The Little Paris Bookshop Novels & Stories

The sign above the front door reads 'Shakespeare and Company' "It's one of the most famous bookstores in France, it's been open for nearly a hundred years and a lot of writers have passed through it and been inspired by it. I thought you might like it" Rhodes explains as we stand at the threshold of the store. I drag my eyes away from the facade to look up at him as he peers down nervously at me. Quickly I stand up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, threading them through his hair and tugging him downwards to mine. He listens when I think he's not listening, he takes an interest in the things I'm passionate about and takes it upon himself to find things that will make me happy. My heart

I didn’t know whether to interrupt it. “Should we go out today?” I asked gently. “Just you and me. No headlines. No war rooms.” He looked up, blinking slowly like I’d pulled him from the deepest cave of thought. “Out?” “A bookstore. A walk. Parisian pastry theft from that overpriced corner café down the street.” He huffed a small laugh. “You and your sugar crimes.” I smiled, but I didn’t miss how that flicker of joy vanished just as fast. His eyes returned to the papers. His body, still half-present.

I glanced around. The bookshop was small but cosy, with shelves packed tightly together, creating narrow aisles. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of vanilla candles burning near the register. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath my steps, and a warm, yellow light bathed the space, casting long shadows between the shelves. Books of all sizes and colours lined every inch of the walls, some nearly arranged, others stacked haphazardly on tables. A few framed pictures and handwritten notes were pinned to a corkboard behind the counter, adding to the shop's quaint charm. It felt timeless, like a place untouched by the chaos outside.

Above the door, the elegant new sign read ‘Petit Paris’ in curling script. Inside, the massive chandelier Warren had given me glittered in the morning light, scattering ethereal, rainbow-colored patterns everywhere. After his team's renovations, it looked even better than before. I couldn’t help the flicker of excitement when I imagined him seeing it in person for the first time. With the arched mirrors, soft gold accents and delicate bistro tables, the whole space radiated that Parisian charm I had dreamed of. Everything was perfect. At 8 am sharp, with trembling hands, I flipped the sign on the door from closed to open.

“There are a few volumes in the world so important that their existence is not public knowledge. These are passed down through generations, held by a network of rare occult bookkeepers. These are volumes they don’t want the public to get a hold of, volumes they would never admit they had. I doubt any library or university would have one. And I doubt any rare bookshop would have any edition officially on record. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have it. You would just need to come to them with the right credentials.” “So are you saying that the other copy definitely exists?” she asked, her heart beating. “I’m not saying there is—I’m saying there is a chance. And if anyone has it, it would be

I had stopped noticing. — "Get out." Nikolai's voice pulled me back. The car had stopped. I hadn't even felt us slow down. I blinked. Noah was already sitting up beside me, peering out the window with interest. I looked out and saw a building. Modern, tall, the kind that had a doorman and a lobby with marble floors and a silence about it that money bought. The kind people lived in when they didn't need to think about what things cost.. I got out slowly. Noah slid out after me and immediately pressed himself to my side, looking up at the building with wide eyes.

Paris, for me, was just the same as New York. A well-known place that most people dream of going to. But for me, they are just a place. I don’t even know what these people see in these places to make them say that they love it. I know that Ems didn’t ask me to bring her anything, but I just can’t help it. Seeing a small bookshop, I decided to go in and see if there was anything that Ems liked. I checked the shelves to see if there was any particular book that might make her happy, but came out with nothing.

The midwife I had secretly brought in barely glanced at my newborn before her medical tools scattered with a crash across the floor. Her eyes rolled back, and she slumped to the ground, out cold. An eerie silence filled the room, broken only by the soft, wet sounds of the three little ones on the bed, whimpering in my ears. "Ow... Ow..." Their cries were faint but hit me like a sledgehammer. Puppies? That could not be right. How utterly bizarre!

I read the message three times, my heart picking up speed with each pass. "Noah. Noah, look at this." He read over my shoulder, and I watched his eyebrows lift. "Galeries Lumière. That's not a small player, Jasmine. That's one of the most prestigious department stores in Paris." "I know who they are," I said, my voice unsteady with disbelief. "I used to cut out their catalog pages when I was in design school. I had a whole binder of their window displays taped to my dorm wall."

He chose the destination since I didn't have anywhere in mind and after some weeks, we arrived in Paris, the most beautiful and romantic city in the world. I felt privileged and I was hoping to be productive during my stay there but on the first day, I was still sleeping. And Levi wouldn't let me rest. He was always buzzing my ears with loud words and it annoyed me. I had to cover my ears with the pillow before I could sleep. The next time he entered my room, he peeled the duvet off me and I sat up in anger.