Ten Rose Novels & Stories

“Are you serious?” “Not as serious as Lover Boy is!” She steps aside. Right on cue, several men and women in uniform march in carrying vases of blood red roses, a large box tied with velvet ribbon, and yet another prenatal-packed smoothie with an itemized label of every ingredient slapped on the side. Okay. I might be enjoying the attention a little bit. Just the teensiest, tiniest little bit. “How many roses this time?” Hazel lets out a low whistle as she does a quick count. “Four dozen. And the expensive kind. Don’t these last a whole year?”

Rotating the necklace she found words engraved on it. 'Roses are beautiful. The spirit of the Roseate will always guide you on the 10th." Beneath the quote was her name. Iris. What the heck is Roseate? This revelation shocked Iris. Is this the time her memories will come back? The number 10 seems to be a clue but she does not know what it is. Giving her a new hope Medicia was right her memories will be coming back. She must keep the necklace hidden for now or else someone might take it away. It was dark outside so she went out of the bed then proceeded to the library. Hoping to get some answers in one of the books.

Rose held fourth Rose, 22 years old, who hated billionaires, holding £240B baby who has two hospitals and three buildings for strollers and 1000 Dior pajamas and 1000 white rose bushes, crying: "Fourth Rose... you are here... on Valentine's Day... 999 roses day... you are fourth Rose... Rose Ashford-Blackwood-Carter... who will hate billionaires..." Leo, in holy Primark hoodie, three holes, tears, kneeling, put ear to baby, not bump now, baby real, and whispered: "Fourth Rose, it's Dada, Primark Dada with three holes, holy hoodie Dada, you are here, you are real, not banana, not watermelon, Rose, fourth Rose..."