Mrs Martin Novels & Stories

Aaron’s POV . . I finally snuck out of the gate, sucking in a breath. Nessa and I had decided to come to town to visit Mom and Dad with Marshal and also see his wife. Yes, a year ago Marshal had secretly had a small wedding with Martha, a woman in her early forties he’d apparently been seeing for years but was too shy to introduce to Nessa. Nessa, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. Her dad was happy, and that was all that mattered. Martha seemed like a really nice woman, to be honest, with a great sense of humor.

Rita Vermon whispered, stepping out from behind a bookshelf. “Hello, Rita,” the woman said, her eyes scanning the room with a cold, predatory intelligence. “I see your grandson has made quite a mess of the foyer.” “Elena Vance?” Marcus gasped, his hands freezing over the keys. “The woman who owned forty percent of the steel industry before the merger?” “I owned the steel that built this city, young man,” Elena said, walking into the room and taking the seat at the head of the table—the one Zander usually occupied. “And I’m the only person in this room who Michael Blackwood is actually afraid of.”

Maxima Davenport didn’t know it yet, but she’d just become the answer to his desperate request, the perfect pretender… She was about to become his perfect fake “Mrs. Right”.

A BABY FOR BILLIONAIRE KNOX (THS CLUMSY MERMAID) EPISODE TWO THEME: Knowing the Martins Mrs Elaina Martins is one of the most influential women in America. She is a widow. Elaina lost her husband in a plane crash that killed a thousand of people when her son was just ten years old. Elaina Martins is bossy, dominant and she always wants to be in control of the lives of the people around her. She took over the family businesses but she hasn't been in good terms with her son ever since her husband's death.

Violet stood on the marble floor in her cheap wet boots and felt, suddenly and completely, like a problem someone had dragged inside. A woman emerged from an archway to the left. She was somewhere in her sixties, tall and narrow, with silver hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Her black dress was simple, severe, and perfectly pressed. Her eyes moved over Violet once. Not rude. Worse. Accurate. “Mrs. Blythe,” Martin said, “Mr. Cain requested a room be prepared.” Mrs. Blythe did not blink. “Did he.” It was not a question.

Madam Katie was ready to go for Claire’s event, she was not in the mood to attend but seeing what Carina had already set in place, she knew that Claire would not be in her right state of mind and she wanted to witness that too, Madam Katie was getting ready when her eyes caught Martin and Carina outside the windows, She watched them as they chat, She didn’t know how to describe the energy they had, it was something she couldn’t wrap her head around, Martins wasn’t the one to do anything for any woman, he was cold-hearted around women and he only dated for the fun of it or whenever he wanted to charm the girl into making her family do business with him, it was safe to say that martins had nev

Celestine, one of the bellwomen who looked like Taylor Swift with a troll-like nose, shrieked, “The Martins?” Martha, the guard, and the other bellwoman looked at her as she put down the luggage. She fumbled for a square something behind her back, and, finally, showed off a crumpled thick magazine that featured Robert and Melinda Martins on the front cover. At the top of the couple’s head was the word: Business Review and its lower region flashed the caption “The Pillars of Mining Business.”

“Miss Martin, Mr. Robinson is currently in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?” “No appointment,” she replied coolly. “But I came to talk about Aunt Maria.” That excuse again. I offered a polite, corporate smile. “Understood. Give me a moment to check with Mr. Robinson.” “Thank you, Mr. Davis,” she said with another charming nod. I knocked on the office door, then stepped inside. “Mr. Robinson, Miss Martin is here. She says it’s about Aunt Maria.” His face darkened immediately. He tossed his pen down with frustration bleeding through every sharp movement.

Martin's front door. The door opened and I was surprised to see a grey-haired lady standing before me. She looked at me curiously to know who I was and why I was here. Before she could ask who, I was, I asked to see Mr. Martin. "I'm sorry, but he no longer dwells here," she told me. "He sold me this house and went to live with his daughter in Spicy groove." A dark cloud surrounded me instantly hearing the news. My only hope of getting help from someone was ruin.