Mary Beth Gaskill Novels & Stories

When Katherine woke up she was surrounded by the people she had come to know Over the last few days people she had come to consider her friends: Giselle, her teacher, mentor, friend; Sofia, the sister Katherine had always longed for but never had in Melody; Ray Stalls and Tracy Adams, the Couple who couldn't stop fighting... or stay away from each other either; Moonbeam, a vegetarian, earth-loving girl whose voice was always soft and kind, never a harsh word escaping her lips, and her boyfriend who was the complete opposite, Jamie Madison.

“Emily, no offence, you know nothing. Yeah and that is not all that he is. He is also one of our ruthless killers, who doesn’t think twice before putting his life in danger. You can romanticize him all you want, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the devil.” “Yeah but maybe-“ “No, you can’t be the girl who makes him realize life is worth living and stuff and that killing is bad.” “Why do people always know what I am going to say? Am I really that predictable?” I ask him, almost upset that Jake, who barely knows me is guessing my exact next words. “Yes and trust me you can’t be that person but if you really need to talk to someone you can talk to Mary.” “Mary as in Nathan’s grandmother?”

George said, being a little suspicious about his question. "If I do, I don't see it as a crime. She is a beautiful woman if you ask me." Williams said plainly. "Rebecca is a lost cause. She would easily believe any you tell her. If she was still here, getting her will be as easy as pie. Let me in a little secret." George said softly, "She used to be one of my women. I had no intention to love her back but once you've had her, there's no going back."

He had even told Mary that I disliked the countryside and had barred him from returning. It was no wonder Mary never really spoke to me during festive seasons. I walked into the empty building and raised my voice. “John, where are you? Come out now!” A woman walked out of a bedroom and stood before me. “Who are you? Why are you looking for my husband?” I stared at her. She was wearing a skimpy dress. When she saw me, she purposely pulled up her hair and revealed the hickeys on her neck. In a moment of recognition, I recalled that this woman was Gabby Smith, an intern in the company.

“Oh! Hello, Mrs. Gable,” I said, the words tinged with a disappointment I desperately tried to mask with an awkward smile. My pulse, which had quickened at the thought of Malcolm's arrival, now settled into a dull throb of letdown. Mrs. Gable stood there on the porch, her silver hair pinned back in a neat bun that spoke of old-world propriety, even in our pack's more relaxed circles. She was a Beta through and through sturdy, unyielding, with lines etched around her eyes from years of quiet observation and sharper-than-average senses that missed nothing.

Following the only route in this place that I know, I skip down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where I remembered seeing a back door. Instead, I see Grayson. What is doing in here still? He stands with his back to me, doing something at the sink. And the only thing he wears, are a pair of black dish washing gloves. One brief eye full of a very firm, smooth butt has me screaming and ducking for cover behind the bench. "Lexia?" I hear Grayson say into the air, as I press myself as close to the bench as physics allow. He can't see me. I can't see him...What the hell did I just see?

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.

When I brought Gabe here, Bob said that his wife was out of town for a few weeks at some sort of symposium or business thing. I quickly get dressed and meet Gabe and Christine in the kitchen. Christine hands me a cup of coffee, as she is filling Gabe in on her trip. “The place they put us up at was really nice though, had a spa, and shit. So, that made up for the boredom of the lectures that assaulted my ear holes.”, Her hands doing a good bit of the talking for her. I smile at how happy she is. Its effortless for her, and almost childlike. “Christine, Hannah; Hannah, Christine” Gabe introduces us. “I hear you are quite the warrior Hannah.” She excitedly tells me, her strawberry blond

The Red Room is my only salvation to save me from becoming a berserk Alpha. I sit on my new chair, close my eyes, and feel the comfortable leather. This is good. Suddenly I smell vanilla and dew grass scent getting closer and stronger. I know who is about to come in, so I swiftly grab any file from my desk and pretend to read it. I see it's a cosmopolitan magazine, the cover page has a photograph of Madonna kissing some model, who is one-third of her age. I sense Ethan inside my cabin but one thing that catches not only mine, but also my wolf’s attention is,

*** Lauren entered with Amy Grant at her side, stepping into the grand burial celebration at Los Angeles’s largest hall. She parked her car, but as she moved toward the entrance, her eyes caught Ethan’s vehicle nearby. Something urged her to check. She leaned closer, peering through the window. Ethan wasn’t alone. Her heart stuttered when she saw a woman inthr sm arms. At first, she thought it was Pearl Whitmore—his mother. But then the woman shifted, and recognition struck her like a blade. Martha Skylar.