Nora Roberts Latest Novels Novels & Stories

It was the sound of Rain. ​Real, cold, rhythmic rain hitting a tin roof. ​Nora opened her eyes. She wasn't wearing velvet. She was wearing a worn-out, oversized sweatshirt. She wasn't in a Hamptons estate. She was in a small, cramped apartment filled with the smell of cheap coffee and old books. ​She sat at a wooden desk. On the desk was a laptop, its screen glowing in the dim light. ​[300,452 WORDS. STATUS: COMPLETE.]

Charlotte’s POV It was a dreary, rainy day; the perfect day to stay inside, reading in the library. Nora and I had made our home for the day at one of the tables in the library with cups of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies between us. She sat across from me with a history book open in front of her. She was supposed to be reading about the founding Alpha families, but instead, she kept sighing wistfully, trailing her little fingers across the page.

, she replied. The woman, apparently unfazed by Mr. Samuels's demeanor, extended her hand towards me with a gracious smile. "And who might this be?" she inquired, her gaze lingering on me with a hint of curiosity. I offered a polite smile in return, though I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me in Nora's presence. "I'm Sara," I replied evenly, careful to maintain a neutral expression. "Pleased to meet you." Nora's smile widened at my response, though there was a calculating glint in her eyes that didn't escape my notice. "Sara, how lovely," she remarked, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. "I'm Nora Roberts, a friend of Zack's."

"Tell me where your men took my children, Pablo." Pablo frowned slightly, a brief flicker of confusion crossing his disciplined features. "I don't know what you're talking about. My orders are to secure you and bring you back upstairs to the Alpha. That's it." "Liar!" she screamed, the sound tearing from her throat, bouncing off the concrete pillars. At just twenty-three, Nora had lived through more betrayal and heartbreak than most wolves endured in a lifetime. She had clawed her way up from the dirt, built a life, and protected her blood. She refused to let them strip it all away in a dirty, concrete basement.

The kind she herself had cultivated by becoming unreachable, untouchable, a ghost. “I went for a walk, Elijah,” she said calmly. “The city is still there. And so am I.” She turned to Elnora, who was watching her with cautious hope, like someone witnessing the return of a familiar shape after a long absence. “You were right, Nora,” Robbin said quietly. “I was eroding. But I’ve found the bedrock.” In her office, Robbin opened a folder on her desk. Its label was simple, deliberate: The Foundation Ledger.

Standing up, David turns to walk away, leaving her alone to gather her thoughts. Nora finds herself alone in the confines of her small bedroom, her gaze fixed upon the walls as her mind drifts into the memories of the Nashville brothers. Despite their undeniable handsomeness and the allure of their dreamlike qualities, she struggles to fully believe that she will soon be wedded to one of them. The stark contrast between their privileged upbringing as the wealthy children of David Nashville and her own humble origins as the daughter of a gardener weighs heavily on her.

The sun had already set by the time I finished work. Jaime always called this place a remote village. Every minute here felt like torture to her. I thought she would not be able to stand it and would leave. To my surprise, she waited outside my office door. When she saw me, she stood up at once and hurried to my side. “Joseph, you still haven’t told me what happened. Did your mother really die?” I stopped walking and looked at her. A cold laugh escaped me. “My mother died. Isn’t that what you wanted? Your mother’s so‑called killer finally paid the price. Are you satisfied now?”

NARRATOR In a gorgeous private restaurant with an incredible view of the city, two people were having lunch at an elegant table for two as they chatted mainly about business. Opposite Rock was a glamorous looking woman, who seemed to be in her early forties. She was no other person but Nora Jones. She was a famous renowned actress and the CEO of Nora cosmetics. She was also the author of Hidden Secrets; The Heart of Man. This is a book that was as widely known as its author.

The lights were too bright, and for a fleeting second, her practiced smile faltered. “Nora,” the interviewer began — a woman with hair so precise it might’ve been carved, and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s been two years since The Paper House — your third novel, the one that cemented your reputation in psychological thrillers. A runaway hit, optioned for film before it even left the bestseller list. A phenomenal success. Yet… we’re still waiting for book four. Your fans are eager.”