding planner now thrust across her, “But we want something more classic than this. Olivia, don’t you agree?" Olivia clenched her teeth, hoping to keep her voice steady. White roses are the classic ones. They are elegant and timeless. It just made Bernice raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Timeless, yes; but also boring. We can do so much better. Perhaps orchids or peonies."

And for a breath of a moment, I let myself believe maybe she was listening. Then I opened my eyes. And saw the red rose. It was fresh. Not the kind sold in plastic at street corners, but one cut with intention. The stem was still damp. There was no card—just a single folded note tucked beneath its weight. I didn’t touch it right away. The paper looked old, like it had been handled too many times before. Creased in the middle, stained at one edge. I picked it up carefully, heart already pounding even though I hadn’t read a word.

Is it a coincident? ''With their warm, vibrant tones, orange roses symbolise enthusiasm and desire. If someone is looking for a way to express admiration and attraction—with an underlying message of passion and excitement, they'll send you a bouquet filled with these fiery blooms.'' She breathes out, smiling as she eyes each of the orange roses, ''I haven't seen him for quite some time, I'm not so sure if his interest has changed.'' ''I'm pretty sure they remain the same,'' I reply. She turns to me, ''It's beautiful how your name is Rose. Have you met my son, Elia?''

He had only watched her from behind earlier, so he didn’t realize she was cutting the British Roses. “They smell really nice too. I didn’t know roses could have such a lovely fragrance.” He grew even more panicked when he saw the basket. Not only British Roses, but also Julia Roses, Grasshopper Roses, Madame Caroline Testout, Bourbon Roses, and even Blue Roses. All of those were Mawar’s treasured collection—rare types with very high value. “Aren’t they all super pretty?” Elizabeth smiled while sniffing the rose gently. Doctor John nodded with a stiff smile. Whatever trouble she might get into, he had already decided he would protect her.

Fresh, long-stemmed roses, their velvet petals a deep, crimson hue, adorned the table, exuding a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. Kimberly's gaze roamed the table, her mind racing with wonder. Where did the roses come from? And then, like a whispered secret, she remembered the garden. Had Nicholas really taken the time to pluck flowers just for their dinner? The thought sent a flutter through her chest, and she felt a smile spread across her face, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

Ares clarified. "Ah, I understand, Sir," the saleswoman acknowledged, her initial exuberance giving way to professional composure as she turned her attention to the assortment of blooms. "These white roses would be an impeccable choice," she recommended, prompting my curious eyebrow to arch. "Indeed?" Ares began to say, but before he could finish, I interjected. "Aren't white roses conventionally linked to marriage?" "Absolutely, Miss. White roses embody purity, innocence, and youthful charm. They are indeed fitting for a wedding, as you pointed out. Moreover, they symbolize a fresh start and an enduring love," the saleswoman explained, her smile inviting a measured nod of approval from me.

“You need to relax Bunny,” Osric whispers while putting me on my feet, I am completely speechless at the candles and rose petals. I’m even more surprised that he knows my favorite flowers are red roses and I am addicted to the smell of vanilla. “You did this, how?” I question while looking around feeling Osric’s fingers sliding up the inside of my red blouse. “I know like me, the smell of vanilla drives you wild,” Osric teases while kissing my shoulder as we both stare at Embry.

“Do you like it?” Henry asked Roxanne in a deep husky voice. When Roxanne stepped out of the mall, she gasped at what was in front of her. Henry was perched on the red dazzling Ferrari. It was filled with beautiful, deeply cupped double blossoms which had a vibrant ombre pink to apricot colour. These unique roses stood out and made the car look all the more beautiful. In addition, they emitted an intense sweet fragrance that surrounded the place.

She asked. "It's rose essential oil, extracted from red rose flowers from the Imperial garden, if you love it we could make more for your everyday bath." "Do you only make roses? Are the other types?" "Yes, your highness, the imperial garden has many flowers. Tulips, osmanthus, rose, sunflowers, and hibiscus. All flowers are always available." "I would love to visit there, will you take me?" "Yes, we're your maids, we are assigned to go take you anywhere you want and always be at your service."