Sherryl Woods Books Novels & Stories

After Dallion had left the room, Sherryl Rain finally stepped out of the bathroom. Looking around, her eyes fell on the fireplace where she added a log of wood and then walked over to stand at the window that faced the other side of the city’s forest edge. The dense greenery stretched across the land, hiding secrets behind its lush calm—relaxing to the eye, yet unnerving to the heart. With Grace, who had taught her the basics—reading, writing, manners—being too busy lately, Sherryl had been stuck in the penthouse suite with nowhere else to go when Dallion wasn’t around.

Let's see how she's doing. The room upstairs reeked of blood and sweat. A dim bedside lamp cast a dull reddish glow, and the air felt thick with despair. Sheryl lay face down on the bed, completely still and naked, breathing shallow and uneven. Her back was marred with raw, bloodied wounds, the marks of repeated lashes tearing through her skin. Eden turned away, unable to bear the sight. He had never liked Sheryl—her arrogance, her sharp tongue—but they had worked together. Seeing her reduced to this state stirred something uneasy in him.

She had so many sales girls and was constantly firing and recruiting new girls that it was very difficult for anyone to keep track of faces in Madame Maureen's boutique. During the first days that Kira was still coming from the convent to set up the salon, madame Maureen in her quest to find out kira’s story had managed to turn herself into a nuisance to kira, and even to Sr Geraldine who would always come by to check kira’s progress from time to time. It was clear to everyone who had eyes to see that Madame Maureen didn’t care about kira or where she came from. The only thing that held the fat woman’s attention was her trying to make sure that kira wasn’t there to sell anything that would

The staircase in my fireplace didn't take us all the way to Uncle Deagal's kingdom. That would be too easy. It took us to a forest of golden trees, trees that sparkled and shimmered. They were somehow more unnerving than a regular forest. Eventually the golden trees would bleed into silver, and there were stories about how they came to be. But until I had time to read more about them in Mother's diary, I wouldn't be able to know for sure what was real and what was false.

I should— But she didn’t want to. Not even a little. He unlocked the door and let her in first. The place smelled like old paper and wood and something that felt like *him*. She stepped inside slowly, running her fingers along the spines of books as she moved through the shelves. Mismatched heights. Handwritten notes pinned everywhere. It was messy and alive in a way her carefully designed spaces never were. She could feel him watching her from near the door. His eyes on her back. On her legs in that blue dress. It made her skin prickle. Made her nipples tighten again. Made the ache between her legs throb worse.

Gerald instantly flushed, awkwardly moved to one side, and spread his arm out to welcome us over the threshold. The front door opened straight into the open-plan living quarters. It was both more sparse than Jackson’s place and, at the same time, more cluttered. A simple two-seater navy corded couch sat under the window on the same wall as the front door. Only a pine side table and a tall bookcase completed the living room furniture. The bookcase was stuffed full—uncomfortably so—with paperbacks. I took a step closer, squinting at the titles. The majority were historical fiction by authors I recognised, but the bottom shelf appeared to be crime thrillers.

Chris I'm glad that all of this is finally over the troubles, sleepless nights all of them are gone. I still can't believe that just one woman nearly made our lives a living hell. Obsession really turned Sherly into a monster, at first I thought she liked Nicklaus but then I came to realize that she was a psycho, who's obsessed with that she can never have

“The woods!” In the distance, there was a woodland area. There was a dark aura circling it, and the moonlight appeared to be extra strong in that area. Selene, in her wolf form, sprinted as fast as she could until she reached the opening of the forest. She walked inside, she realized it wasn’t a dark aura circling the forest, it was shadows. Sitting in the center of these rapidly moving shadows, with her knees pressed to her chest and tears falling down her features, was Sheryl.

The fiery young woman's face that had first arrived at Blackwood Hall in a maelstrom of passion was not the face that she now saw in fragments of glass. Her cheeks were paler now, her eyes ringed with tiredness, but there was something else too—something the Blackwoods had not managed to put out. A dimly burning flame, smoldering in her eyes. She leaned closer, whispering to the reflection, her voice hoarse but steady: “They didn’t break you. You’re still here.” --- Shayla had just returned from the market following lunch, her arm full of a basket of fruit and bread. To be surprised by her sister dragging herself into the room was a relief.

I lie next to her and look down into her gorgeous hazel eyes. "This may surprise you, but I've never been with any woman. Shifters aren't like humans. We're repulsed even at the thought of getting intimate with anyone who isn't our mate. What about you? How many men have you been with?" I can tell she doesn't want to say, but the answer doesn't matter. "I've been with two, but the most recent was over a year ago. I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have waited." Sherri looks like she's going to cry, but I don't want her to feel ashamed.