The Becoming Nora Roberts Novels & Stories

Forty-three Nora Connolly She was going to help Winter take back The Night Coven. There was still a lot about magic that she didn’t understand. But she liked the idea of helping her cousin get what was rightfully hers. The Night Coven wasn’t her world. She’d stumbled into it by accident. Even though her family had been part of it, they had run from it. And she had to think that there was a reason for that. Still, she would do whatever it took to help get it back from Merrick. Nora stood in front of the grimoire, staring at it.

I pleaded, desperately peeling his hand off mine and swiftly walking away. As I hurriedly made my way towards the office I had been directed to, I couldn't shake off the nagging thought that if that guy was indeed a worker there, how could he afford such an extravagantly expensive car? Pushing the question aside, I made my way to the receptionist. "Hi I'm Nora Roberts, I was told to resume today" I said to the beautiful blonde lady who looked nice. She returned my smile and searched through some files as she spoke "Oh you're the new Personal Assistant to Mr Nathaniel Lockhart"

“Rebecca has Castillo, the name, the child, everything—and I will take it all.” Her phone buzzed again. [Your face is ready. Just waiting for the surgery schedule. You need to be mentally prepared.] Nora quickly typed a reply. [I’m ready. After this, I won’t be Nora anymore.] She looked at her reflection in the window. “Names can change. But the goal stays the same.” Nora began drafting her list: Gain the attention of Rebecca’s inner circle Secretly approach Samuel Expose Rebecca’s dark secrets Take over Castillo through legal loopholes Free her father and mother

As I drove ahead, Nora's building came into view which was one of those glass towers in the estate, the kind of structure that cost more than most people earned in a year. I used to know this address by heart because I used to come here for different reasons while we had something going, anyways I pushed that thought away before it could settle in my mind. I arrived, parked my range rover in the car lot and headed toward Nora's door. I shouldn't have been doing this, but I had to. I came to the door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Then she answered from behind the door, like she'd been expecting someone. Nora stood in the doorway wearing a silk robe, the color of champagne, her dark

Sara asked hesitantly, the weight of her new responsibility sinking in. “Of course me,” Margaret said, a flicker of panic crossing her face. “I… I taught her myself. Your mother is… good, but first you need a makeover.” Sara nodded, understanding immediately. Back in the mountains, she’d dressed simply, carelessly. But now… she had to become Cara Johnson the model, the celebrity, the persona the world recognized.

Here, miles away from the silver-tipped pines of my nightmare, the air tasted of damp asphalt, car exhaust, and fresh bread rather than ozone, fear, and alpha suppression. Nora was a middle-aged human woman with kind eyes and a spine made of pure steel. She owned The Morning Glaze, a small, fragrant bakery tucked into the corner of a narrow cobblestone street. She hadn't asked a single intrusive question when I showed up at her back door three weeks ago in the middle of a thunderstorm, soaking wet, badly bruised, and clutching one battered duffel bag. She had simply handed me a dry towel, a hot bowl of cinnamon porridge, and the key to the tiny attic room sitting right above her bread ovens.

The question was whether she intended to help me, use me, or simply enjoy watching me scramble for answers. "You two seem rather familiar," Nora pressed, an edge creeping into her voice. "I wasn't aware you'd become friends." "We're not friends," I said honestly. "I'm not entirely certain Morrigan has friends, in the traditional sense." "No," Nora agreed, something almost admiring slipping into her tone despite herself. "She has interests. It's rarely wise to become one of them." "Lady Nora Fairhaven." Nora's entire body seemed to unlock at once, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders as she rose with practiced grace. She paused just long enough to shoot me one final look — equal parts tr

She has learned that lesson the hard way. On the screen, Nora moves alone through the hallway toward the front door. She kisses David on the cheek just before she steps out, and promises to be back home soon. Wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Maya thinks to herself. Nora steps out holding a black leather bound book that Maya is sure is the ledger, and gets into her car. They wait a few seconds till she’s down the street, then they start their own cars and follow, a safe distance away. Nora makes several turns until she’s on a familiar street Maya knows from all the research she’s done on Nora over the years.

The man was already trembling, trying to talk his way out of whatever fate awaited him. Nora leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. She did not announce her presence immediately. She watched silently what he was going to do with the man next. Finally, she spoke. “Want a hand, Robert?” He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. His expression did not change, but she caught the flicker of an emotion. “You should not have followed me here.” “Well, here I am now,” she replied, stepping closer. “And curiosity kills cats.”

I felt him press a quick kiss to my shoulder, then shift to sit up. “Come in,” he called, voice still rough with sleep. Nora entered quietly, closing the door behind her. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all—pale, eyes shadowed, clutching a small leather-bound book against her chest like it might shatter if she held it too loosely. Her mother’s grimoire. She stopped at the foot of the bed, gaze flicking between us. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” she said, “but this couldn’t wait.”