Nora Smith Book Novels & Stories

Nora, I know you think you’ve won. I know you think you can just walk away into Damien Vance’s world and pretend the last seven years never happened. But I still have everything. I have your old personal journals from the house on Elm Street. I have the rough drafts of your early designs, the private financial tracking sheets you kept when we were struggling, and the personal notes you wrote about your family. I have already talked to a freelance publisher who is willing to buy the rights to the entire archive. They want the real story of Nora Vance—the desperate, broke artist who kept double books while her marriage fell apart.

“You and the book nerd looked pretty cozy.” Otto’s jaw tightened. He slipped the card into his pocket before turning to face his friend. “Her name is Nora, and she’s a bestselling author now. You might want to show some respect.” Luke blinked, taken aback by Otto’s sharp tone. “Whoa, easy. I was just asking.” “Well, now you know.” Otto drained his whiskey and set the glass down with more force than necessary. “And for the record, I always thought she was smart as hell. That’s more than I can say for some people.”

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 didn't fight the new authors with violence; she fought them with Style. ​Nora closed her eyes and reached for the "Midnight Blue" essence of Chapter 1. She didn't want the world’s versions of her; she wanted the version that belonged only to the man who first looked at her across a ballroom. ​The Brooklyn bookstore dissolved. The smell of dust and printer ink was replaced by the scent of Oud, Vintage Champagne, and Rain-Slicked Marble. ​The Return to the Penthouse ​When Nora opened her eyes, she was standing in the center of the Grand Ballroom of the Vane Estate in the Hamptons.

I felt him press a quick kiss to my shoulder, then shift to sit up. “Come in,” he called, voice still rough with sleep. Nora entered quietly, closing the door behind her. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all—pale, eyes shadowed, clutching a small leather-bound book against her chest like it might shatter if she held it too loosely. Her mother’s grimoire. She stopped at the foot of the bed, gaze flicking between us. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” she said, “but this couldn’t wait.”

Matt and Adam looked at each other and got quiet trying to listen to the conversation. “I don't know if Nora has a wolf or is one but her ancestors were until they were cursed. It's the ultimate Romeo and Juliet scenario but unlike Romeo and Juliet, Juilett kills Romeo and forgets she loved him. You’ll have to do some research on your own about Nora. This is all the book has.” Thomas said. “Ok Thank you. I will send for the information and book shortly.” Jace said, ending the call.

Smith looks up and smiles brightly at me. “Hey, Lucia. How are you?” “I…I’m fine.” I don’t know what to say for a moment. “What…what are you doing here?” Mrs. Smith laughs. “It’s a bookstore, and I like to read. What’s wrong with that?” “I…I just…” “Anyway, it’s more for Regina. She wanted to come back and get a few more books. I think she’s finished all the books she got before.”

Seraphina said and Nora scoffed. "The burial ceremony of Doctor Smith went well, I came straight from the burial site to your apartment. I don't just want to go back home with that dickhead, he is becoming so annoying with the restrictions and monitoring spirits he placed on me. He doesn't even want me to go visit Rufus for any reason," Nora explained feeling so frustrated and Seraphina sighed as she sat beside her.

And that alone made her worth keeping an eye on. Especially since I had a feeling things were only starting to heat up. The second I closed the book, I knew I wasn’t going to find anything in its pages. Theory was good, sure, but instinct always trumped it when it came to people. And Nora Carver was not a concept to be parsed and dissected. She was a spark that needed striking, and I wanted to be close enough when it happened. I slid the book into my satchel and stood, not in a rush but with purpose. Most people didn’t pay attention to who roamed where, but I did. Especially the girls who pretended not to hang on my every word.

She carried herself with a power I envied and swayed her hips from side to side while putting her glass down on a table on her way. Where is she going? She headed around the pillar and towards the door where Darian and the council members had walked off. When I leaned to the side I saw that that was exactly where she was going and Mrs. Smith was holding the door open for her with a feral scowl. Once Nora was inside the room, Mrs. Smith closed the door and locked it with one of the keys on her massive keychain before she put it back in the pouch on her plaid dress. She walked away like the mere existence of the joyfulness in the room was causing her to rot and the scowl, which I thought could