Mother Novels Novels & Stories

I had been making plans to put the blonde bastard to sleep permanently, but it was beginning to seem more and more that I would have to take out the meddling bitch first. Raya Banks wouldn’t be the first woman to have made Alpha Nikolai’s eyes wander. “It is the way of men Livie, always chasing after the hot young thing in town and forgetting their sad old wives and mistresses.” My mother’s half-powdered face called back at me from the mirror as I remembered her dabbing the white cast into her age-worn skin that had gotten slacker and slacker over the years. “But it isn't fair Ma! We shouldn't let them,” I’d whined foolishly, young as I was then, a farthing fool.

Fifteen men died saving my sister Serena from a fire. My mother said Serena’s life had been saved at the cost of fifteen lives. We couldn’t put her through any more pain. But the debt our family owed still had to be paid. So my mother put it in my name. When one of their families needed help with a family event, Mom made me give up my weekend for them. When another family needed my professor’s recommendation, Mom made me give it to them. When a third family needed a kidney, Mom made me give them mine. She always said, “This is a debt we owe them. Serena isn’t strong enough, so you’ll pay it for her.” A month after surgery, I came home for Thanksgiving. Before I could enter the house, Mom for

"Mark my words, Bruce Dickson! You'd better go and get Mom to check it out. Get it diagnosed and treated as soon as possible!" This wasn't the first time Sabrina told me to get her mom, Diana Wilcox, to check out my condition. Diana was a very famous top-tier andrologist at the Central Hospital. Her skills were exceptional, and she was also known as the best andrologist in town. But she was my mother-in-law! How could I possibly go to her for something like this as her son-in-law? Moreover, although she was already in her 40s, she was prettier than Sabrina, and I found mature women like her having a particularly feminine charm I couldn't resist.

In that estate, no one remembers Mommy anymore. She is like a raindrop soaked into the mud, with not a trace of her left. The maids, the cooks, the drivers, they forgot the old lady of the house long ago, and they all revolve around Benita now. Daddy kept Mommy’s room the way I asked. But it is only a specimen, with no life in it. Every time I see Benita strutting through the estate, my heart starts to ache. By what right? By what right does she get to have everything that should have been Mommy’s?

“My mother always said that she lived through two millennium, two centuries and eleven decades. She survived Spanish influenza, countless end of the world scares and Y2K. And why?” “Why the hell not!” came the thunderous response. “She saw the rise and fall of empires, kings, tyrants, moguls and more idiots than should be allowed. But me mum, always the feminist, loved the rise of the hemline and fall of the neckline.” Many men cheered at this. “To Mary Anora Elsbeth Briggette Orcutt McMahon Stewart. May her next life be as long and blessed as this one.” “To Grams!” someone called and it was then echoed by the rest in the room.

However, unlike him, I was far more sensitive, emotional, and delicate like my mother, JoAnne Rey Graham. Mama is a petite, Creole-cultured woman from the French Quarters of Louisiana. Her skin and features are almost those of a suntanned Arabic woman. Her hair was once long, jet-black, and straight. However, she’s now rocking an easy-maintenance bob cut. Her eyes are big, round, and sparkling. She has a naturally giving and loyal attitude, and despite the years of drug abuse and prostitution, Mama is exquisite. I admire my mother’s inner beauty and strength because our past was saddening. I recall hearing Mama getting her ass whipped by my daddy in the middle of the night. Mainly because sh

Man, it's like clockwork – Mom's on her game already, and the day has barely started. Now, don't get me wrong, my mother, Victoria Blackwood, is an impressive force. A woman of refined elegance and strict principles, she runs our family like a well-oiled machine. As the matriarch of the Blackwood dynasty, she takes her role seriously, making sure I live up to the family's prestigious name. But sometimes, her unwavering pursuit of perfection makes me feel like I'm walking on eggshells around her.

Charlie could not help but laugh lightly as he said, “Aunt Golding, is it truly as exaggerated as you made it out to be?” “Of course, it is!” Rachel said extremely seriously, “Back then, your mother was an absolutely irresistible attacking force in Eastcliff. Your mother’s looks, temperament, body figure, education, and also her heritage were an existence at a crushing level. After all, the country was just starting to open up at that time, and when it came to trends, the United States was definitely the center of the world trends. So, your mother was simply absolutely amazing in every aspect in our eyes.”

She didn't want us to learn how to cook not even how to wash our clothing or even generally do household chores" Nelly responded I understand your mother she wants you to be great people in life sh wants you to he independent for you to have your own money not o depend on men or to be dependant on other women who exploit the girl child or even get married and be a rearing machine for somebody's children, life is so cruel, I heard stories from magazine magazines ladies are hire to become a sarogate mother mother their womb becomes a rental house for foetus who are not going to be their children and if the foetus dies in the process they end up with nothing losing dignity money and being drain

"What nonsense are you talking about?" On the other end of the line, my mom, Christine Smith, sounded both exasperated and amused by the accusation. "Matthew, are you teasing me again? In this life, I've only ever had you and your brother—how could there possibly be another son?" Hearing the certainty in her voice, the doubt in my heart quickly dissolved. Of course. My mother was famous in all of Ardenford's high society as the model wife and perfect mother. Her gentle devotion to my father, Elias Mace, had remained unchanged for years—she was the woman every other rich wife was compared to.