Emilia Rose Books Novels & Stories

Present Day I’m in desperate need of a fucking cup of coffee! It's only ten o clock on a Friday morning and I have no clue how I'm gonna make it all the way to three in the afternoon. I watch as student after student approach the front of my classroom. I try my hardest to concentrate on what they are saying as they each give their thoughts on the book we have just finished reading. Many of the students end their presentation with the phrase stay golden pony boy. I am so glad that they enjoyed the book. Of course they did, a story about a gang of poor orphaned misfits fighting with the well-off rich boys from the other side of the tracks, it was a no brainer. I’m so glad that this book is par

Another one named Jeremy came in with a bright smile. He was a beautiful lad. He had orange hair, brown bright gazes…. Why does Landon have such beautiful people around him? Are they actually his friends? They seem like individuals from rich families and he seemed a lot happier around them. He came to me with a handshake. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jeremy.” I handshake him as well. “I’m Larisa. It’s nice to meet you too.” Everyone was so freaking nice to me. They all kept practicing for what I couldn’t clearly understand.

~ BECOMING THE LUNA ~ EMILLE'S POV It was such a tiring event, having to fight that guy altogether and save everyone. Though we couldn't save our father, we took it as his sacrifice for everything to get better. At least everything returned to its place, and my uncle will be getting his judgment for being involved in this.

Claec's gentle hand had reached over to pet through her overflowing and untamed brown locks, and those warm eyes landed on her again, "What is your favorite flower, lil miss?" She had hesitated. "I like…" She bit her lip, trying to think, but only one answer came to mind, "roses." Claec had liked those best, and roses reminded her of… Warm eyes. An amused chuckle hit her ears, "Red ones?" "No." The lie escaped her mouth without a hitch. SCRATCH.

Or was it not a sweven? She could still imagine that very moment in their P.E.class when her whole body gradually hardened and somehow she herself was turning to a…to a rose. Not just a rose, a blood rose. Or was it just an ordinary rose? She’d never seen an actual blood rose before anyway and Rozelyn bet that it was far more different than any other roses. It possesses such extraordinary abilities and so it shall also possess an extraordinary appearance. She licked the blood from her finger, making her tongue taste the blood that it had been craving.

“Hell if I know. Do most people even know Romeo’s last name?” “No. In fact, most people probably don’t even know who wrote Romeo and Juliet, not anymore anyhow.” “So… I don’t know, girly. Maybe your old man will figure it out. Maybe not. I’m just here to make suggestions.” Ella put her hand on his shoulder. “It was a good one. I especially like what you said about me being the girl who lived, the girl who walked out of the tomb. That’s how I’ve felt this whole time, like someone who died and came back to life. Lost and afraid but ready to make myself into something new, someone I couldn’t have been before, if I hadn’t gone through that experience.” Outside, the city was turning into beach, a

I let out a quiet sigh and jab the elevator button for the first floor. Ava's paranoia is becoming a liability. She thinks searches and empty threats are enough to shake my world, but she has no idea how deep this runs. If anything, it's only making the game more interesting. But one question refuses to leave me alone. Why the hell did I moan Rose's name? It doesn't make any sense. It's reckless.

"Let me go, damn it!" "Stay away from my brother, Clara. It's better for you." As she finished speaking, I grabbed the wrist that was pulling my hair and twisted it hard. She screamed loudly as I twisted her arm behind her back: "I swear, Emilia, if you ever lay a hand on me again, I will break it." I whispered in her ear angrily, but she didn't stop. She scoffed at me: "And what are you going to do? Tell your father, who won't believe you?"

She was in the dining room, humming to herself as she polished the sideboard. “Good morning, Rosa,” I said. She turned around with a bright smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Winchester. You look lovely. Did you sleep well?” “Oh please, call me Emilka. You are old enough to be my mother.” I gave a small smile. “Actually I did, I slept well. How is your leg? Is the swelling better today?” “Much better, thank you for asking,” she said, leaning in a little closer with a playful look. “Has my husband had his breakfast?”

Then I heard Emilia. Her heels were clicking on the pavement. Getting closer. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. I could smell her cheap perfume. The kind that tries too hard. It wasn't Rhiannon's scent. Rhiannon didn't need perfume. Rhiannon smelled like vanilla and rain and something warm that I could never name. Emilia smelled like a department store. I turned my head. Just enough to look at her over my shoulder. She was hurrying toward me. Her red dress was wrinkled now. The hem was dirty from the gravel. Her black bob was messy. Strands of hair stuck to her face.