Historical Fiction France Novels & Stories

Indeed it seemed Eva had given them strict instructions not to say anything. Sitting there watching the buildings cascade effortlessly before my eyes, I took them in greedily. When I began studying history particularly French history I had always been in awe of the architecture. Unlike other countries in Europe, France embraced the fundamentals offered by Renaissance classicism and took those fundamentals a lot further. It's quite evident the amount of detail paid was done to ensure the buildings were grandiose. I vowed the day I ever got a chance to come to France I would explore all it had to offer. As the city of Paris faded I was at a loss of what to do or say as the car finally came to

Miguel watched her instead of the city. “Paris,” he said softly. “The crossroads of Europe. She turned toward him attentively. “In the Middle Ages,” Miguel continued, gesturing toward the city below, “this was where merchants converged. Grain from the French countryside, wine from Bordeaux, wool from England, spices arriving through Mediterranean ports. The markets fed not just France, but half of Europe.” He smiled. “In a way, Paris was the agricultural bank of the continent long before banking ever existed.” Bobby tilted her head thoughtfully. “So did the farmers and the merchants ruled the city?”

Alana DuChene had been as lovely as always and dressed in the finest gown made of scarlet adorned via silver trim and jewels galore as she approached her water-weary son and limping sickly husband. Alain nearly fell into Casimir's arms as the older lad pulled him into a hug that caught him off balance and smiled realizing that he had kept his promise to his older brother to return in one piece. They had their worries here at home, more so due to the wars going on involving England in the New World against the French and the onset of conflict following the Spanish attempt to invade Portugal. Information was scarce and even more worrisome with Alain and Alfred among the thick of things as host

Over the past two weeks, Jane had found herself thinking of Lucie Manette as Grace Anderson, and every once in a while she was Darnay, but mostly she was Sydney Carton. "This is an excellent book," Jane finished reading. "It teaches you about the French Revolution, which took place in the seventeen-nineties in the country of France. It is a good book if you like history or violence or exciting suspense. It is a love story, too. All in all, it is an excellent book."

But France was at war with England and Paris no longer the playground of the rich. Initially stunned that he would know enough to come close to the truth, Margaret quickly realized the source of his knowledge. A spark of amusement danced in her eyes. She smiled and answered readily, "I assure you we did not run away to Brussels instead of New York." "Oh, I wasn't afraid of that!" retorted Felix, perfectly willing to indulge in plain speaking. "If you'd been I Brussels, I'd have heard of it." "Oh?" Margaret turned a fascinated gaze on him.

“Then I did some digging, found out you had a stalker. I was scared for you. I knew Fred would have wanted me to protect you. I wanted to be close to you. What other way than to pose as your chauffeur? He concluded, avoiding Raven’s gaze. He wasn’t sure on how she was going to take the revelation. There was a moment of silence, Raven rose from the bed, moving close to him. “Before I traveled to the past, you said you had a girlfriend. Is that true?” France took a pause, his expression remained blank. His expression concealed his next words. “I lied,” he muttered sternly. Raven embraced him immediately. She didn’t deserve him. “The corps heard all of Tessa’s confession. I guess your mother wo

“Everything. What’s it like, the history, the people, you know, all the tourist stuff.” “Versailles is a beautiful place. It was the capital of France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. King Louis the fourteenth founded it during the late sixteen hundreds before the French revolution. It’s world renowned for its chateau, the Palace of Versailles and the gardens. If we had enough time, we’d visit all of them.” “Have you been there often?”

She asked in a crafty manner. "Well, My night was great, splendid even. And I would say I came back at the exact time I intended," Francesca said pausing from her novel. She stopped reading the novel, bookmarked and closed it, to turn her attention to Joan "what about you? How did your night go? Did anything eventful happen? Anything I should know about?" Francesca asked, her bright green eyes boring into Joan's amber ones. "Erm... uh... eventful? Uh... what do you mean by eventful?" Joan asked in a stutter as she averted her eyes from her aunt's.

"Yes, this is Paris' very first bar, steeped in history and intrigue. Did you know it originated in 1614 as La Pissote, a humble watering hole for King Louis XIII's coach drivers?" Tyler's eyes widened as Roselyn continued, "These drivers would pause for a quick drink and, ahem, bathroom break before continuing to Palais Royale, the epicenter of royal power and politics." Tyler shook his head, impressed. "How do you know so much about this place, Roselyn? Your knowledge of Parisian history is astounding." Roselyn's laughter was infectious, filling the air with joy. "I've always been fascinated by Paris, its secrets and stories. I've read extensively about its hidden gems, and this city has a

The quick ride in the hired car—because even steady and sure in her heels, she annot walk the streets—is a time for her to calm and center myself. She practiced her ready-to-go speech of her style, design aesthetic, and hopes for her future in the fashion industry. Monica reviews the growing number of French phrases she have learned. In between, she looks around at the sights of Paris, still in disbelief in some ways that she was here, that this is my life after starting out in little old Newton. As the thought of Julien with his mistress passes her brain and makes her feel awful for a bit. If only her mom could see her now! Soon, they come upon the site of tonight’s event, a Seventeenth-Cen