Catherine Jones Novels & Stories

Tugging at her hair, she screamed hysterically, "She should've died! Everything she had should've been mine! Simon should've been mine! "Once she's dead, I can finally become his mate." Mom stumbled back, dazed. "She's gone mad…" she murmured. "Zora, my poor daughter… I'm so sorry!" Her eyes rolled back, and then she collapsed. Dad silently caught Mom in his arms. His presence grew imposing as he glowered at Laila and snarled, "From now on, Zora is my only daughter. As for you, you're disowned. Someone like you doesn't deserve to be my daughter!"

“Didn’t know your wizard was that good.” I can practically hear the grin in his voice. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Cain. By the way, have you called Ronan yet?” “Not yet. But I will, though. After I sort this out.” “You’d better. You’ll need your pack now more than ever.” I hear papers shuffle, then Draven says, “Catherine. Catherine Jones.” It hits me hard. Catherine. Her name is Catherine. I was right. “Thanks,” I breathe, gently setting her down again as I tuck the holster away in a kitchen cabinet. “I’ll be expecting you.”

His mother did not turn around when the door clicked shut. Catherine Hawthorne was a woman carefully, precisely diminished. Once an heiress of immense sharp intelligence and sharp-tongued ambition, fifteen years of living inside Victor Hawthorne had systematically filed her opinions down to safe, harmless shapes. She had learned, through a series of quiet, devastating lessons, that having a distinct personality in Victor’s house was a luxury she couldn't afford. She survived by becoming part of the architecture—graceful, silent, and entirely predictable. She stood before a long stone trestle, holding a slender copper watering can, her movements slow and deliberate. Her silver-spun hair was p

She had gotten caught up with a client. “I know you usually skip dessert unless it’s a special occasion,” Bruce said as Alex sat the serving tray down in front of Catherine. “But, this is a special occasion.” Alex quickly left them. “Is it? Your birthday was in November and mine won’t be for another seven months,” Catherine said with a little smile. She had short, thick blonde hair and bluish-hazel like eyes. Catherine looked like a proper sophisticated woman in her silk dark blue blouse and black floor length skirt.

So she had to suck it all up and play the role of a cool, unbothered assistant. But deep down, her heart bled watching Catherine try on gown after gown and modeling them for Zane. “What do you think of this one, Jade?” Catherine asked as she stepped out of the dressing room in a stunning gown that hugged her curves just right—elegant, timeless, and undeniably beautiful. “Ms. White, everything looks perfect on you,” Jade said with a genuine smile. “You just need to listen to what your heart truly wants.” “That’s sweet of you,” Catherine replied, turning to admire herself in the mirror. “But I need to look perfect in Zane’s eyes—so he never feels the need to look elsewhere.”

I try to recollect the series of events that occurred before I passed out and I am once again, filled with dread. I try to stand, but my legs feel like jelly. I stumble and fall back onto the bed. Where am I? And where is Cathy? The door to the room suddenly creaks open and a woman enters. She is tall and statuesque, with long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She's dressed in a flowing white dress, and she looked like a princess out of a medieval movie scene. “Welcome, Charlotte,” she says, her voice soft and sweet. “My name is Eleanor”

Catherine is wiping tears from her eyes, smiling so brightly the wrinkles around her mouth are showing. "Recognizing your other mate, are you?" Catherine asks as she walks further away from us; her high heels are clip-clopping again the asphalt, and her red velvet dress makes her look dramatic. "Isn't he beautiful?" A low rumble vibrates my throat as I feel Jenna's anger growing within her like a pit of fire. Catherine is stroking a hand over the werewolf's dark coat, smiling when it lowers its muzzle into her waiting hands like an obedient pet.

“Catherine is a wonderful conversationalist.” “To you,” Trevor stressed with annoyance as he poured champagne in their glasses. “Just once I’d like to see that woman let her hair down. And breast implants and ass injections wouldn’t hurt her one bit.” Christopher chuckled as Selena shook her head. Trevor filled his glass to the hilt. “Now, which one was she?” Selena asked. “We didn’t get to speak with her tonight,” Christopher said. “You didn’t meet her.” “But for future reference, Catherine is a lawyer who has short blonde hair, a flat ass, and no chest to speak of, not even small lumps. She has thin lips, but pretty blue eyes.”

She had admired him from the start, subtly trying to catch his attention, but nothing ever went beyond fleeting exchanges. Catherine had changed everything. On the third day, attending under the guise of philanthropy and academic patronage, she appeared as the devoted, supportive wife beside Jonathan. Nancy remembered how Catherine had noticed her, quietly trying to engage Jonathan, unaware he was focused entirely on the conference. Catherine hadn’t shown jealousy; she had been calculating. Polished, confident, persuasive even in early pregnancy, she approached Nancy after a lecture, complimenting her efficiency and the seamless way she managed the event. The conversation seemed harmless...

This marriage would definitely go downhill very quickly. "Aunt Mae? Like aunt Mae, as in your sister?" Alex needed to confirm that the two of them were speaking about the same woman because there was no way her aunt would commit to one person. "Yes, aunt Mae, as in my sister." Even William struggled to believe she was getting married. When she told him the news he laughed, hoping it was a joke but unfortunately it wasn't. Aunt Mae Jones was indeed getting married. "Do you know who she's marrying?" Alex asked and took a sip from the water bottle on the side of her bed.