Mother Novels & Stories

Yep, my son is taller than I am. Suddenly, Luca pushed Damien from me. "My mummy". He glared at his brother hugging my neck. "Hey, she's my momma too". " No my mummy". "My momma" "Mine" "Nope buddy, she mine". "That's enough Dame, stop upsetting my baby". Luca pouted his lips. "Damien, clean Emma and Luca please and Lisa so wash up too. I'll clean the kitchen while you guys are at it.

“Come on, dear, before you give yourself an aneurysm.” “I’m not letting this fucker inside my house—” “Come along, dear,” Mom says to Thorton, ignoring Dad outright. “Would you care for a pot of tea? Maybe a soda?” “A glass of water would be great.” “Wait a damn minute!” Dad exclaims. Mom waves a hand dismissively. “You can wait, Lion. Calm down a bit before you join us, okay?” In moments like these, I remember how cool my mother can be. Dad may be a hard, cold, badass where the Mafia is concerned, but it takes one hell of a woman to tame him. Her name is Amara, my Mom.

Mother sat in the living room, her back to me, a fragile figurine sculpted from sorrow. "Mom?" I called out, his voice rough with a torrent of emotions. She turned her face a map of tear tracks, eyes red-rimmed and raw. Relief and anguish warred within me as I rushed to her side, enveloping her in a hug that spoke of unspoken promises and fierce protectiveness.

Building the foundation of something that felt genuinely sustainable. The leather of the couch was cool against my back, but everything else in the room was burning. Eli was a heavy, solid weight pressing me down into the cushions, his hands framing my face like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. I could feel the ragged rhythm of his breathing against my neck, a hot, steady pulse that matched the frantic drumming in my own chest. "You have no idea," he rasped, his voice vibrating deep in his throat. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, and the intensity there was staggering—a mix of raw hunger and something so fiercely protective it made my breath hitch.

So, seeing her trapped in this bed never stopped being heart breaking. My father had always been a big man, standing at 7 feet tall and so muscular he made three of us look like we never worked out. But he was deteriorating more and more, shrinking in front of our very eyes. Every time I came here I swear there was less and less of him. Nova walked to mother first. She had the same red hair as Nova but it was turning white in places now. Nova ran her hand over her hair. She looked at us and smiled “well now I know where I get being a red head from”

~ARIEL~ "It is going to be okay," my mate's mother whispers softly to me as she pulls me into a comforting hug. Her eyes are filled with concern, yet there's a determined glint as she tries to reassure me during this tense moment. "I know it's hard to see or even think about, but it's something our family has to fight to overcome," she continues, her voice steady despite the worry flickering in her expression.

Even my parents and friends have learnt to stay out of my way from me on those days. You may wonder why I am always unhappy on this one day. Well, for starters, my one time nanny died on a Tuesday. Her name was Arya. It may not seem relevant but she was precious to me. Arya was like a second mother to me and losing her was more than just painful.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the response she knew was coming. Mrs. Smith's expression softened slightly, the anger in her eyes fading to a mix of pain and confusion. Rachel saw the struggle within her mother, the love for her daughter clashing with the betrayal she felt at Rachel’s confession. "Rachel," Mrs. Smith began, her voice a bare whisper, "you know this is wrong." Rachel nodded, feeling the weight of her mother's disappointment like a boulder on her shoulders.

"I'm going to ruin you, Matteo," he growled with his hands gripping my chin firmly and his dark eyes fixed on my face—precisely my lips. I swallowed hard. "Yes, I know you will." •~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~• To his father, Matteo Leone has always been a failure and a disposable burden. Matteo is offered up like a bargaining chip when the family business fails and is blackmailed into marriage to a man he thought he had never met. He tells himself it doesn’t matter until he walks into the ceremony room. And he recognizes the intended groom as the hot stranger from one reckless night he had tried so hard to forget. Alessandro De Luca—the man he had slipped away from before su

Sebastina said bluntly to Old Master Shaw, “Old man, you’re very confident that no matter what you say about me, I won’t blame you, right?” “Right!” Old Master Shaw shouted angrily, “I am very familiar with the kind of person your mother, Grace Summer, was! She was a woman with great character! It’s impossible for her to raise a son who has no principles and limits! It’s impossible that her son doesn’t know how to repay someone’s kindness!”