Comedy Female Growth Short Stories & Novels

With the return of his memories, my husband, Trevor Beaumont, recalled that he was the Alpha of a wolf pack. He walked away, leaving me with a ruby necklace as compensation. The jewel shimmered amid my sleep, and a tall, burly man stood before me. The compensation came with a hidden bonus after all. Later, I sent a message to my ex. “Thank you for your necklace. The guy inside comes in handy. “We’re getting married, and since you brought us together, we’d hope you can be the best man.” Trevor drove through the night to our wedding venue, veins popping out of his face as despair swallowed him. “Who the hell put the man inside the ruby?”

On Christmas Eve, I made a wish for a miracle: a round, perky, Kardashian-worthy butt. That night, I actually dreamed about Theodore Blake, the ice-cold captain of our college hockey team. He braced one hand on a desk, caging me in as he stared at a glowing screen flickering above it. [A dream you can't escape until you've built the perfect 'XXX'?] He raised an eyebrow. “What's the missing word?” It was only a dream, so I made something up. “It's... 'body.' Who doesn't want the perfect body?” He nodded, though he still looked skeptical. From then on, he appeared in my dreams every night, putting me through a grueling workout routine. He wouldn't let me sleep until I was drenched in sweat. Ten days later, my butt was still nowhere near peach-perfect. Mission failed. The bedroom in my dream suddenly shrank until there was only room for a single dorm bed! He was six-foot-three. I was five-foot-three. And there we were, trapped together, looking utterly helpless. We stared at each other awkwardly. My face burning, I turned away. His eight-pack pressed right up against my back. Wait a second. Why can I feel his skin? And why is he so warm? When I woke up the next morning, I was wrapped up tight in my comforter. After the hockey game that day, Theodore, the campus bad boy, pinned me against the locker room door and glared at me. “Listen, from now on, stop hogging the blanket at night! “And tell me. What the hell does that damn 'XXX' mean?”

My family, the Cosimos, has been locked in a blood feud with the Romanovs for twenty years. My father, the Don, and Don Romanov once got into a fistfight at someone else’s wedding, tearing each other’s black suits to shreds. “My son would rather be sealed in a concrete-filled oil drum than go anywhere near your daughter.” “Even if every man in America dropped dead, I still wouldn’t let my daughter have anything to do with your family.” But they didn’t know that Leon—the sole heir to the Romanov family—and I had kissed each other’s lips raw.

My bestie got wasted and begged me in tears. "Help me get into Caspian's bed! Please, spend whatever it takes, just get me out of this broke-ass life!" God help me. Caspian was the most ruthless Don in Chicago. I sighed. What could I do? I was her best friend. But I had one rule: never spend a dime more than I have to. The budget was set. The less I spent, the more I pocketed. She gave me $5,000 to buy a dress that would seduce him. I pocketed $4,900. So she wore a dress I made out of flea-market silk scraps. Her pitiful, broke-girl act completely won the Don over. Thrilled, she shoved another $1,000 into my hands to buy top-tier birth control. I skimmed $999 and bought a two-dollar bottle of multivitamins. Clutching that positive pregnancy test, my bestie looked at me like I was God. Later, the Don's ex, Cassandra—pure mafia royalty—came back for blood. Furious, my bestie threw $50,000 at me. "Ruin her! Aria, you're the only one I trust to handle this." But at the family dinner, that bitch struck first. "She hired thugs to attack me in the penthouse! They're hiding inside right now!" Yet, when Caspian kicked the door open. The woman's smug smirk froze. "Freaks... are you fucking freaks?! Who fills a room with life-sized creepy Halloween wax figures?!" ...