Martha Reader Novels & Stories

NATHANIEL “Do you remember Martha?” I asked Ishmael, who had a book in his hand, assembling some vials on a table. I briefly wondered what they were for. He was always busy every time I came to visit. He paused momentarily, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. “Who the fuck doesn’t know Martha? She’s the crazed Nighthowler who scowls at everyone that looks her way.” “Well, I met her today.”

“That’s Martha, Grandma. She worked with Helia before he asked her to look after me. She’s cared for me all this while. She’s my housekeeper. But most times… she’s my friend.” Martha rises, graceful and warm, and comes to my side. “Mrs. Hills,” she says gently. “I’m so happy you’re well. I was worried sick when Helia informed us. Alexa couldn’t focus on anything else.” “Thank you, Martha,” I breathe. Relief washes through me. In Alexa’s storm, Martha was her lighthouse. “Thank you for being there for her. My little girl’s been through so much.” Martha nods. Her phone rings. She excuses herself, stepping out to answer it.

“Lorenzo wouldn’t work with Martin. He’s my brother. You don’t know him like I do.” James leaned forward, voice low. “Family or not, everyone has a breaking point.” “I’m not doubting him,” Raphael said firmly. “So whatever you think you’re chasing, drop it.” James leaned back, eyes lingering on Raphael. “I just hope you’re right.” Martin found Martha in the town square a few days later. She was browsing a flower stall, distracted by the scent of lavender. He approached with the same smug smile that used to unsettle her. “Martha,” he greeted smoothly.

Seraphina’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood at the threshold of the dimly lit room, the weight of the power she had just tapped into pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. The air was thick with the scent of old books and musty parchment, the walls lined with relics and objects of uncertain origin. Martha stood before her, the older woman’s expression unreadable, though there was an undeniable gleam of expectation in her eyes.

The only thing Earl had been speaking to was Mama and me. Martha approached Earl, tight lipped and cross as ever. “Stand up straight, girl.” Immediately I looked at Mama to see how to act. But she simply smiled at the older woman. I didn’t understand it one little bit. Martha was Earl’s wife and quite possibly one of the oneriest women in the entire universe. I liked her just about as well as I liked Father Montgomery, and that wasn’t saying very much. “Afternoon, Martha,” Mama replied as if she hadn’t heard the older woman tell me what to do.

But I was sure she was suspecting me for the wrong thing, thinking I had interest in her darling husband. Well, I do but not in the way she thought. I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind me. “Rachel,” a voice murmured. I turned. It was Martha, one of the older maids. She had been in the mansion longer than most, her hair streaked with gray, her posture weary but firm. She rarely spoke, and when she did, people listened. “Yes?” I asked, setting the apron aside. She glanced over her shoulder before lowering herself into the chair across from me. Her eyes were sharp, her voice barely a whisper.

Every moment we’ve shared floods me all at once, and gosh, it’s overwhelming. A part of me wonders what’s going through his mind right now. Is he feeling the same level of pain that I do? Or will he simply numb his in the arms of Marina. I hated her. I’ve decided that she is the only person on the list of humans that I feel a deep hatred in my soul for. Years I wasted taking care of that woman only for her to turn around and throw it in my face by stealing my husband. My mate. It’s clear that I don’t understand the meaning of a mate. Maybe James was confused about me. Did the marriage make his mind conjure up this bond with me? I still hadn’t fully processed everything that I’d been told and

She limped slowly and sat beside Martin after Joyce stormed out of the living room into the kitchen. “Mrs...” Martin was about to add ‘Miller’ when the woman cut in. “Call me, Martha.” Martin smiled at her. “Martha, I will be swift about this one. I don’t want you to trouble your daughter concerning your expenses any more. This is my card. Call me if you need anything and as for the house, I will buy it for you,” Martin said firmly, while he glanced at the entrance of the kitchen before giving the card to her.

But if you are a nymphomaniac like me, go ahead ;) Also guys, for the better understanding of the stories, I’d also like to give you the order in which the books should be read: 1)Nathaniel Lachlan 2)Aaron Riverwood 3)Landon Chambers 4)Danika Williams 5)Mary Redferne PS this book is set up in the 1960s Mary Redferne I was in the car, tapping my foot restlessly as the driver drove inside the gates of a mansion of the guy I was about to marry in a few months. Yeah I know, crazy! I never thought that I’d settle for an arrange marriage but I didn’t mind it right now. I’ve been communicating with my fiancé for a long time now over letters.

Does running away will remove the pain that we're feeling in our hearts? I don't know. But it's the only way my mind telling me. I, Cianna Marie Alvarez-Del Mundo, a martyr wife of Rodleigh Mariano Del Mundo and is now tired of being his martyr wife. "I don't want to be a fool anymore! I don't want to be your wife, to be a martyr anymore, Rodleigh Mariano Del Mundo!" I then again shouted before running away from his home.