The Little Paris Bookshop Novels & Stories

Long dark hair still looked decent in its loose bun, lipstick mostly intact, and my white blouse was still crisp even after fourteen hours of work. The private executive elevator took me straight to the top floor. When the doors opened, the lights in the hallway were dimmed, giving everything a soft, intimate glow. My heels clicked loudly against the marble as I walked toward the double doors of his suite. They were already open, waiting for me. “Come in, Isabella.” His voice was low, smooth, and carried that natural command that made my stomach tighten every single time. I stepped inside. Damien Cross stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the sparkling city lights below.

the tourist commented. Dmitri smiled and replied with a nod, "Yes, it is. If you are looking for a quintessentially Parisian experience, then it is hard to outdo this Book Café which effortlessly bridges old and new," he answered. “You seem new here. How did you notice about this quiet place ?” he asked intrigued. "I read about it in the tourist guide," his companion replied. "It was one of the hotspots on the list, which seems to be a favourite hangout spot for some of the town's most respected luminaries, artists, and intellectuals for over a century."

Now she’s bouncing around, excited to get books. What’s going on? “Where is this bookstore, anyway?” I ask as I look around. “I didn’t think there was one around here. Why not Waterstones?” “They’re expensive. Besides, I like the smaller bookstores.” “Since when?” Regina huffs. “Since always. Keep up, Dad.” We turn a corner, and she points. “There it is! I knew it would be here!” I see a smart-looking shop between a hairdressing salon and a quaint-looking café across the street. Its bright red front is hard to miss, along with ‘The Little Red Bookshop’ printed in gold above the door.

I said with a smile. "Loulou here runs the bookstore in town, the littles like to go there for story time." I raise my eyebrows in surprise that they do this in places other than their homes and here. As if reading my mind, Ivan chuckles and says. "There is a big group of littles in this city, they all have their daily jobs, and they always have shut-ins in their shops every so often to get to know one another better. You should bring Violetta down to one of the shut-ins to meet the other littles, or here. The shut-ins are a little less intense, and there are only normally a few of them at a time." "I really like that name, it sounds so pretty," Loulou says, and I smile. She reminds me a lit

7 Years Later "Aahhhhhh!" Her immense shrill echoes through the wave of those empty chairs and tables making you cringe from annoyance. Luckily the first customer of the day decides to shut her up by entering the doors of the place and you sigh in relief, internally thanking whoever it was before resuming back to mopping the last section of the shop. Lisa allows the item to slip off her finger tips and smack the tiles of the floor before assisting you savior of the day. "What can I get for you, sir?"

He smiled, and we went walking. The place was located between a flower shop and an old record store. It smelled like roasted beans and warm bread. He ordered us a pair of cappuccinos, and I nibbled at a piece of toast slathered with pear and honey. As I did my best to ignore the queasiness haunting me underneath. “So,” Adrian said, prodding his drink with the straw. “What brings you to Paris?” I hesitated. I hadn’t told him very much other than I was taking a break from home. I couldn't bring myself to say his name, Cassian, out loud again. That page was turned, even if the pain lingered.

The night passes uneventfully with both of us retreating to separate rooms and me spending too much time perched beside the window staring at the tower and wondering how things could have gone differently. Morning comes and even as the allure of being in Paris makes my heart sing, I quickly remember Vincent sleeps a room away. Through a stilted conversation and quick walk through the shops close to the hotel, Vincent finds a small café on a side street not swarming with tourists. The building is old, built before the formation of the United States Government. There's exposed brick on both sides and the space runs long and narrow. As if they'd built it in the extra space between the buildings

“That reminds me. I also want to get some books at the library” “Are you indirectly asking us to go together” I teased. He didn’t reply me, rather he continued eating. I scoffed. “Still a jerk” **************** TWO HOURS LATER... At the library.... “You are going to read that?” I asked with my eyes widened at the book Hayden selected from the shelf. “And what’s wrong with the book?” He asked. “Business plans blah blah...Argh!, I would probably doze off at the second page and that has like 400 pages?!”

The crunch, the explosion of flavours and herbs, the freshness is sublime. Afterwards, we grab a coffee to go and keep exploring the rest of Le Marais. He takes me to Place des Vosges, a lovely preserved square. There's so much life, energy, and history entrenched here. I cannot get enough of window shopping all the boutiques and small specialty shops selling just about everything I can think of. I love Paris and if I'm to be honest, I'm glad to be exploring it with Tristan. Even though he's been keeping a respectable distance from me, he always walks slightly behind with a hand close behind my back, and I feel safe in his presence. Okay, I'll admit it. I want to be with him. I like being wi

"Okay, so as per Aurora's insistence, we're reading Madeline," "Everyone ready?" He inquired, looking at all four kids to see if they were comfortable before he flipped open the book. "In an old house in Paris, that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines..." He read as the children – and the dogs – listened intently. No soon had been a quarter way through the book, did the children fall asleep and had him drowsy. His words grew slurred and his eyes heavy before they dropped to a close.