Shining Lotus Bookstore Novels & Stories

She got up and left. Frances yawned. "Good night mom." She turned off the lamp and shut her eyes. Frances worked as a salesclerk at the Soft View Bookstore, along Huxely Street, Boston. The bookstore was well known, not because it was a large establishment, but due to the style of book display ordered by Mr. Yamato -- nearly half of the books were displayed outside in a heavy show glass. This could be the most reason why each morning of a working day wore Frances out. She just hated everything about the book store.

the letter read. “I spent four hours today arguing with a man who smelled like old goat cheese and gunpowder. I found myself wondering if you were still reading about the Medicis, or if you’d moved on to something less bloody. I found a bookstore in a small village today. It was tucked between a bakery and a butcher shop. I saw a first edition of 'The Shining' and thought of you. Stay in the sun, Little Bird.” I laughed again, a sound that I had not genuinely made in a while .

Lotus blushed a little and smiled at him. “We are getting late, we should get going.” Peter said looking at his watch. “Just give me five minutes I have to use the restroom.” Lotus said and excused herself. She went to the restroom of the restaurant and did her job. Then she went to the basin and washed her hands. She looked at the mirror and opened her bag to touch up her makeup. She applied some lipstick to her lips. When she was satisfied with her look she put everything back to her bag and about to left the rest room. But someone bumped into her and her purse fell on the floor. Lotus bent down and picked her bag then looked at the intruder and it was Sheila. She was smirking at Lotus. Lo

It wasn't until she noticed the strange book tucked away in the corner that she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. "I almost missed one," she whispered. As she walked over to it, she noticed that its cover was worn, and it seemed to emit a faint glow that caught her attention. Maybe it's how the moon perfectly acted as its own spotlight that made it seem so glowy, but it's not just that. She somehow felt a little hint of amusement as she stared at it. As she approached the book, she saw the shinny title written on it, Lunaria, and she couldn't help but be intrigued. The moonlight shining down on the pages illuminated the words in a way that made them seem to come alive.

They drove in comfortable silence with occasional bursts of chatter and after an hour or so, they had finally arrived at their destination. Steve kept shifting his glance, tapping his foot looking every bit as nervous as he felt and Liza couldn't help but find it cute. Their destination was in a secluded part, a little way from the highway but still full of life. People called it 'Literature Lane', which could only be described as a festival of literature. There were huge banners of books and below those banners, people were enacting scenes from books or were reciting them, she also a book discussion group somewhere. The books were from almost all the genres, from classics to contemporary, p

“That’s exactly what I’d pictured: something to let all your amazing beauty shine through.” “If I can find a way to breathe,” I replied, making him laugh. The venue was also near Times Square, a whole floor with brick walls, four fat columns and lots of windows to the street, with room for at least three hundred people. There was a free buffet bar on one side. About six dozen chairs were lined up among the four columns facing the back wall, where a discreet stage with a podium was set for Hugo to gift us with a live reading of some passages of his new book. There were big framed posters of the book cover between the windows, and I was surprised to see the title was simply Shine, no subtitle.

Shaun said as he held my hand to the car. Another five minutes we parked in a small, brick shop with a faded red sign that read ‘Second Chance Bookstore.’ “Here we are,” Shaun said, getting out of the car and when I got out too, he held his hand out for the book. I gave it to him and we went inside.

What I can smell: damp stone, something faintly floral, and underneath both of those, the expensive residue of a perfume that I recognise. “Oh. You are finally awake.” A voice says, making me look up. Lotus is seated across from me on a low chair, as composed and elegant as she was at the gathering on the island. She is wearing deep burgundy tonight, her hair down around her shoulders, and she is looking at me a warm expression. Like she’s genuinely pleased to see a person she likes. She smiles. It is, as always, a beautiful smile. “Where am I?” My voice comes out a bit hoarse.

They were a cacophony of real people—activists, tech-anarchists, and obsessed fans—whose flashlights and camera-phones cut through the dim interior of the bookstore like searchlights in a prison yard. ​Julian Vane IV stood amidst the glass shards, his $2,000 shoes crunching on the remnants of Mia’s "Local Authors" display. He looked at the subpoena notification on his phone, his face pale in the rhythmic blue-and-red strobes of the approaching NYPD cruisers.

I say quickly. Jessica shakes her head. “No, you don’t have to. These are my books.” “Just think of it as a thank you for inviting me,” I reply, handing my card to the cashier before she can protest again. Jessica hesitates for a moment but eventually smiles. “Thanks, Noah.” Rachel doesn’t say anything. After everything is done, we leave the bookstore and walk along the mall corridor. Bright lights reflect off the polished marble floor. The sound of footsteps, conversations from other shoppers, and soft music from nearby stores blend into the busy atmosphere.