Claire Kingsley Books Novels & Stories

Cal moved three times as much as anyone else and said nothing. By evening the rooms were settled enough. Claire put her books on the windowsill shelf — three healer manuals, two she had bought at a shop on the way through town, one she had found in the pack house library and asked Rowan if she could borrow. She hung one photograph on the wall above the desk. Her parents, her father's arm around her mother's shoulder, both of them squinting into summer sun. Her mother young in it, twenty-something, before Claire was born, in a field that Claire now suspected was North Ridge land.

She headed to the desk lighting the candle once more and began trying to come up with some plan. Claire frowned, she had nothing. She didn't have any jewelry on her, she had nothing. The sad pouch of coin Jack had taken from The Crown would do nothing. She sat at the desk and folded her head into her arms. She had to double check, maybe something in her bag would make her think of something. She began emptying her bag. Clothing, journal, maps, the queen's contract, the seal, and then a box came thumping out. Claire tilted her head. The box was a deep velvet color and a maroon color ribbon. Her eyes widened. The Queen had a gift for the people: the trade agreement. Claire took a deep breath

Claire nodded at her brother’s words. “Kuya, will I be like Mommy someday? Wearing a crown?” “Of course! You’re a princess—it’s bound to happen, Claire.” “But Kuya, I don’t want it. Those elders are always blaming Mama. I heard them.” Clark was startled by her words and turned to look at her. “Claire, were you eavesdropping on the elders?!” His voice rose in alarm. Clark was three years older than Claire and more aware of the palace’s politics, especially since he was the next King.

But all my efforts seemed to be going down the drain now with all the constant squabbles between us. "Hey!" I jolted out of my reverie when Claire snapped her fingers in my face. "Sorry. I zoned out." I said a little curtly. "I noticed." She gave me a cheeky grin. I joined her in the back of the vehicle whilst the driver and bodyguard stayed in front. Claire and I got talking and in no time I had learnt quite a lot about her. She was an only child, twenty five years old, single and new at Kingston Corp though she had been in LA since she finished from college. She was a makeshift artist when she wasn't doing tech and I found that quite impressive. I eventually promised to see some of her wor

__________________ The Castle of Evil Ruby Eagerness filled her blood. Four kings. All fuckable. But...she knew the Lycan King couldn't get it up unless it's his mate. The Dragon King, well, his beast was spitting fire, it was useless. And the Vampire King could move faster than the speed of light and also mated to his china doll of a beloved. Impotent to other women. Her lips curled in disgust.

Too loving to protect her own heart. Monica hadn't just seen that weakness—she had weaponized it. Every intimate dinner invitation, every shoulder to cry on, every "innocent" conversation about Richard's needs had been a calculated move in a game i had been too stupid to realize I was playing. But that Claire was dead and buried. In her place sat Claire Elizabeth Winfred…soon to be Hayes….a woman who owned successful businesses, graced magazine covers, and was engaged to one of the most powerful men in the world.

she asked, her voice tight, like it was caught in her throat. It clicked then. Of course. She didn’t know who Claire was. I hadn't introduced Claire to her. I exhaled, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “Hilary,” I said carefully, “this is Clare. Our new chef from the Bennett mansion, Regina specially picked her.” The confusion on her face deepened, but I pressed on, wanting her to understand. “Trust me, she’s good. You don’t have to starve yourself anymore in the name of being busy. You can eat as much as you want every single day now.”

she stammered. I ignored her trembling and walked into my study. I had just sat down at my desk when the heavy oak door opened. Cain walked in. "Boss," he greeted. "Yeah. I need information on one of the ushers from the charity gala tonight," I started. Cain's expression shifted, a subtle flicker of surprise crossing his face. "What?" I asked, annoyed. "Nothing, Boss," he replied quickly, smoothing his expression back into a professional mask. "It better be nothing. She has brown eyes and brunette hair. She was working alongside a colleague named Christal. I want everything on her. Every single detail. Don't miss a thing."

He didn't think he'd ever seen a woman with such long legs and also such large breasts in one perfect package. "Oh, hello, I'm Claire from Funky Lady. I've got an appointment with Belinda Phillips?" Claire said, surprised that Belinda's husband would be around. She'd thought that Belinda had wanted to make her purchases in privacy. After all, a lot of them would be for his benefit.

She went to the office early, before the building filled, and knocked on the communications department door and Claire opened it and they looked at each other for the first time knowing what they were. Claire Reyes was thirty-five years old, four years older than Lila, with a bearing that was European and precise and an expression that was guarded in the specific way of someone who has learned to read rooms carefully because rooms had often held surprises she didn't like. She was wearing the Kingsley jaw in the same way Lila wore it — slightly more pronounced, inherited from James rather than from Lila's father's side of the line, but unmistakable once you were looking for it.