The Writers Retreat Novels & Stories

But the drive made the distance feel short with how fun it was. “We are here!!” Ismelida declared as she found a spot in the parking lot, turning the music off. “Thank you for the fun ride,” I said to her, and she responded, “Anything for you beautiful.” Stepping out of the car, we both held hands as we walked towards the entrance where the retreat would be held. The retreat started a few minutes after we found the right spot for us to sit. “We are just in time,” Ismelida whispered before the lighting on the stage dimmed and women covered in marvelous clothing emerged, taking their respective seats, introducing themselves before speaking to us about how vicious and fearful a woman can be to

I gestured my hand back toward the stairs, letting him know since there was nothing to talk about, I was retiring to my room. Then, just before I moved— “Uhmm… Debbie. Uhmm… Did you see the… the… messages on your phone? The ones about the retreat?” What messages…? Oh, it snapped. I nodded, clutching my bag. “I saw them. What’s it about?” I asked. Black smiled slightly. “It’s a tradition. Every year, the company takes the top executives to a mountain resort. It’s a three-day trip. We hike, we sit by the fire, we relax. It’s just, uhm… meant to take away the stress of work.”

"You seemed pretty righteous when you were wrecking other people's livelihoods." He turned toward the senior employees. "Sharon. Tell them about New Zealand." Sharon from the sales department stood. Her eyes were still red, but her voice never wavered. "Last year's retreat was skydiving in New Zealand. "Forty-three hundred dollars per person. Mr. Tyley paid for it himself. "My husband came with me. He said he'd never had that much fun in his life." "The year before was a hot springs trip. Before that, a sailing vacation. Every single year, the company subsidy was over two thousand dollars per person.

But soon she realizes maybe she hasn’t been the only one with a secret crush either. CHIARA BELLINI’S P.O.V. The De Santis Winter Retreat is not just some vacation trip that’s the first thing people misunderstand. Besides we all know when billionaires party they are quiet different from a normal party a simple mundane man throws. Every December, Lorenzo De Santis relocates the upper tier of his company, Executives, legal counsel members, some selected investors and friends to a privately owned alpine estate for ten days of closed-door negotiations. There’s no press, no leaks. No distractions that cannot be managed and what makes the retreat infamous is not the snow, the luxury or the busines

The snow stayed longer than expected, clinging to the branches and roofs like a quiet blessing. Inside the main lodge, warmth wrapped around everyone like an old quilt. The fire in the hearth crackled softly as the final evening of the retreat began. Emma stood in the center of the circle of chairs, her notebook in hand. Around her, the returning guests of The Hearth Collective gathered, wrapped in shawls and hope. Outside, the world was white and still. Inside, they prepared for one last night of storytelling.

Meanwhile, Yam, inspired by the unfolding stories around him, began something of his own—a writing circle called Words That Stay. No prompts. No critiques. Just space to write gently, where ink could flow without the weight of expectation. Ren joined, bringing pages tinged with the scent of rain-soaked mornings. Maris arrived with a notebook filled with margins doodled in quiet rebellion. Drew brought silence first, then words that cracked open like seeds finding light. And a guest who’d never written publicly before whispered, “I wrote about my mother once. It felt like peeling.” Yam smiled, offering them a simple rule:

Next to her, Caroline scrolled through her phone, grinning every now and then at the welcome emails the camp had sent. “You ready for this?” Caroline asked, her voice soft but excited. “We’re here,” the driver announced, slowing to a stop near a wooden archway that read: The Ridge Retreat: A Month of Stillness, Strength, and Self. Carolina’s face lit up. “Oh my God. After three years…”

I instantly felt stupid for imagining that. “It’s this thing that Miss Diaz and other CEO’s set up at the middle of every summer each year. She believes it helps us as an organization and is good for bonding and all that stuff. But sometimes Miss Diaz ends up traveling to other business affairs when it’s urgent, allowing us to go along with Alex whites, and as her PA, if she will be traveling you’re going with her and if she isn’t, you both will have to share a cabin at the retreat, oh and it’s a technology -free thing, so we’re forced to sit and talk to each other.

with riveting testimonials about its rustic charm and welcoming atmosphere. "It's settled," Nicholas said, pointing at the screen. "Whispering Pines Retreat it is. We can book a cottage with a fireplace and make our winter vacation unforgettable." The enthusiastic expression on Alicia's face changed after that. She suddenly remembered Nicholas's job, and started thinking about it. "Will this vacation interfere with your work?"

If only he could rewind and live the years with Sarah again, he would do things differently. Scurrying into the majestic beachside hotel which was hosting the Writers Conference, Robert managed a backseat even as the large crowd stood up from their seats and broke into a thunderous applause. Writer Honey had been announced. All her books were best sellers and readers lapped up every word she wrote, and yet she had remained elusive and had not written for three years straight. Today she was announcing her comeback from hibernation, the man sitting next to Robert filled him in.