His Curvy Kiddo Novels & Stories

His comrade exchanged amused glances. One whispered, "Yikes, is that Curtis?" His friend nudged him. "He's got kids, it's natural he's soft with children." The child blurted out, "I want to be an alpha like you!" Curtis chuckled, "I'm not an alpha, little one." The child's innocent reply was unexpected. "Then I don't want to be an alpha. I want to be like you." He held up his hand. Curtis smiled, promising the child that with hard work and good food, anything was possible.

Shortly it's my turn. "What's your name kiddo?" asks the boy whose handing out schedules. Kiddo? I may not look it, but I'm probably older than you. He stands easily half a foot above me, somewhere around 6'2'. Blond hair, blue eyes. A lady's man no doubt. I'm offended by kiddo, and think of throwing a hissy fit. I've never done that, but it looks a little fun to be honest. But, remembering my karma, I smile, and say,

Glancing at the mother for a moment for permission, she crouches down, offering an open jar to the toddler. "And what's your name?" The little girl lisps. "I'm Libby-Beth." "Would you like one of these?" Libby-Beth crooks a finger to her mouth, sucking the tip, but nods, then reaches in for a candy. "I'm Cindy. You can come and play with me and the other little girls and boys for a bit. Mummy will come for you in a while. Alright?" Libby-Beth nods and then, holding Cindy's hand, toddles away.

Another little girl with short black curls asked, hugging her tan teddy. “And a baby, would they have babies?” A freckled girl hugged her knees, rocking slightly. “It would be girl,” the first little girl said, smiling brightly, her little dimples making it even sweeter. “No, a boy,” a copper-haired male toddler strongly opposed her, shooting out his bottom lip in a pout. I chuckled softly as warmth bloomed in my chest at their inquisitive minds. Their wide-eyed faces, tilted heads, and little hands reaching for my touch felt like home. I bent slightly to brush a brown curl from one boy’s forehead; he leaned into my touch without thinking.

Then JP goes to my backpack and unzips it. “What are you doing?” I ask. “I said I like their… how do you say it?” He makes a pantomime of flipping something over his head. A couple of the kids are wearing jackets with hoods. “Hoodies?” I ask. “Hoodies, yes. And I offer to buy them.” “I need something more than a hoodie,” I say. “A hoodie’s not going to go well with a skirt and heels.” “Yes, yes,” he says impatiently. “I offer to buy the small one’s clothes as well.”

Have you ever wondered how you made it through highschool? I'm not trying to be a pessimist or whatever but I wonder how I actually made it through. I was the chubby girl, fat__when the girls wanted to bully me, and curvy when my friend Olivia tries to cheer me up. She’s my bestie since high school. I'm curvy or as Olivia would say 'thick' , really would be sexy, if I could only get rid of the extra arm fat, big tummy, and literally every fat on my chubby body.

Marisol Reyes is the strongest fighter her pack has ever trained and yet still not enough. When her father's council rejects her as Luna material for reasons that have nothing to do with her strengths she leaves. She finds a healer's den in Ashworth territory, a family and an Alpha who looks at her like he's already decided. Kade Ashworth isn't confused about what he wants, he is just waiting for her to believe she's allowed to want it too. Her old pack isn't done with her and the truth behind her mother's death is about to pull her back into a fight she never chose.

She is persistent. “Fine, I’ll take you, just not now kid, why don't you go get me one of those muffins Chadley made?” “If I do that, AFTER will you take me to see the horses? Pleeeeease Beggar, my papa said he ain't takin’ me to see shit until I fess up.” Her curly hair reminds me of a barbie doll. Those naughty eyes and thick eyebrows resemble a she demon. The kid is cute, and has one hell of mean streak in her, but she is straight up.

“Apparently he corrected her pronunciation of ‘photosynthesis’ and then explained it to the class.” I laughed. “That’s my kid.” “That is very much your kid,” she said fondly. “She wanted to know where he got it from.” “And you said?” “I said he comes by his stubborn intelligence honestly.” I grinned. “Accurate.” Her expression softened. “He has been asking about you more.” My smile dimmed just a fraction. “Yeah?” “He wants to know if you will come to his school showcase next month.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

But then it slowly returns to normal. “I’m Charlotte Cruise by the way, and I’m ten years old,” she says as if reciting a memorized verse. Maybe it’s another thing they learn at school. She takes the end of her fancy dress and does a cute little curtsy. That thaws the robot, and he lets out a soft snicker. Not even metallic hearts can be completely insensitive to the cuteness factor of small kids, puppies, and fluffy yellow ducklings. And Charlotte just happens to be a very cutesy girly girl. Future head cheerleader and prom queen. A queen bee in the making.