Rachel Storm Novels & Stories

“A girl at one of my auditions mentioned it when I told her my roommate was going to be working for him. Said it’s like an open secret or whatever.” “Why didn’t you tell me!?” Again, she shrugs. “I didn’t want to discourage you.” “Holy shit, Rachel,” Mel says, shaking her head. “You could have at least warned the girl.” “Right?!” I sigh with a laugh. Rachel is an aspiring actress who faces rejection on a daily basis, so I guess she’s more used to it than I am. “Annnnnyway,” Mel says as she drags me into the kitchen. “A celebration shot for our victorious girlfriend!”

Blaire had been his anchor during this storm, always reassuring him with her quiet strength and unwavering belief in him. On a cloudy afternoon, as Damien sat at the small desk in their apartment, staring at yet another rejection email, his phone buzzed. It was Rachel. “Can we meet?” she asked, her voice low and cautious. “Somewhere quiet.” Damien was surprised but agreed. Rachel gave him the location of a small park on the edge of the city, far from the prying eyes of their father’s spies. When Damien arrived, he spotted Rachel sitting on a bench under a sprawling oak tree. She was dressed in an oversized hoodie and a long skirt, a scarf wrapped around her head to shield her identity. She g

Since she said trash about me, why not give her something to cry about, I smiled and uploaded the picture with the hashtag #Rachel Ivanov one of Canada top model, the wife of a billionaire heir Rolland Ivanov, is seen leaving a hotel with her secret lover

The voice of a woman behind me snaps me out of my musings. Rachel, Rain's older sister, her spitting image. Unmated, she keeps telling herself that Selene made a mistake by sizing Rain for her and that I am actually meant for her....

Everyone waits to hear who our new leader is and that's when all of a sudden I hear my name. "Your new Leader and Alpha of the pack is Lillian Caterina Smith." I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around and looked at the stage as everyone was turning around looking at me, I am shocked did I hear this right Am I the new alpha they named me their leader.

A small, grey haired woman seemed to appear out of thin air. “Oh my days,” she gasped, “what happened to you?” she exclaimed. “Maddie, run and fetch the doc. Apologise for the early wake up call but tell him it’s urgent.” Maddie, a young, brunette girl with freckled cheeks and a button nose, ran off to do what Lileth had asked her.

Some murmured to each other, others glanced her way with curiosity. “They’re looking at you,” Ethan whispered, his lips quivering into a small smile. “They’re looking at the dress,” Rachel corrected, her voice barely above a whisper. Before Ethan could respond, a voice called out, “Rachel! Ethan!” They turned to see Emma Stone waving at them from the grand staircase. Beside her stood Rihanna, Beyoncé, and several other A-list celebrities, each dressed in one of Rachel’s designs. The sight took Rachel’s breath away. Seeing her creations on these powerful, beautiful women felt like a dream come true.

Ethan froze as he was about to reach the door. He stared, stunned, through the glass panel. Rachel sat at the center of her group of friends, her face caked in heavy makeup—nothing like the sweet, delicate image she usually presented. She looked smug, even arrogant, as she basked in the attention. "Of course I pulled it off," she said, flipping her hair. "That old fiancee of his—Stella—joined some top-secret aerospace program. She won't be back for at least ten years."

They were anticipating the show. The guitarist performed a solo to set the mood. It was a captivating start. "Next, we have Rachel presenting 'The End of the World' for you all." Rachel, with her stunning beauty, took the stage. She instantly sparked enthusiastic cheers from the fans. Rachel's appearance was quite striking. She was mixed race, with facial features that had the deep contours of an Oslandian and the gentle charm of an Othardian. Her hourglass figure only added to her overall allure, making her incredibly captivating. It was a sight to behold. However, as Rachel began to sing… Her voice was ear-piercing!

“Oh! She’s tall. Taller than me, and she has this long—” “Ugly,” a voice cuts in. “Long, ugly, pitch black hair packed into two pony tails with two bows... and the kind of face only a mother could lie about.” Both of us freeze. That voice. That tone. Slowly, we turn. Rachel! She stands three aisles down, framed by fluorescent light and arrogance. Her wolves flank her like handpicked ornaments, three omegas dressed too neatly for a grocery errand, stepping into place beside her with performative precision.