Seaglass Cottage Novels & Stories

I follow suit and stops next to him. I glance down at myself. The purple sundress I borrowed from Jordan's sister looks perfectly good on me, and I begin to come to a conclusion that this island basically has every fabric and garment that suits every woman in the world. Perhaps I'm being exaggerating but it really does comes close. The cottage looks utterly soothing. Made entirely out of giant timbers with gray windows that minimized views from the outside. He leads me inside the wide cottage and as he does, everyone would genuinely greet him in process.

Unconsciously, I stuffed more of the pasta into my mouth to hide my blush making my mouth look like a small baby whale. The boat started slowing down and I guess that we were nearing the shore of the island. My eyes widened in wonder as they fell on the now clean house. It was huge. Mega huge. And the house was mostly made of glass. It was beautiful, designed neatly and professionally. It looked like a dream house.

I smiled then stood. I walked into the cottage on the beach then got in. The cottage was very dark. It had a bed for two, three chairs with a small wooden table. It had a small television with a wardrobe and three drawers. There was also a door that led to a very small toilet. There were two standing fans and three small windows in the cottage. I sank into the bed. I was too tired and my back ached so much. I was slowly dozing off even though it wasn't intentional.

CHAPTER SEVEN Wanda’s breath caught in her throat as she stepped into the lavish cottage house. The entrance was a breathtaking display of opulence, with tall glass walls that offered a panoramic view of the shimmering Las Vegas skyline. The interior was no less stunning: polished marble floors, modern chandeliers dripping with crystals, and plush furnishings in soft, inviting tones. It was the epitome of luxury, a place designed to impress and indulge.

“Gabriel wouldn’t have sent us here otherwise.” “She could be another ghost.” “She could be the reason we’re still standing.” That silenced him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Coastal Cottage — 10:07 a.m. Perched on the edge of the bluff like it had been forgotten by time, the cottage looked more ruin than refuge. Peeling paint, sagging roof, vines choking the porch rails. Still, the curtain stirred. Juliette froze mid-step. A sensation curled in her gut: part instinct, part blood memory. Something in her bones recognized this place.

The boy encouraged with a smile at his sister and we all turned just as they uncovered the gift to the left. “Wow! This is super amazing. Mum, look at that.” Erica screamed and I could not even utter a word, even though I wanted to tell her I was looking. Really looking at the wonder God just gave me as a partner. With my past, never have I expected to get this lucky. Not with a man anyways. To our left is a beautiful princess cottage. A pink outdoor play cottage that even without touching yet, one would know it’s from the best store in the country. Expensive and highly recommended, it features smooth wood details, an adorable chimney, large beautiful windows and even a working doorbell.

The flight went by very quickly as Gemma and Grant spoke almost non-stop. It was amazing how comfortable she felt with him, and it was as if they had known each other for years. They landed in Canada and there was a big black SUV waiting for them at the airport. It was an hour's drive to the cottage, and they arrived just before dark. The scenery enroute was breathtakingly beautiful. They even saw a few deer next to the road as they drove up to the front of the cottage. The cottage was in the woods with almost nothing close by. It was so beautiful, it looked like it had come straight from of a fairy-tale. Impressively large from the outside, it was a wooden cottage with a high roof and was s

I should have known they knew me, got me, and would make everything all right. Present I pulled my Cavalier into the circular driveway just off of Seasmoke Road, made up of a combination of crushed clam shells and pea gravel. I shut the car off, staring for a moment at the two-story stone cottage with shutters the color of an ocean swell. Flower boxes were attached under the spherical windows, with petunias and pansies poking out for cheer. The roof peaks were curved slightly toward the ground, designed to be a softer composite than the harsh, clean lines of the city homes. A wrap-around porch gleamed bright in the sunlight with a fresh coat of white paint, the matching, wooden rocking chair

"That's more like it. My queen recognising my superior strength." "Your queen recognising your superior stubbornness, more like," I retorted, but there was no heat in it. We made our way through the cottage toward the front door, Theo moving carefully to avoid banging his precious cargo against the doorframes. The cottage sat on a small rise overlooking the sea, with a winding path that led down to a private road where our car waited. Beyond that, steps cut into the cliff face descended to the secluded beach Theo had claimed was ours alone for the duration of our stay.

I said. The cottage sat up on a hill overlooking the harbour. White walled, it was in fairly good condition with a grassy path that led down to the beach. The black rocks around the cliffs had turned orange, crusted with the tiny shells of long-dead sea creatures, stained by the seaweed that rotted all along the shore. We gained access with my skeleton key and found an interior that had been decorated with comfort in mind. It had one bedroom, a kitchen and a lounge. The latter housed a television; a CD player with speakers and a small fax/photocopying machine but surprisingly no landline telephone. On one lounge wall was a large cross-stitched tapestry of John Constable’s The Hay Wain