London Book Review Magazine Romane & Geschichten

"I suppose no place in London is truly safe, which is why no woman should walk the streets alone, especially in the evening." Her gaze grew distant for a moment. "It is a mistake I will not make again." Then she looked down at her book. "Next question, my lord." Well, he'd tried. Perhaps a more circuitous route was required to win her trust. "What book are you reading?" He nodded at the tome she'd set aside. "Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations." "Truly?" He blinked at her. Most men he knew couldn't finish that book, and he'd never given much thought to whether a woman would read it. Not that he didn't think a woman could manage it, just that it was so bloody boring

London baby, I have arrived! As Edmund and I sit in the back of the chauffeur driven car, my face is plastered to the window as I take in this new city that is now my home. There's so much to take in: it's incredible how one place can have so much vibrancy, multiculturalism, and a cosmopolitan edge all at once: the sky scraper buildings, glamourous clothes shops filling the high streets, the internationally renowned restaurants, the parks, the double deckers, the black cabs. And then there's the history: Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, the London Eye, 10 Downing Street, the Tower Bridge, the Great Fire, Barbican Arts Gallery. This city is truly a perfect blending

The library review came out in November. Not the architectural press review — that had come in the spring, the threshold as held breath language having been picked up and distributed through the professional publications. This was a different kind of review: a feature in the city's cultural magazine, the kind of piece that was written not for architects but for the people who used the buildings, the account of the library as a lived experience rather than a designed object.

She had smiled for him, but the second she stepped outside, the smile disappeared. The office was nothing like Blackwood Tower, and that helped. Lorne Publishing sat inside an old red-brick building near Holborn, with warm lights, bookshelves, plants, and posters of novels on the walls. People walked around in jumpers with coffee cups and papers tucked under their arms. It felt busy, but not cold. For the first time since coming back to London, Elena felt like she might be able to breathe here.

“ Sunday, 10 June 2018 (20:16) Canary Warf, London London, something about the city always drew me in, but never in a million years would I have thought that I’d be living here. The apartment is nice, Ayc seems to like it and we have a wonderful view of the city… It’s not home though, it’ll never be

It was a little fast for Knight’s liking, but it was strong. “I’m really psyched to start this article on the wolf hotels. I got an email earlier from Leslie. It’s cool that you’re letting me delve a little deeper than usual,” Sue said. The sun was low in the sky but still hours away from setting for the evening. The blue canvas was awash with a golden glow that glinted off the windows of the tall buildings around them. “What does that mean? Deeper than usual?” “You know. Magazines like yours aren’t exactly known for looking at important issues. It’s all about what clothes are in and what celebrity has been caught cheating.”

“I expected you to arrive later in the evening.” “I managed to talk Javier into buying me lunch,” London said, pulling down her skimpy sweater. The jeans she was wearing were far too tight, but her slender body had an aggressively sensual sway as she sauntered to the door. “See you, Javier,” she said, waving as she departed. Javier leaned back against his desk, eyeing his secretary with curiosity. “It is a pity truly that all our talents are not as easy to handle as London.” “Yet you manage to handle most of them,” answered Ella pointedly.

Zane grinned, stuffing the spent monster back in his pants. “Same to you, daddy,” London winked, wiping down the shiny jeweled toy and putting it back on the shelf. London may have been known as a high riding bitch of the publishing world, but being a bitch was who she was, it was the fiber of her being and the core of her soul. This bossy bitch knew how to get what she wanted, and more importantly how to keep it.

“Since you’re back, are you going to pick the next book?” I blinked. “Me?” “Of course,” she said, smiling. “You’ve been gone. You deserve the honor.” Everyone nodded expectantly. I looked down at the stack of books on the table, my fingers brushing across their covers. My hand paused on a novel about love, identity and societal expectations. This book will give them a glimpse of what I passed through during my absence. I smiled softly. “How about this one?” Brent groaned. “Oh no, not another depressing tragedy. Can’t we read something with a hopeful romance?”

The last thing I needed was to read her book and absorb yet another piece of her. Back to the present, I had been doing so well with not thinking about her. But I should have realized from the first time that London walked into that restaurant and said yes to me, that the fates were out for me. It wasn’t unusual for magazines to do interviews about me. In fact, as evidenced by the Not Yet Forty magazine, London had made such a fuss about, it was pretty normal. I hadn’t still gotten around to getting myself a new secretary, so Harper was still in charge of my schedules and meetings. She had informed me of a magazine that wanted to do a page on me, splash my face on the cover of it and all. I