Charlotte Bronte Novels & Stories

Her father is hardly ever home, working long hours in the city while her mother spends most of her time grading papers from all of her high school students. She opens the door quietly, but there is no need. Her mother is still awake. She's curled up in the living room reading her latest adventure novel wrapped on the comfy (and dare she call ugly) recliner her father just had to have. Her curly auburn hair is up in a bun with a few stray strands spiraling free as her eyes intently scan the new Kindle she received for her birthday only a few weeks ago. It's safe to say she has become a little obsessed with it. Can't say Sera can blame her. She herself escapes to a different world every time s

It wasn't Katherine's style, but she had always preferred the open airiness of Cape Cod to the elegant grandeur of the Victorian era, despite her love of Victorian literature. Katherine had only one last guest to serve and she dreaded it. Of all the guests to give her trouble the last few days, Agnus McDuffie had been the absolute worst. Everywhere he went, he left a massive mess behind him, shooting her a satisfied, malicious look as he walked away. If she had just mopped the floor, he would deliberately walk all over it after just going outside, trailing mud and dirt all over her nice, clean floor. Fortunately, none of the rooms were carpeted, so she didn't have to deal with the hassle of

"What do you want to do today? We could stay in, decompress from last night, or venture out if you're feeling brave." "I think I'd like to stay in, if that's okay. Process everything at a slower pace." "That sounds perfect." We spent the morning in comfortable domesticity, Julian working on some emails while I continued reading Jane Eyre in the library, occasionally interrupting each other with random observations or questions. "Did you know," I said around noon, looking up from my book, "that Charlotte Brontë published this under a male pseudonym initially?" "I did know that, actually. Rosa made me read it in high school. Insisted the themes about independence and self-respect were importan

Like a dam that had finally cracked. “I know it’s strange,” she said, setting the teapot down. “All this. The villa. The secrecy. But I didn’t know how else to repay you.” I didn’t interrupt. “I didn’t grow up like most wolves,” she continued. “I mean, yes, I had everything. Tutors, security, elegance. But not freedom. Not real trust. Not… space to be flawed.” Her eyes flicked to mine, searching. I stayed quiet. “I’m the youngest out of four,” said Charlotte while smiling faintly. “Everyone else is a soldier, a politician, a strategist. Me? I was the protected one. The porcelain doll. Too delicate. Too strange. Too different.”

She took a deep tiring breath, rested her back on the wall, and sat down on the floor. Her eyes glinted with something bitter, she wouldn't have stayed back if it wasn't because of her family back at home. Charlotte was the daughter of a publicly known rich man of country A. Charlotte had lost her mother years back in an accident, the incident had left a scar on young Charlotte as she had witnessed the scene. Her mother's car had clashed with another car with a man and woman in it.

CHAPTER 19 “Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at

A big black jacket emphasised her dressing, having its length to a considerable distance below her knees, blendings its colour with an exorbitant, pulchritudinous white 4-inches heels that elongated her model-like height. To round it all up, she was extraordinarily beautiful and that equally proved that I was exceptionally good looking because she looked a lot like me. I could almost say she was exactly my clone except from the slight difference in height but all other physical properties of hers equated mine. "Hi," she waved her hand slightly. She seemed really bossy and rude. And, also rich. It made my heart ache a little that I had rich parents but suffered immensely on my own. "I'm Charl

'' Charlotte was happy despite being unemployed and with a lot of debts on her shoulders, because since she gave birth she had never really gone out at night and this night she wanted to enjoy it to the fullest, in her head she said: ''Crossroads there goes Charlotte Ramirez.''

Spending the day with Charlotte, Jax, Oliver, and the kids made me more acquainted with them. Charlotte and Morris live near the packhouse in a cozy private farmhouse, and they were high school sweethearts. Morris is a supportive mate and tries to encourage Charlotte to pursue her fashion designer dream, which she did. Still, then she became pregnant and chose to drop her college studies, focusing on her family. Unfortunately, she suffered a miscarriage, and ever since, she hadn't been able to conceive. By how she took care of Carl, I could tell that she wanted to be a mother more than anything else.

After being driven out of the Liang mansion, having the Liang Company stolen from her, and hearing the threat from Charlotte last night, Elizabeth could find no good reason to treat the woman before her with respect. "I am still your aunt at the very least..." Elizabeth sneered upon hearing this, "Aunt? Sorry, but my aunt died a few months ago. Which aunt do you think you are?" "You..." Charlotte instantly flared up. She pointed at Elizabeth and said, "You..." Charlotte became an upper class member of society very late in life, in addition to the fact that she was relatively uneducated and uncultured, she could plausibly put up the act of a rich madam for a minute, but her true strengths lie