Novels Restaurant Novels & Stories

Vincent answered. “Whatever,” Camilla mumbled and rolled her eyes. ROYAL RESTAURANTS Royal restaurant is not a big or popular restaurant in the city, but a place known to most people, it is not big or beautiful like other big well known restaurants. Their food was good, and waiters and waitresses were always nice, and luring customers with their pleasant way of talking to people. Inside the restaurant was a woman sitting by the window. She had on sunglasses, she wore a scar that covered her face. A book was on her hand, she flipped from one page to another.

One night together might ruin them both. Chapter One The Man Who Eats Alone The hum of soft jazz floated in the air like heat rising off a simmering skillet. Candles flickered low in shadowed sconces. The restaurant had no name on the door. No phone number. No website. Just coordinates whispered between mouths that knew better than to speak too loudly. It was called Neri—but only among those who’d earned the right to say it.

he snickered, "even the people who just got out of prison after your last visit." "Goodbye, Mason," I ground out, taking my phone and heading back to the kitchen downstairs to get my coffee. By the time I was finished with that little cup of espresso, a reminder for today's brunch was going off on my phone. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I was out the door, heading straight to Nova, a restaurant infamous to New York's corrupted underworld society. People had most meetings there, if not as someone's residence. Not to mention, a lot of women loved to host their lunches at Nova.

—Aiden got all pinkish at the top of his cheekbones—“helped me come up with something you would like.” “Maybe I should go out with him.” “I would strenuously object.” She unwrapped the book and burst out laughing. It was a folio society edition of Rebecca. The restaurant turned out to be a wood cabin built on a traffic island near London Bridge. Inside, it was clean and unfussy, all grown-up shades of brown, and books everywhere—there was even one on their table, a copy of Eros the Bittersweet. And it turned out the whole deal was about telling stories through food. Which she… yeah. Cheesy or not, she loved it.

It was not crowded but there were many people walking around, mostly tourists. In five minutes, Eden reached the restaurant, and the receptionist pointed out her table. The restaurant was beautiful, with rustic walls and white tablecloths on the tables decorated with flowers and silverware. Eden ordered a glass of red wine, crispy fried ravioli with mushrooms for an appetizer, and for the main dish, a medium-rare hanger steak served with caramelized onions and Bagna Cauda pan sauce. Every bit sent fireworks in Eden’s mouth, making her crave another bite. The food was too delicious. Eden washed it down with the leftover wine and headed back to the hotel, hoping to get a good night’s sleep so

I started this new job about three months ago and I've been loving it so far. After fifteen minutes of being on the road, I pulled up to the restaurant that I've been working in ever since I moved here with Christy. The restaurant is a famous one called 'Cynthia' and it's owned by some billionaire. I've never met the man though because he wasn't the one to interview me. I didn't expect him to either, a man of his caliber didn't have time for little ole me.

The innkeeper looked up as Noelle approached. “Morning. Sleep alright?” “Yeah. Thanks,” Noelle said. Mrs. Ellis gave a short nod. “Heading out?” “I need a job,” Noelle replied, adjusting the purse strap. “Can’t stay long without one.” Mrs. Ellis set down her rag. “Try the restaurant down the street. Always busy. Or the bookstore near the square—quiet, good people.” “That helps,” Noelle said. “Thanks.” “Start with breakfast,” Mrs. Ellis said, nodding toward the door. “Bakery next door does real food.”