The Little Paris Bookshop Novels & Stories

I played around with it before heading to bed, my heart full from my wonderful birthday weekend. On Monday, Sasha’s birthday present had arrived in the mail and was sitting on my bed when I got home from university. I was a little disappointed that Sasha wasn’t my birthday present. I tore open the package and found a book and a small box. The book was one I had looked at when Sasha had brought me to Shakespeare and Company in Paris. He had offered to buy it for me then, but I had refused. He had obviously gone back to the store to buy it later because this book was stamped with the Shakespear and Company logo, and had the company blotter spritzed with perfume tucked into its pages. A little

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He released my neck before lifting my two hands above my head and capturing them in one hand, rendering me completely helpless before tugging my jaw upwards with his free hand. "Oh Snow, you don't know what you do to me." I shivered at those whispered words just as he finally covered my lips with his, trapping my husky moans in. Excerpt from; His Little Snow [18+] ©Josephine. C. Ivy

After her self-imposed night of no orgasms, Amberleigh allowed Leo to make up for it the next day. Twelve times to be exact, including two unplanned pit stops back to the hotel during the day as they saw the sights of Paris. Feasted on delicious Crepes from a street vendor. Crammed in a bit of shopping in the beautiful Galleries Lafayette department store. It had the most amazing stained glass domed ceiling and golden balconies. It was by far the most gorgeous store Amber had ever set foot in her life.

Alright," Octavia nodded not knowing what was June fuzz about her wanting to get some good clothes but she trusted that June would do anything in her best interest and not get her into trouble. "Shall we?" June asked heading out of the boutique as Octavia followed behind, they walked down the street into the other boutique close by. Octavia walked into the boutique looking around as a lot of ladies were going through the racks picking different clothes, she had never entered this boutique before because their clothes were not the latest designs, in fact, they were mostly thrift wear and old designs. She found herself a chair close by and took her seat realizing that no one was going to come

if i explain in a sentence then the worst and biggest psycho after my father and if i explain in a word then sister "are you going to stand there or move along with me?" "Weren't you in Paris Celine?" i turned around "I came back to get married" She still had the pistol aimed at me "For God sake Celine. we are siblings" Yes we are blood siblings but our father wants us to get married because he wants to keep the wealth within the family. What a pathetic and gross reason "As if you believe in God Kristopher"

We needed all the evidence we could get against Mr Ranault even if it means coming to see a stranger alone in a library. The library had another floor for history and science while the bottom floor was for kids books and pretty much basic stuff. I searched around the ground floor of the library but there was only two teenagers,some women and two nerdy collage guys. There is no way any of these people had that manly voice I heard on the phone last night. Just as I was about to go upstairs,I saw a man seating in one of the chairs with a book in his hands titled: A little life. The man had brown skin like dark chocolate. He pulled the book down a little to be able to peep his eyes out and look

He seemed to be a long-term resident of the city because he knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what street to take without looking at his phone for guidance. “How long have you lived in Paris?” “All my life. You?” “Same.” That was the extent of our conversation. We passed Loup on the corner and walked down the path where the restaurants were located beneath my apartment. There was a small road for cars, but only taxis pulled up to the area. Right now, it was deserted, all the restaurants closed except for Au Pied de Cochon.

"That's just what a gentleman does." I curled into the far corner of the backseat, small and out of place. I kept still, listening as they traded stories that belonged only to them—from a snowy night in Sirelia to the sunrise over Mount Astrelle. I wasn't part of any of it. Streetlights streamed past the window, one after another, like splashes of whiskey. My eyes drifted to the two bottles Tristan had set on the seat. Our first date had been in a whiskey bar. I remembered him ordering the fiercest malt they had, sliding the glass toward me with a single push, his gaze shadowed and intense.

"Ah, perfect. You are on the perfect street. Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré has many beautiful boutiques. Hermès is just down the street, and there is a wonderful small bookshop called Galignani that has been here since 1520." A bookshop from 1520. Casual. "That sounds perfect. Thank you." "Shall I arrange a car?" "I'd rather walk, if that's okay." Céline looked delighted. "Mais oui, of course! Walking is the best way to see Paris. Here, I will give you a small map."