Jenny's Secret by Mini Rosen
Every woven wall in the cottage holds whispers, stories untold, and confidences that hover like threads of smoke above the fire. Jenny's Secret slips into this space perfectly, a tale where silence speaks as strongly as words, and where the keeper of the secret is changed forever by its weight.

Orla's Corner: Whisper from Connemara
There’s a place far to the west, called Loch Con Aortha. The old ones say the name means a hound on the heart vein, and when you stand there, you can feel it, the air pulling at your chest like breath itself. I walked that beach once, long before I knew how to collect secrets. The sand seemed to listen, and the sea carried words in Irish, the kind you only half-understand but never forget. Even now, when the evening wind sharpens on Lough Owel, I hear it again, that pulse, that tide, returning.

The Heart Jar by L. Freshwater
On a shelf in the cottage, there are jars that hold more than herbs or buttons. Some are filled with memories too fragile to name. The Heart Jar is a story of what we keep, what we preserve, and what refuses to be sealed away. It belongs in the quiet cupboard of the Weaver’s Cottage, where the air itself remembers.

Some nights, when the stream is in full voice, the Weaver swears she hears the rustle of a scarf caught in the thornbush. They say it belonged to a girl who came here from far away, and never quite finished her story.

The Russian Girl
by William Falo
A vulnerable teen on the streets of St. Petersburg dreams of escape, but faces danger, deception, and a brush with trafficking. When hope flickers through fear, she finds strength in friendship and survival in the shadows. A haunting tale of resilience and risk.

They say if you stand at the Weaver’s hedge gate at dusk, you might see her shadow pass in the window above, the lady who spins silk and blood in equal measure. Count the hooks in her spare room… but never, ever, be the seventh

Perched in her castle above the village, surrounded by moats and whispers, Solomon's Lady Bluebeard lures her seventh husband to a fate that may, or may not,match the bloody hook-lined trophies of her past. A gothic tale of hunger, seduction, and the strange mercy that sometimes blooms in the shadow of cruelty.

The Butterfly and the Summer Solstice, Solin
On the longest day of the year, a hush falls over the cottage garden, a stillness so complete that even the poppies seem to lean in. Nell and her grandmother, quiet keepers of this place, watch as a butterfly the colour of candlelight drifts in from the meadow. Before night’s end, it will leave a gift,one that binds the garden’s magic to the heart of whoever is ready to believe again.

Solin: the old stone cottage was wrapped in the scent of roses, the unfenced garden spilled freely into the meadow
Lavender ran riot near the gate that once closed off the boreen