Rosalie Cullen Novels & Stories

"Eloise did work my butt off but it was worth it. She might be ice cold but she respects me and was very kind to help me grow my connections." Tamara scoffed, rolling her eyes at Rosie's always kind attitude. "She was cruel, Rosie. Nevertheless, I am insanely proud of you." Some of Rosie's artwork was going to be displayed in one of the local art galleries. It was a big moment for her, a huge step in her career. Technically, the first big move into the start of her promising career. "Th-" "Amour, is your cousine here?" The door to Rosie's apartment opened. A tall and handsome french man walked in, his accent thick but beautiful. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Says here she is deceased.” “Does it have a pic?” Asrar asked running his hands through his hair. Avalon enlarged the picture on her tablet before passing it over. Asrar saw it and knew right away she was the women. Those emerald green eyes where the replica of the girls. Avalon gently took back the tablet as she ran some pictures through the school basses till she found one from a high school back in Gastin. She rotated the tablet to him and he nearly buckled looking at her. The beauty he saw at the airport was right there. “Rosalie Brightale.” Avalon spoke as she tried to find anything else but nothing. “She graduated in Gastin but never went to college.”

The racket she was making annoyed the woman in the room so much that she got out of bed, pulled up the straps of her tank top over her shoulders, and opened the door. The moment Cynthia saw the woman outside the door, she stood stunned. She surveyed Rosalie from head to toe and smirked, as if realizing what was going on. She leaned casually against the door frame, and said, “Well, isn’t this Rosalie? What brings you here? Dressed like a waitress, to boot.” “Cynthia Zeller, do you know that Theodore and I are not yet divorced? How shameless you are!” Rosalie exclaimed through gritted teeth, clenching her fists.

she replied. "Nothing much... Means something happened," I said. "Well... I'll be fucking someone today," she replied making me choke on my spit. "You'll be doing what?" I asked like I had not just heard what she said. "You heard me right," she replied. "But.... What about your mate?" I questioned. "Look... Rosie. I'm an Omega. I accept my fate that my mate may probably never accept me when he realizes who I am," she responded. " So ... It's best I enjoy my life before I get old."

Alpha Lorenzo's voice came to a growl and Rosalie shivered fearfully. "Y-yes, Alpha. P-please trust me w-when I say that I k-know her." She shuttered. "Her name is Tinsely Keegan and we both leave together with her younger sister." She said. "She has a younger sister?" Alpha Lorenzo asked, and he cursed himself for not knowing that much about the woman he claimed to be his mate. "Y-yes, Alpha!" Rosalie nods at him. Even though they were meeting for the first time she knew he was Alpha Lorenzo Rochester, the most powerful alpha and a famous billionaire.

I walked up to her, my voice low, shaking slightly. “Ms. Rossi?” I called out. The woman turned, her dark eyes, sharp and smart, looking at me up like I meant nothing. A faint, rude smile played on her lips. “And you are?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m Imogen Cullen. Perry’s wife,” I stated, my voice firm. Ms. Rossi’s smile didn’t drop, in fact, it got wider, showing perfect, white teeth. “Ah, yes! The wife. Well, what can I do for you, Mrs. Cullen?” Her voice was full of scorn.

She looked up at Shane. “Mrs Rosaline Swan. That’s the woman you’re looking at.” “Mrs Rosaline?” Salma looked closely at the footage. “She planted the bombs in Hilda’s and Brianna’s homes,” Shane said. “She was contacted several times by this number.” He showed her a printout of Mrs Rosaline's call log, pointing out the numbers. “We linked it to Julian Vance.” Salma looked up, shocked. “Why would Mrs Rosaline do this?”

She decides to pretend to be occupied with her phone. Nothing like a hundred watchful gazes to make one uncomfortable in their own skin. Rosalie had a lighter complexion, compared to her father who had a stunning gingerbread complexion. She has neat brows arched above her round eyes. A freckle dotted above her left cheekbone, a straight nose, plump dark lips, a small chin and jaw. She wears her school uniform and a pair of white sneakers. Rosalie's shiny dark hair was fastened into a ponytail. Cole adored the white bow with a rhinestone sparkling; in its center, and pinned neatly to the base of her ponytail. Rosalie was like a princess…

"Arabella Jacks?" "Present!" I raised my hand and straightened my binder. I heard the door click open, and as my gaze drifted upward to the visitor, I opened my notebook and grabbed my pencil. "Sorry to interrupt." The principal had stepped into the room. With him were three strikingly beautiful students. "We've got some new students this quarter. Please make them feel welcome." He smiled and then handed a file of papers. "Very well. Go ahead and find seats." smiled kindly to the three new students. "Class, this is Rosalie Halen, Emmett Cullen, and Edward Cullen."

she whispered; Luciana couldn’t answer, foam on her lips, eyes glassed over Rosalie cried that night cried hard then buried the dress she wore in the garden and burned the carpet with her own hands. That should’ve been the end of it but it never is, is it? Because someone else had been watching Luciana. Someone who’d never been touched by her but would’ve killed to be near her. A man in Chicago, a remnant of Capone’s legacy, a man who still sat at the long table of The Outfit. He’d watched Luciana dance once in a Chicago speakeasy and never looked at another woman again, never touched her, never dared Until he saw her name in the obituaries cause of death: cardiac arrest. He knew better and