Emma White Author Novels & Stories

She slides the green button to answer it. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Ashley?” a female voice asked her. “Yes,” “My name is Emma. I am calling you regarding your book, we are quite interested in your novel. Shall we talk about it now?” she asked. “Ugh…” Ashley looked at Anne. She doesn’t want to talk about this matter before anyone. “One second,” she excused and walked out of the café. “Yes, please tell me,” she said. “Yeah. We read your novel and we are interested to make a deal with you,” she said.

Emma took a moment to brush a stray strand of hair from Lily’s forehead, her heart swelling with the kind of love only a mother could understand. She tiptoed out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and settled into the corner of the living room where her laptop awaited. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of the desk lamp that illuminated the scattered notes and textbooks she’d used for her research. Emma had been working tirelessly on her manuscript for months, pouring her heart into every page. Tonight was the night she would finally submit it to the esteemed journal she had been dreaming of reaching. As she opened her laptop and navigated to the journal’s submission guid

He clicked on his most recent Word document, updated the day before, and scrolled to the top page before motioning for Emmie to come closer. She did, inching toward him and making sure the flowy summer dress she was wearing didn’t roll up too much. As her eyes focused on the screen, Ramsay carefully lay there, waiting for her reaction. They widened the moment she saw a catchy title with the words ‘a novel by R. Jones’. “No way,” Emmie exhaled, scrolling to the foreword and reading the few words that started it, already knowing this book was something most people would need a dictionary for (if their parents didn’t work as journalists). “You write!”

Malachi states. “Yeah, that’s the feeling I am getting as well,” I admit. Devon linked a few of the wolves that run shops in town to see if they had seen our group of women, but none of them had. That is weird, considering they are all rather easy to spot. I got a link from one of the guards that just happened to be in town, and he said that he had seen Esme in town but not the others. If anyone of them, Emerald should be the easiest to spot. With her unique hair and eye colour, she usually stands out.

she began in a placating tone, “but I do know who you can ask about it.” “Emma, I swear, if you’re leading me on again, I will—” Emma Routh, my first and probably only friend in Forest Hills High, raised her hands up in surrender. “I’m being totally serious now… promise.” I placed the book back on my table. “Alright… spill.” “The one you want to talk to is Evan Leahy,” Emma replied. “He’s the chronicler of all things strange in Forest Hills.” “You say that like there are a lot of strange things happening in town…” I replied.

“And then, there's someone out there who has fifty one thousand with just two books.” “I knew it all along,” Alicia’s tone made Emily tear her gaze from her phone, something that once seemed impossible. “I knew she was a good writer that stayed humble.” “What's that? I'm confused here,” Emily leaned in. “The author of those books,” Alicia inhaled deeply, combing her hair backward. “The name is Elysia Alderidge.”

Emma Reynolds, a 25 year old writer and journalist, sat in her cluttered office at the Silverwood Gazette, her gaze fixed on the computer screen displaying the latest article she had written. For months Emma has been trying to uncover a mystery. The room hummed with the soft whirring of the ancient air conditioner, struggling to combat the summer heat that seeped through the old windows. Towering stacks of newspapers, teetering piles of research notes, and a collection of mismatched coffee mugs adorned her desk, creating an organized chaos that mirrored Emma's racing thoughts.

I whirled around, and that was when I saw her. Emma White. She was in the same major as me, but we couldn’t have been more different; she was a cheerleader, a tall and slender girl with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was one of the most popular girls at this school, and she hated me. And she was holding my notebook. No, not just my notebook; it was my journal, a place where I poured out my inner thoughts, my fears, my… desires. It wasn’t for anyone but me, and yet here Emma White was, reading all of it.

Mary Davies I woke up this morning to find out I have a new email notifications on my phone. I sat up in bed, as I scrolled through my phone. I hardly have messages in my G***l, apart from the few messages I get from the new blog I follow since I have gotten here in Minazuela. I've been following a story on a book blog, which is written by a writer called OD Eleven. Sweet sensation is a mafia romance book that makes me wonder if Mafia's really existed in our world.

I passed everything I found back to Matthew, who used the information to sabotage the company in ways no one could trace. But then, I met Emma. Emma was just another worker in the office back then, quiet and unassuming. At first, I didn’t pay much attention to her, but over time, I started noticing the little things. The way she stayed late to finish work no one else wanted to do, the way she always greeted people with a smile even when she was clearly exhausted, the way her eyes held a sadness she tried to hide. “She’s nobody,” Matthew said dismissively when I mentioned her once, “Focus on the mission.”