Gourmet Coffee Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

He chuckled as he handed me the next muffin. "I need coffee to wash this deliciousness down. What's this one?" I asked as I waved him back toward my room. "That is a coffee carrot crumble muffin. Same crunchy effect as the apple one, but with coffee instead of cinnamon and as you can see it's a carrot cake based muffin." He told me as I opened my door so we could go inside. "Seriously dude? You're not gonna share with the rest of us?" Jared Malcolm, the Alpha in the room to my left said as I held the door open for Eddie.

I couldn't wait to read my new books and maybe even see my witch friend again. I walked into the coffee shop, and a mouthwatering scent filled my nose. I didn't have words to describe it, nymph food was exclusively derived from the forest and something told me there was little to nothing here that could be found near my tree. Glass cases were filled with little treats and morsels, my mouth popped open at the sheer number of them.

And he was very pleased to notice that Eugene liked that coffee. After confirming that Eugene was drinking the coffee, Jerry walked toward the inside of the store. With each step, he evenly arranged the display cases on both sides. Wherever he passed, there was the sound of candy wrappers rustling. Eugene watched the back of the nineteen-year-old Mafia aspirant for a moment before turning his attention back to his book. The evening sunlight penetrating through the glass window poured over the pages. Eugene's gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle of a page. For dozens of minutes, he hadn't progressed past a single sentence. Though the text was clearly registering in his eyes, it wasn't being

I assured her. “I hope you’re not planning to do something stupid” Christine replied as she continued with washing the dishes. It was now night time… Sophie and Johnny had gone back home and Christine was back in her room. I checked if every door was locked then I went straight to my room, jumped on the bed then started going through the counselor’s emails. At the biggening of those many emails there were no suspicious messages. I scrolled for an hour until I came across an email that was written “The coffee shop.” I clicked on the email and read the first line there and it shocked me when I saw that this coffee was the one that I actually knew. The one next to the book store, it was stupid

"Larry, I have days off too. I'm, um, off-duty." "It's just a coffee." I hold up palms. "I promise you my intentions are strictly honourable." Her mouth quirks. "In that case, yes, thank you. I'd love a coffee." She turns to the counter. "I'll take this as well please, Cliff." A gnome of a man wraps the book in a creased brown-paper bag. I squint a look at the title. Nothing to Declare: Memoirs of a Woman Traveling Alone.

I am, quite predictably, exhausted at the Alpha's mansion the next day. Fortunately, there's a lovely little staff kitchen on the same floor as my office, and it's always stocked with very good, very strong imported coffee. I lean back in the leather chair behind my desk, sighing gratefully as I inhale the rich aroma of hazelnut wafting up from my third cup of the day. Man, this coffee is delicious. I think they have it specially flown in from some fancy little cafe in Paris, Claire said.

Betty filled my coffee cup. I wiped a crusty cluster of sediment from the corner of my eyes and mumbled, "Thank you." She gave me a sad smile and shuffled back into the stacks. I groaned, sipping coffee the consistency of motor oil. Time to get back to work. I sure as hell wasn't going to leave it alone. Not when I was so close to the answers I wanted. Fire brewed in my belly. I picked up the book in front of me. A demonology book. The history of incubi.

expensive. This perfume can buy his entire café ten freaking times. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bottle. Okay, Alina. Let’s think. Yes, he used to be in the mafia. But now? He claims he’s out, just living a quiet life running a little coffee shop to “keep from going back into the cruel world.” Bullshit! He’s lying. I looked around the room again, whispering under my breath. “There’s no way a man runs a modest café can afford this unless—”

after sleeping. Gross. “Are you ready Alex? I saw a coffee shop next door; I can grab us some coffees while you finish dressing.” “Yeah, sound’s great. Thanks babe. There’s some change in my wallet, I’ll buy them. Will you get me some food too? I’m starving.” “Sure. Won’t be long.” I grabbed my purse and closed the door behind me. I ran down the stairs, checking my phone for the time. I still had a few minutes before Peter would be here, I had time to run in the coffee shop. I opened the door and smelt the beautiful scent of crushed coffee beans and French pastries. My stomach growled in protest of being starved. I was as hungry as Alex. I ordered a few coffees for us, extra shot of caffein

I wish I visited him and Grandma more often when I had the time. And one thing that couldn’t fade from my mind was the text message I received from an unknown number whom sent me a puzzle scenario. What kind of treasure was he talking about? He just burned my grandparents’ coffee shop and the mystique island. The Strawberry’s Coffee Shop made my grandparents wealthy that people from other countries visit the Rue City just to experience tasting the coffee and buying books of my Grandma as souvenirs. Some malls around the globe even asked my grandparents to franchise the Strawberry’s Coffee Shop and even though my grandparents says no to them because the coffee shop made the Rue City whole, t