Penelope Ward Novels & Stories

“I’ve attended Velvet’s circles far longer than anyone ‘Ms. Vale.’ And I know you more personally than you’d like.” Dorian’s posture stiffened further. His gaze flicked to Isolde for permission. Her eyes remained wide, resolute. Let him listen, they said. “Dorian,” Isolde said, tone low. “This is not part of my infiltration plan.” “I suspected as much,” Dorian said, examining the stranger. “Explain.” The woman smoothed her gloves. “I’m Penelope Hart.” She paused, watching Isolde. “We grew up together London, 5 Elm Tree Crescent.” Her voice cracked with nostalgia. “Middle school musicals, family soirées…”

A woman stood there, smiling at her and signaling for her to come up. She frowned. Who was that? Deciding to find out, she climbed up to the place the woman stood. On meeting her, the woman's smile widened. “Hello, you're among the staff of Dawnat?” Penelope nodded, “Yes I am.” “What's your name?” the woman asked fondly, “I'm Agnes Flores.” Penelope took a second, before saying, “Penelope. Penelope Adams.” “Okay, good,” the woman sighed softly. Then said, “The thing is…all I wanted to advise you was for you to be careful.”

I responded when is saw the happy smiles on the faces of the children. Penelope was a dark-haired lady with Hazel eyes. She worked as the CEO of the new company and we had bonded over the past few years while making plans, we were nothing close to being actual friends, but we were acquaintances with benefits. After what seemed like a while, I sighed and got up, I had other things to do and they could not wait, the day had just begun after all.

he grabbed Penelope by the face and kissed her, it felt like forever. I cleared my throat, drawing their attention, and he turned to me with a beaming smile. As he left, my gaze met Penelope's stunning brown eyes. Her radiant smile revealed a captivating confidence that made her resemble a masterpiece from an art gallery. With her fiery red curls cascading around her, she stood at an impressive 5'6" with curvaceous features. We were of similar height, but she possessed an aura that dominated the room, Penelope lived life fearlessly, not caring about other's opinions. In that moment. I couldn't help but envy her incredible life and magnetic personality.

It’s more like the generic hold music you get when you call customer service, pleasant enough, but you’re just waiting for it to end. My name is Penelope Jones. Everyone calls me Penny, probably because “Penelope” sounds like someone who owns a yacht and knows which fork to use for salad. I do not own a boat. I own approximately seven pairs of scrubs, a coffee maker that’s on its last legs, and a laptop that’s seen more werewolf smut than any piece of technology should have to endure.

“You okay?” “Mm-hmm.” “You’ve been staring at that paragraph for ten minutes.” I smiled faintly. “Just thinking.” “About him?” she asked carefully. “About both of them,” I admitted. She sighed but didn’t push. We’d had this conversation too many times. It wasn’t until later, when the sun dipped behind the buildings, that Jessy gasped and pointed at the TV. “Oh my god, Haven—look!” The news anchor’s voice filled the room: “…and rising author Haven Thorne’s debut novel, The Glass Garden, continues to top charts nationwide…”

If he didn't get that his shirts looked terrible and that they made him look like a dork, I would be the one to do so. Later in the day, I, Jane and Penelope, a girl with a massive crush on Martin who frequently spoke to us, prepared for gym class. Penelope was a total nerd complete with thick glasses like Martin.. She always kept her black hair in low pigtails and she had thick braces with a colourful design. She was one of the most picked on students by Vance and every other bully in school for being fat, but she never allowed it to get to her–well that was how she made it seem. Rumour had it that she had tried to kill herself once. I didn't know if that was true or not, but I didn't care

“Yeah. Me too. She’s not back for anything good. That I’m certain of.” My eyes stayed locked on Penelope across the boutique. She was holding up a sheer black robe now, turning it this way and that under the light, completely unbothered. She looked like she belonged here—confident, entitled, unbothered. But I knew better. Women like Penelope didn’t just “shop for lingerie” on a Tuesday because their ex was in town. They schemed. They calculated. They waited for the perfect moment to strike. One thing was clear: she was back in Philadelphia. And she was back for a reason.

She looked toward the entrance, and for a moment our eyes met through the glass. The impact was immediate. My wolf went crazy, pacing and whining in my mind. Penelope’s awakened bloodline had intensified everything about her. Her scent carried on the wind and made my hands shake. “Ice Cream Uncle?” Debbie’s voice brought me back to the present. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” I managed. “Just admiring your mother’s work.” Nathan’s expression was dangerous. “Admiring. Right.” The facility door opened again. Penelope emerged. She wore practical training clothes that emphasized her athletic build. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, and her posture was straight.

Noel led Penelope with a hand on her waist to a table. It was hard not to gawk when they were sharing their table with Margaret Freeman, a popular holder of one the seats in the British Parliament, Diane Hickenlooper, a Class 1 US senator, Lazaros Plapoutas, a Greek socialite, a handsome man with a charming smile who held Penny's hand and her gaze a second too long, and several others, some of whom she did not even recognize. There was an air of importance and wealth around them and suddenly she felt insufficient even after all her efforts at creating a comfortable life for herself.