Book Of Family の小説・ストーリー

What kind of person would do that to their family? My family had made me question the definition of family. I don't know why my own family is bound by blood, greed and hatred. One left when I was a baby and came back when I didn't even need him. The other killed his sister because of money. What in God's name is going on with the family He had given me? Why did I have to come to this world through them? My mother was the only one sane in that family and she had to die because of the insane one.

DIRTY AFFAIR WITH HIS IDENTICAL TWIN Chapter 175~ The Booker's had a family meeting, and I was invited. Even though the topic wasn't a happy one, it felt marvelous to belong to something so much bigger than myself. I had been a loner for a long time, other than having my pets and Kylie around. This family was complicated and they bickered and they loved each other unconditionally. It felt beyond amazing to be a part of that. Bernice and Christian stood up in front of their children and their children's partners and announced that they would be getting a divorce. We were all stunned.

To all my incredible readers, Thank you for being part of this journey. From the moment Alpha Logan was written to the final chapters of Her Second Chance Mate, it has been an unforgettable ride. This 12-novel, 9-short-story series has taken us across the world, showing that love and family come in many forms. No matter race, gender, or sexuality, everyone deserves love, a place to belong, and the freedom to define what family means to them.

"Come on, let's have a drink, just the two of us!" My foster mother finally let go of me, turning to Solomon with a scolding look. "All you think about is drinking! Our son just got home, and you're pouring yourself a glass? Thomas, stop him! Your old man's got high blood pressure; he should cut back on drinking!" Listening to my foster mother's chattering, I felt an overwhelming sense of warmth. This was my home. These were my real family. Before long, I heard that the Sullivans had gone bankrupt, and Giselle had disappeared with Kevin's last bit of money.

"Balance looks good on you." "It feels good. Finally." I finished my book about breaking generational curses. "CHOOSING LIGHT: How to Break Free from Family Trauma" The publisher loved it. Called it "necessary" and "powerful." Publication date: six months out. "Another publicity tour?" Isla asked. "Probably. But smaller. Less intense. I learned my lesson." "Good. Because our kids need at least one parent who's not traumatized by media attention." Fair point. We did family therapy.

DENIED. My handwriting stared back at me. Cold. Official. Final. Year one: “Another captain’s son has been taken. Priority reassigned. Frost is young. She can endure.” Year two: “The underboss’s child has been kidnapped. Someone must stay behind as bait. Frost is… suitable.” Year three: “A senior enforcer’s wife is giving birth. Family stability takes precedence. Frost has no dependents.” Year four. Year five. Year six. Year seven: “Fianna is a widow under the family’s protection. Her emotional state is unstable. Frost, as the future Donna, should show restraint and yield the position.”

Julian said nothing. He stood up, walked over to Elara, and held out his hand to her. "Come with me." He led her through a deep corridor to the family cemetery behind the castle. Moonlight poured like water onto the grass. Here lay the patriarchs of the Thorne family, and their cherished partners, buried through the generations. Each tombstone was etched with the family crest – a sword entwined with thorns. Julian took Elara to see his parents' tombstone, formally introducing her as his beloved.

It is my story, but it is also every story of chosen family, of blended lives, of love that refuses to be bound by blood or convention. She stopped, read the words back, and felt a shiver run down her spine. This was it. This was the book. In the nursery, Gracie stirred, a soft murmur of infant dreaming. In her room across the hall, Emma slept surrounded by dinosaurs and fairy lights. In the living room, Marcus scrolled through his phone, waiting for her to come to bed. This was her family. This was her story. And soon, it would be a book.

Then the one about my mother in the hallway. Then the next one. --- By January I had forty pages. Not polished. Not organized. But true. The particular truth of things remembered and set down honestly without the protective distance of documentation. Isabella asked about it at dinner in February. "Daddy says you're writing a book." "I am." "About us?" "About our family. All of it. From before you were born." I paused. "About your grandparents mostly. And what happened. And what came after." She was quiet for a moment. Her fork moving around her plate in the pattern she used when she was thinking carefully.

“My family.” THE END!