Claire Ward Novels & Stories

“Great. I was afraid you'd be angry.” “No, I won’t. Wilson and I have to meet often because of the child anyway,” Clara said. It made sense for Terry to invite Wilson as he had done him a favor when Lisa was in a coma. Lisa sighed in relief. “Clare, you look very pretty today. Those who don’t know you might think that you’re a celebrity.” Clara had sharp facial features and a good proportion. She would look good in anything. However she didn't groom herself much, and the clothes she wore were generally in dark colors.

Banished to a forgotten corner of the estate where no one would see her, no one would remember her, and most importantly, no one would question why Claire was openly acting as Luna. The stubborn bitch had refused to sign. Had the audacity to bring the elders into it, trying to back me into a corner. But I’d won anyway. Because she was gone now, locked away where she belonged. The sound of heels clicking on marble pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Claire entering through the main doors, her blue dress catching the afternoon light, pearl earrings glinting. She looked radiant, victorious even. But her expression shifted when she saw me. Her eyes went past me to the window, then back t

she shouted at Zen. I was looking at them. I didn’t remember seeing her in the pack before. I looked at the oracle confusedly. In between treating my wound, she said, "This is Claire, the daughter of our late war general. She is an alpha female." Zen and Claire were arguing. Zen took her out of the room to calm her down.

, she muttered as she scribbled down my name, together with some other things which weren’t in clear view. “I know that you are wondering what I am doing. You should also know that this is a special werewolf academy and that means that there are things you can’t even think of or imagine”, Claire said and chuckled again, with her gaze focused on whatever it was she was scribbling on the journal. “You see… I read minds. That is to say that I know every single thing that goes on in the mind of someone sitting a foot or two away from me”, she dropped and for a minute, I thought that I’ve heard wrong.

she continues. If you continue to disseminate lies like that, she will do more than just raise her eyebrows. "Claire, pay her no attention; she's trying to wind you up." I would want to add, casting a malicious glance at Kerry. She is competent in the task at hand. "Oh, I wouldn't say no. "Liam is quite the catch," Claire continues. Claire is a slob and a liability to her employer because she has already had sexual relations with many of Lancashire's farmers and auditors.

Muted by the memory of Liam’s hand holding hers in the dark. "Aurora?" Claire walked into the studio. Aurora turned, a smile ready on her lips—a smile that died instantly when she saw Claire’s face. Claire wasn't holding a tablet this time. She was holding a phone, pressing it to her ear, her other hand covering her mouth. She looked pale. Sick. "Turn on the monitors," Claire shouted to the room. The designers—twenty of them, young, talented, loyal—stopped working. Someone grabbed the remote for the wall-mounted screens usually used for presentations.

Claire left the Steele mansion late that morning, poured into a white dress that hugged her too tight and wearing sunglasses a little too big for her face. She walked like the world was hers and everyone else just lived in it. She didn’t know someone was waiting right outside her favorite Saturday café. “Oops! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” A woman bumped into her. Claire wobbled, caught herself. Maya. Maya looked nothing like herself—hair loose, clothes soft and plain, almost shy. Not the sharp investigator she really was.

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.

Claire, with raised eyebrows and a mischievous smile, fired off a series of questions all at once. "So, how was your day? How many coffee runs did you have for him? Any idea how many people he let go today? Did you spend an hour hiding in the bathroom to avoid him?" Claire, our office's resident gossip, exuded confidence and excelled in her role. I admired her ability to work office dynamics effortlessly. She had a captivating presence, with her beautiful eyes and curly hair accentuating her simple yet striking appearance as a black African woman.

She could already picture Serena's approving nod, Sally's rare smile of satisfaction. "No heroics tonight," Vivi called out as laptops snapped shut. "Sleep. Real sleep, not whatever you've been calling those three-hour comas." Claire gathered her things with mechanical precision, shoulders rigid with unspoken resentment. While others chatted about weekend plans and actual beds, she moved like a ghost through the motions—scarf wound tight, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes fixed on the exit. The October air bit at her cheeks as she stepped outside. "Another glamorous night in my spectacular career." she thought bitterly, watching her breath form angry little puffs. The sidewalk stretched ahea