Nora Roberts Audiobooks Novels & Stories

A small smile appeared on her face. Maybe he was resting. She walked closer. Just as she lifted her hand to knock she froze. A sound came from inside the room. A soft gasp. Then another sound. A low moan. Nora’s hand slowly dropped. Her heart began to beat faster. No. That couldn’t be right. She leaned closer to the door. The sounds became clearer. A woman’s voice. Breathing. Whispering. Moaning. Then Liam’s voice. Low. Familiar.

Nora’s POV “Do not move. Do not make a sound.” Marcus Hale’s voice stayed low and absolute against the back of my neck. His cock remained buried to the hilt inside me. My palms stayed flat on the polished conference table. The master key had already turned. The door handle began to move. City lights still glittered through the glass walls, throwing our joined reflection across every dark panel. I was Nora Blake, twenty-seven, the associate who had spent two nights learning exactly how little control she still owned on this floor. The thin fabric of my skirt sat bunched around my waist. My bare cunt clenched once around him in pure fear and he answered with a single warning press of his finge

“Bye, Jayden.” Later that evening, as we walked down the beach under the fading sun, I asked, “Did it bother you? Seeing him?” Richard shrugged. “I’m not threatened by something I’ve already won.” Another day, we stopped by a small bookstore café. I was reaching for a novel when I heard a voice say, “That one’s really good.” I turned. Nora. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as always — tailored pants, soft curls, perfect lipstick. “Thanks,” I replied, placing the book back.

“I’m not alone. And you should watch your back.” A knock interrupted us. I went to open the door, and it was indeed Nora. She was wearing a white dress and red high heels. She was beautiful if she wasn’t evil. “How much did you hear?” Amelia asked her. “Enough.” She smiled timidly and looked down. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have heard that.” “Well, I am not,” I countered. “It’s fine. After what I did to you, Alpha Ryden is right. You shouldn’t trust me.”

Nora was looking at Claire. She stood and looked at it for a long time. Then she put it face down at the back of the wardrobe shelf and closed the door. Ethan came back at half past seven. She heard the front door and then his footsteps below, and then Margaret’s voice low and brief, and then quiet. Nora was in the upstairs sitting room with a book she had not been reading for an hour. She stayed where she was and turned a page she had not read and listened to the house settle around his presence.

Nora called out to me but I was unable to look away from the door as my chest tightened and my breathing became shallow. The memories of the rogues dragging me away flashed through my mind and different voices rang through my ears. 'Just hand over the vial Scarlett,' 'You can't let them get a hold of the vial,' 'The white wolves-' I covered my hands over my ears as the voices got louder until they were unbearable. "Scarlett? Deep breaths," Nora's distant voice called out to me and I could feel her softly take one of my hands off my ears and place it against her heart.

"Simply put, Nora was a slave that she bought on the dark web! Nora listened to everything she said. Not only that, but she's also thinking of buying a middle-aged woman who looks like Laura Jensen!" Avery's ankles went weak when she heard those words.

It rushed up my core and filled my chest, I couldn't contain it and the scream rippled from me in waves as I slammed my fist into the table. “My King?” I stood heaving, trying to control these fucking voices and the screaming but they were multiplying, screaming her name and taunting me with her tortured pleas for help. The door closed behind her and I heard her take a careful step inside. “You called on me,” I turned and looked at Nora. The robe hugged her curves and the heels clicked against the floor. Part of her hair was tied back and the rest of it fell down her back. She scanned my face with worrisome eyes and drew a shaky breath.

I release time. Sound slams back into place. The hum roars. The cashier gasps. The robber’s breath tears loose. The world rushes forward unaware it was held. The gun remains trained forward. Nora steps into the aisle. She does not rush. She does not plead. She walks as if she belongs there. “Hey,” she says gently. The robber’s grip tightens when she speaks. “Don’t come closer.” “I won’t,” she replies, stopping where she stands. Her hands remain visible. Empty.

Vivienne Cabot was extraordinary in a polished, finished way, and standing next to Dominic she looked like the correct answer to a question about what his life was supposed to contain. Nora looked at the photographs longer than was useful. Then she closed the browser entirely, put on her running shoes, and went out into the October dark. Three miles. The playlist she used when she needed to outrun a thought heavy beat, no lyrics she could follow, the sonic equivalent of a white noise machine. She came back sweating and steadier and she showered and ate and sat on her fire escape with a blanket and called her mother. "How's work?" her mother asked.