Bronte Mga Nobela at Kwento

I know it’s kinda cliche but we all want young adult stories at times to remind us of our teenage days (LOL). I’m off to writing my new baby. It’s titled The Alpha’s Cursed Mate and also available on Goodnovel. SPOILER ALERT: it’s a werewolf fantasy romance. I hope you’ll give it a shot. Scroll to the next page to get a sneak peek of The Alpha’s Cursed Mate!!!

Chapter ninety four Lora's coffee grew cold as she stared at the Boston Tribune's society pages spread across the kitchen table. Her hands trembled, crumpling the newspaper's edges. The headline screamed at her: "YOUNG BENNETT HEIR CELEBRATES 20TH BIRTHDAY WITH 'GODMOTHER' MONA KANE."

--- “Be quiet,” my aunt mumbled. “You will be quiet, young woman. Look at you saying things like that to me... You're on the news, on magazines as the woman always assaulted and always bearing bruises. That your mother did—that! Your father never laid his hands on her. The disgrace you bring, the shame, desperation to have a man? It makes me want to vomit... on your face. You're just that one taint in our family name that we can't get away from. No wonder your brother is always running from you. You're just insufferable. And after everything you coin it as your fault. Despicable!”

I made it down the drive to get the mail only to see a letter inide nothing else. I got the letter to see that it was from Wilson. It was his handwriting which I knew. I laid it in my pocket of my vest and got back into the truck and drove back to the castle without saying a word to Millie. Once back at castle I sat at the dining room table and started reading the letter from Wilson filled with rage. Dear Brian,

My body was exhausted coupled with the fact that I couldn't see past the heavy rain seeming to pour from the sky. No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. I still haven't found answers to my numerous questions. This was my last thought before I finally lost control of my body and let the strong current carry me ... *** The storm outside eased a little but it was still dark outside and he could tell that the storm only calmed down a little but there was still more to come. He continued reading the book positioned in his hands. His thoughts momentarily straying to his sad excuse of a family. Mr and Mrs. Bronx popularly known as 'The Bronxes'. He remembered the night when his parents had suggest

she grumbled. Vanessa exchanged glances with me and we burst into laughter while Brooke grumbled some more. "Sorry Brooke. It's not my fault they look nice," I said between laughs. "Well, Brooke isn't completely wrong," Vanny put in. I raised an eyebrow in question. "Let me explain," Brooke said. "Unfortunately, I can't remember the names of the security guy, the gardener and the cleaner but they both look good though the gateman looks like he could have a family. Your cook, what did you say her name is again? Your cook is very lovely. In fact, she's beautiful and also looks like a married woman. If her husband is as fine as she is, then her children must be drop dead gorgeous."

He glances across at her as she apologises to Mr Whiting for being late, again. Her top raises up to show the smallest bit of her tattoo on her smooth, toned stomach when she scrapes her hair back and twists it into a bun at the back of her head. Why isn't she wearing my jacket? I think with disappointment. Luke looks her over and gives an appreciative grunt when she drops a book then bends over to pick it up, her ass showing off nicely through her trousers. Nodding at me he concedes.

I ask, pulling away and looking into his face. “My girlfriends. Why are you jealous?” He smirks and I can feel myself frowning, he laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “No, Emily is Shane’s mum, Gemma is the neighbour and the sister to Shane’s other brother in law, and Elody is Shane’s little terror of a niece, she’s the boss of us all, including Jake.” “Right, ok.” I sit back on the sofa, but Luke pulls me back into his arms.

’, She murmured to herself. Looking down at the page, she was met with the name of Zayden’s other brother. ‘Brother Wyatt’, Was written beautifully. ‘Wyatt! Wyatt Staunton.’ Grace now recalled his name. . #TBC

Exactly as I'd left it. At the foot of the stairs, in a cream wool suit, silver-blonde hair pinned into a flawless chignon, stood Bronte Vance. A crystal glass of amber liquid sat in one hand. Her eyes moved over us, unbothered by the storm outside or the crisis threatening to swallow her family whole. "Lachlan." Her voice was smooth, regal. Then, to me, something tighter. "Kirrily. You look tired, child. But you brought your fire back from Byron Bay."