English Roses Novels & Stories

Havermouth, Five Years Before The new girl smelled like the roses around the river house, Cameron thought. Not the sharp almost artificial stink of modern roses, but the rich, soft, seductive tones of roses whose origins were hundreds of years old, and which had not been interfered with in the human search for the perfectly marketable product, but which retained their original beauty as nature had intended.

She didn't even know white roses had types unless today when she saw the women fighting like nuts. Ashley looked at her in exasperation, "Rose White Parfum De Provence has a golden hue in the core. It will be really in contrast with greenery, sunshine and red oak floor!" She wasn't really bothered if the roses were peach or golden in the core of a wedding the supposed Bride wasn't about to attend. All she was wary about was the neck of the wedding designer, who was bound to snap it with the speed she was turning it from Ashley to Juana.

"Who said it was just an ordinary flower?" Era closed her eyes dramatically. Just as she had suspected, Oscar did not take kindly to having his gift questioned. "Who said there's nothing special about this flower?" Oscar continued, glancing at Era for a moment. Then he confidently pointed to the bouquet. "This is a very special flower. Do you think this is an ordinary rose?" He looked again. "Of course not. This is no ordinary rose, Era. This is a Juliet rose, one of the rarest and most expensive flowers in the world. For your information, it took David Austin 15 years to grow it, and its current price is around four million dollars. So, this flower is not ordinary at all."

A looked crossed his eyes,but it went away as quickly as it came, and soon he was looking at me amused again. "Of course, I didn't anticipate finding raunchy books in a sweet girl's bag, you're definitely right. Noted, I'm never doing that again." I scowled and he smirked. "So Rosie?" He asked, I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes at that, rubbing at my temples. "No, my name's Rosette, not Rosie. That's childish." "Okay, so Rose. Well that's a pretty name for a very pretty girl, as cliché as it sounds, it's the truth, you're a pretty little flower." And the blush that was barely receding was back again.

‘I have, we knew each other since we were fourteen, he always came to my house on this same month and day so no one would notice’. Suddenly the door opened and a beautiful girl with silver hair came in. ‘Alfred are…’ Chevy looked at Nara angrily ‘you didn’t close the fuckin door’ ‘I’m sorry’ Nara apologizes. ‘Alfred are you okay’ ivory asked as she ran to Alfred bed and held his hand tightly with worry in her eyes. Nara looked at ivory, she threw seeds out of her bag, the seeds grew into thorns and rapidly approached ivory with the help of Nara.

As they walked down the corridor, the walls adorned with roses of various hues, including rare Ekwadorian black roses, each accompanied by a note reading "Enjoy your work." The handwritten script exuded elegance, suggesting that the sender was equally refined. As people ahead pressed Mimi for answers, she proudly showcased the gifts but couldn't identify the sender. Observing from a distance, Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling that this flowers display was all too familiar.

She set them on the counter and looked at me with a very specific expression. "Alex," she said. It was not a question. I stood up from the table. The roses were perfect. Long stemmed, fully opened, the exact shade of cream white that sits just one degree warmer than pure white. My stomach turned over slowly and completely. "How did he know?" Elena said from the table. She was looking at the roses the way she might look at something that had crawled in from outside.

she said. Eric leaned back in his seat and laughed. “Nathan’s not as smart as he thinks he is,” he said. “I’m surprised that you haven’t realized that by now!” Crystal: “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Never mind.” Eric reached into the back of the car and retrieved a large bouquet of orange flowers from behind his seat. He handed them to Crystal and said, “Here. These are for you. They’re orange Juliet roses. I ordered them from France.”

Towering trees formed a majestic canopy overhead, their branches reaching towards the sky, while delicate flowers carpeted the ground below in a riot of hues. As they ventured deeper into this enchanting oasis, their senses were captivated by the sweet scent of blooming roses, their petals unfurling like delicate kisses. The vibrant reds, pinks, and whites of the roses stood out against the lush greenery, adding splashes of romance to the scene. Amidst the roses, graceful lilies stood tall, their pure white blossoms exuding elegance and serenity.

Ten years ago, I brought my distant cousin Sofia to New York after finding her cornered by her stepfather's creditors in an old Sicilian port. I taught her English, etiquette, and the laws of our world. I even introduced her to my fiancé, Alessandro Moretti. On the eve of our wedding, I found a secure family thread on my brother's computer—a thread that excluded me. My mother had written, "Sofia is pregnant. Are you really going through with tomorrow's wedding?" Alessandro replied, "The legal marriage is hers. The ceremony and the Moretti name will be Isabella's." That was when I learned they’d already gotten legally married. Our wedding was meant to seal a truce between two Mafia families a