Gnome Table Runners Novels & Stories

The game was far from over, and he was ready for whatever came next. The pieces were moving, and soon, the true battle would begin. ★★★ FERAL FURY PACK ★★★ ★★ LUNA'S CHAMBERS ★★ Luna Loveth sat at the grand table, surrounded by a team of maids and wedding planners. Swatches of fabric, floral arrangements, and sample menus cluttered the space as everyone buzzed with ideas and suggestions. "We need to decide on the final color scheme," one planner insisted, holding up a selection of pastel ribbons.

"Parties are supposed to be different from your everyday life. You always use the fancy stuff, so let's do something different and fun!" Massimo snorted. "That's ridiculous. And even if it wasn't, I own more than one type of table cloth." "Do you have a plastic one in an obnoxiously shiny gold color?" "No." "Then we're using this one," Elena said with a smile. "I'm at least getting us real cutlery, plates, and glasses," Massimo stated, already walking out of the room. "But they'll tear the plastic table runner!" Elena shouted to his retreating form.

And I wondered how many such beautiful Villas were built for him but never used for a permanent stay! I stood beside the table and trailed my fingers on the wood. Down the centre of the table was a runner with Celtic design woven in gold and green into the fabric itself. At the end of the table were floor to ceiling French doors, left slightly opened to let in the scented summer air gush in and brush the faces of the people who enjoyed their meals on the table.

"Oh! Call me Daniela. No need for formalities. We'll be family very soon." Viola forced another eager smile at the woman's statement. Clenching and unclenching her jaw. "Come please. Gino and the others will meet us at the dining room." The dining-room was exquisite. The walls were covered with a shimmering gold paper and in the middle of the ceiling above the carved oak table was a candelabra. Down the center of the table was a runner with Celtic design woven in gold and green into the fabric itself. At the end of the table were floor to ceiling French doors, left slightly ajar to let in the cool evening air.