Taking A Shower With Mom Novels & Stories

Ten years ago, the Harrington family went through a home invasion. My mother, a maid, shielded Liam with her life. Holding my hands tight, Liam promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever." I believed him. Our bond grew naturally, and we had a beautiful daughter together. Then, she was diagnosed with leukemia. In her last days, all she wanted was to spend one birthday with her dad. I called him, desperate to make it happen. "Millie doesn't have much time left. All she wants is one birthday with you. Can you come?" His voice on the other end went icy. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting." I tried to deny it, but he cut me off. "Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart." That night, our daughter passed away. Later, Vivian posted on social media: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just texted Liam: [We're done.]

Reese agreed to marry Troy, thinking their feelings were mutual. It turned out that he only used her to get close to her mother, Mandy. When she went home after taking care of her mother-in-law, who pretended to be sick, she caught her mom and husband in their marital bed. She exacted revenge by having a one-night stand with a stranger, who happened to be the wealthiest man in town, and the business partner of her unknown biological father, Vincent. The chaos escalated when Reese discovered that the billionaire, Lorenzo Carter, intended to marry her twin sister, Candice, with whom she thought her son was Enzo's. Overwhelmed, she fled to escape the painful memories, unaware of her own pregnancy. By chance, she encountered a woman who proposed a modeling career, which flourished until her pregnancy was revealed. Faced with pressure to choose between her rising career and her unborn child, Reese stood at life's crossroads, contemplating the profound decision before her. When Lorenzo Carter found her, he proposed marriage, but sadly, she had no memory of him. Utilizing his influence, he persuaded her to agree to the contract marriage. Once successful, he endeavored to make her remember him and to reignite her love for him.

My mom believed in one thing above all else: being number one. To achieve that, she created a strict daily schedule and even developed a monitoring app that required us to submit reports every day. Anyone who failed to rank first according to the app's evaluation would be tied to a chair and severely punished. No matter how difficult the task was, my younger brother, Jason Hunt, could always complete it and receive a perfect score. Even when he actually ranked last, the monitoring software would still display him in first place. As for me, a single misspelled word was enough to trigger a failing warning from the app, followed immediately by my mom's harsh punishment. At first, I tried to explain. Later, I stayed silent. In the end, I could only kneel and beg. My mom remained unmoved. "Trash doesn't deserve sympathy," she said coldly. "You'll thank me when you become successful in the future." On the first day of the New Year, my mom took Jason out to visit our relatives and exchange greetings. I, meanwhile, was burning with a high fever and could not even finish the day's assignments. Ignoring my illness, my mom dragged me into a bathtub filled with ice. "If you're trying to escape studying, you don't deserve to live," she said. "Pretending to be sick? If you've got the guts, then just die already." She forced my head underwater and raised a rod, smashing it against my skull again and again. I begged desperately for mercy, but it was futile. My mom left with Jason, and I curled up alone on the floor. She was right. Only those who work hard deserve to live.

My pup Asher had been sick for six months. Every time I personally cared for him, he became even sicker. I finally believed the witch's prophecy: I was cursed. My very existence would harm my own pup. I went to the moon temple and prayed that the moon goddess would lift the curse and ensure my pup's safety. From then on, my Alpha mate Damon brought Asher up the mountain every day to see me. Hundreds of miles of mountain road. They made the trip over a thousand times. Our bond never faded with the distance. Until today. A group of rogues broke into the Sanctuary and pushed me down the stone steps. I called Damon all night. No one answered. Then I received an anonymous video. Damon knelt in front of a woman, kissing her swollen belly. Asher stood next to them, grinning ear to ear. "I'm gonna have a brother! Aunt Serena, your pregnancy must have been so tough. Me and Dad will be your knights forever." He turned to Damon, his young face bright with pride. "Dad, I faked being sick pretty well, right? Pretending to feel awful every day, tricking Mom into taking me to the Healer over and over. They never found anything wrong, and she really believed that curse stuff. Went up the mountain all on her own." "But what if Mom finds out? Won't she be mad?" Damon didn't seem worried. "Don't worry. I've got the whole mountain sealed off. She won't find out." Only then did I understand. Everything had been a lie, planned by my mate and my son. I turned around and knocked over the Hope Flame that I had lit for Asher without hesitation. This flame was lit at the cost of my wolf’s strength, offered to the Moon Goddess so that she might bless Asher with health. Through the flames, a familiar figure sprinted toward me.

I, Taylor Laurent, go to the hospital's emergency department because of severe abdominal pain. When I wake up, my mom, Jocelyn Nord, stares at me in terror and asks, "You are not my daughter. Who are you?" Helpless and regretful, Hank Gibson, the doctor, says to my mom, "She is your daughter, it's just… an accident." My mom can't accept it and jumps off the hospital building, killing herself instantly. Hank is suspended because of this incident and, under my questioning, chooses to kill himself by hitting a wall. When I finally find my life partner and take the premarital medical exam, the staff tells me something that chills me to my bones.

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

I am a doctor who specializes in treating infertility. People liked to joke and call me the "Life-Bringer." By day, I worked at the hospital, handling the toughest, most puzzling cases. By night, I used something called the Spirit Bride Rite, a long-lost ritual from ancient times to preserve a man's ability to have children, even after he had just passed. It was a method that went against nature and drained me dry, so I didn't take just any job. I worked for the wealthy. My starting fee was 600 thousand dollars. That day, I had barely taken a sip of champagne at a client's grandson's baby shower before an urgent request came in. If I counted right, this would be my 17th husband.

Eight years after my boyfriend’s mom made us break up, that strong-willed, wealthy woman suddenly showed up again. “After you left, Nigel’s hair turned white overnight. He’s been in and out of mental hospitals so many times… “Please, come back. If you don’t, he might die!” I touched the scar on my forehead and gave a bitter smile. “But I’m no longer young or pretty.” She got on her knees and begged, “If you come back, I’ll give you ten million to help pay for your mom’s treatment, no matter what happens.” For my sick mom, I decided to return to Nigel Jefferson. “But now that I’m no longer pretty… would he still love me?”

Three years after I died, Stella, my wife, decided to divorce me and marry her dying ex. She stormed into my old house like she owned the place, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Mom told her the truth—I was already gone. Stella rolled her eyes. "Why's he still pretending? Harvey's dying. I just wanna be there for him. What's so wrong about that? If he won't come out, I'm done paying your medical bills." She thought threatening Mom would shake something loose. But what Stella didn't get? Mom had already stopped treatment. She was just hanging on to watch her crack.

[MATURE CONTENT] Warning: Skip of you are not a fan of mature romance. Faced with a choice between blaming my stepfather Jason or stepbrother Ethan for the life growing inside me, I felt the weight of Jason's ominous threats—stay silent or risk my mom's life. “Chelsea,who is responsible for this pregnancy?” my Mom asked. I stood there, tears welling in my eyes, torn between the truth and the suffocating weight of shame. "Mom, I'm really sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking, as tears streamed down my cheeks. Unable to endure the guilt, I ran away from home, leaving my mother to search for me, only to tragically meet with an accident in her pursuit. HAPPY READING