Evelyn Todd Novels & Stories

Evelyn Carter. Her photo was clipped neatly to the top of her file. She wasn’t glamorous. She wasn’t styled or polished like Vanessa Hart, or the glittering women who usually hovered around his son. She was… ordinary. A diner waitress with tired eyes and soft curves. But in that ordinariness, Gregory saw exactly what he needed. He tapped the photo with his finger. “This one.” Allen blinked. “Evelyn Carter? She’s only just applied. The evaluation process isn’t even complete.”

Mrs Angela said, smiling gleefully. Tracy Molly turned, her radiant smile beaming as she showcased an effortless grace. Her poised demeanour was matched only by her stunning appearance. Her dress flowed elegantly around her, accentuating her feminine assets. Wade's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Tracy approached the table, her gaze meeting his. His mother, Mrs Angela, looked triumphant, clearly pleased with Tracy's grand entrance. "Isn't she beautiful, Wade?" Mrs Angela asked, her voice tinged with an air of assurance.

“Come on, you’re stalling. Pull it up.” Nodding, I double-clicked the first photo and looked at it. Evelyn was standing on her tiptoes against the railing, her arms in the air. The wind was blowing her hair as her eyes were closed and back slightly arched. She was in a beautiful red dress that clung to every curve of her body. It was the evening and the bright lights of Vegas cast a glow around her. I slouched against the couch.

Technically, Eileen Russel was only six years old, the same age as Evely, when Francis divorced Vivienne. She was supposed to be another innocent person who was affected by her parents’ doings. However, Evie knew clearly that the six-year-old Eileen was nowhere as innocent as she was supposed to be.

“She’s taking a nap. I made sure she finished all the chicken soup I made for her. I wanted her to take some medicines but she refused; She’s scared of taking any pill because of the baby. But I’m sure she will be okay when she wakes up.” “Thanks, mom. You’re a lifesaver.” “You’re welcome. Just hurry up and get your ass here. You know I have to get home early to go take care of my husband.” “No problem mom. I’ll be there soon.” Evelyn made herself comfortable on the Sofa, brought out some sketches out of her bag which was pending her approval. Evelyn was the one in charge of her family’s fashion house. The fashion empire was built by her grandmother and passed to her mother, then Eva; her el

Eoin walked across the room behind me and started to clear up the beer bottles on the living room coffee table. "Well it's not fine now."I sighed."We need to get to Chicago to fix this."I was looking around his apartment when I noticed a pair of woman's high heels on the floor by the sofa. Obviously I've interrupted something. I wonder who he was with?? He's never on to talk about his sex life. "Both of us.. Okay! When do we leave?"He asked. I looked down at my designer watch."56 minutes, so if I were you I'd get a move on. I'll come back and pick you up in thirty."

He looked meaningfully at Brad then Doris, then Brad again. "Oh, shut up!" Brad mumbled. Jason lifted a shoulder. "I didn't even breathe," Jason replied with a chuckle. Now, it was Doris' turn to laugh. "Hey, Jason! We haven't officially met, have we?" She stretched out her hand. "Doris Evans." Evelyn's supermodel friend, Doris, the style guru/social media influencer was as much a force of nature as Evelyn though in a different package. Evelyn was charming and extremely beautiful but didn't understand how beautiful she was. Doris, on the other hand, had explosive looks and knew how to use them. Her platinum-blonde hair and long legs drew men in throngs.

Forever. “There’s something much more important, Norah.” She straightens up in her chair and I look around. We’re seated at the outer part of the bar, under a large umbrella and occupying a cute wooden round table. I don’t think we should be talking about all of this literally just beside the street. But the weather is nice today and we both want to enjoy it without worrying about nosy strangers. “Well, the chief revealed that Mark was actually poisoned with the belladonna extract you gave me that night. And Oliver’s fingerprints were found on the vile,” I explain.

We’re almost there, the cool promise of the evening air just steps away, when someone steps into our path. “Mr. and Mrs. Washington!” I glance up to see Evelyn, the publicist for the Washington Hotel franchise and all its subsidiaries. She’s polished as ever, her sleek black dress a sharp contrast to her bright, professional smile. “First of all, happy anniversary to both of you,” she says warmly. Her eyes flicker toward me, taking in my dress. “You are clearly the only one who can pull that off, Mrs. Washington.” “Thanks,” I reply, offering a polite smile. “You can just call me Gina, you know.” Evelyn is great at her job—sharp, efficient, and always on top of things. I understand why Mark h