Cora Cartmell Novels & Stories

I replied frustratedly. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t follow you." “Leah. She’s a country girl that moved hundreds of miles away from her family and friends to complete a work placement and study course to further her career. She’s quiet, keep to herself, girl next door type and yet she was broken into and chased downtown. It makes no sense.” “Have the police come up with anything?” “I haven’t heard from Amelia yet. I’m going to call her shortly.”

Amelia retorted with a confident smile on her lips. Another author's note: I want to thank everyone who has been on this book since the beginning of time. I apologize for my update schedule that is really messed up. I also wanna thank my editor. This is El, and I will see you all again in the next story!

Inside the front page, a name had been written in looping calligraphy. Eleanora R. Bellari – 1898 She smiled faintly. Someone had held this. Cherished it. Scribbled notes in the margins. Dared to underline poetry. Words mattered to this woman, whoever she was. And suddenly, Emilia missed herself. The version of her who wrote letters in the margins of books. The girl who believed in pressed flowers and metaphors. Who hadn’t just fallen asleep in someone else’s life.

"There was this one time at the orphanage. I must have been about ten." All four men leaned in slightly, listening. "We had this old television in the common room," Cora continued. "It only got three channels and the picture was always fuzzy. But on Saturday mornings, they would let us watch cartoons if we had behaved all week." "Did you behave?" Ryan asked with a grin. "Usually not," Cora admitted. "But this one week, I had been perfect. I cleaned extra. I did not talk back. I followed every rule. Because I really wanted to watch this cartoon about a detective cat."

“Can – can I help you!? You can’t have this helicopter here – it’s dangerous!” Cora glances back at Ella, scowling, but when Ella shoots out a foot and gives her a little kick Cora steps forward, grumbling, towards the shocked staff member and snaps her hands to her hips. “I am Duchess Cora Sinclair!” she intones, far more formally than seems necessary. “And I…demand that my nephew, Cadet Andrew Clark –“

This was the great business clan in Yamira . Not long later, a tall female figure walked in. It was Cornelia herself. Austin narrowed his eyes and sized her up, becoming somewhat curious about her purpose in coming. "Hello, Mr. Lawson. My name is Cathy." Cornelia smiled as she introduced herself. "Please take a seat, Miss Bartholomew. Is there anything you needs me for?" Austin went straight to the point. "I hope we can work together." Cornelia pouted her red lips and looked at Austin, causing her to be even more envious of Victoria. A woman meeting two outstanding men in her life, that was definitely a type of fortune.

Viola Dumonte was much shorter than Cora as they stood in front of each other, although Cora had always been a tall girl. She was taller than most girls in her class who were of average out. Cora still couldn't believe it, the tiny woman on front of her was responsible for going wild and ripping humans to shreds.

"Get your peasant food off of the table." Cora sneered at me. Cora was the daughter of one of Lionel's elders. She was tall and thin with long red hair that went almost to her waist. Her eyes were an icy cold blue. She walked around the house as if she owned it. And she did not seem to like me. Which was fair enough, because I didn’t care for her either. “Excuse me?” I asked, blinking at her. “Your peasant food. Get rid of it.” Cora insisted.

Cora had been a healer for forty years and she knew how that sentence worked. I signed it and folded it and sealed it. Then I sat at the kitchen table. The morning light was coming through the window. The coffee smell in the apartment. The cracked window letting in the cold the way it always did. Twenty-two. That was how old I had been at Northmere. Young enough to not know what she was. Old enough to know something was missing and not be able to name it. She had baked bad bread on her first attempt. She had called Sable every week and talked for too long. She had sat in small pack rooms doing good quiet work and tried to take up exactly the right amount of space and no more.

Emily Warner “Oh my god! Who is sending these flowers?” My mom asks as a huge beautiful pink and red bouquet is delivered at my door, Carter sneakily removes the note from the bouquet before my mom could see it and hands it to be. How does he do it so smoothly, I would have tripped like ten times trying to be slick? “That’s from me, I like sending Emily flowers out of nowhere.” He gives my mom, one of his heart melting smile as she says aw and buys his story.