The Becoming Nora Roberts Novels & Stories

No one else could have slipped through the protective wards without triggering alarms, but Nora had always been the exception not just to the rules of this place, but to every carefully constructed belief I had once held. She stood with her back to me, half-illuminated by the glow of a floating orb light hovering near her shoulder. Books were scattered across the long table in front of her, some open, others sealed with ancient wax and forgotten sigils. Her fingers trembled as she traced the faded ink of a map. Her eyes, when she glanced up at my approach, were sharp, wary, and far too tired. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she said without preamble, like I was just another problem she

Zara said softly before letting Nora push forward. Nora’s body cracked and shifted back into human form. She stood up in the grass, sharp little pieces of tigs digging into her feet. She slipped back on her clothing that she snuck out with. She took a deep breath and shook her arms, trying to shake away the nervousness coursing through her. She took a step out onto the tar and her stomach sank. She reminded herself what she needed to do and what she was trying to prevent as she made her way towards the city.

Settling on making a quick omelet, I gathered eggs, cheese, and some leftover vegetables. As I whisked the eggs, my mind wandered back to the past couple of days. I wondered if Grace was asleep right now, or sitting up feeling scared and lonely. Tomorrow, I would prepare a meal for her, I decided. And maybe bring her a few of those books I had purchased. “Midnight snack, Kayla?” I jumped at the sound of the voice, nearly dropping the bowl. Turning, I saw Nora leaning casually against the doorway, her arms crossed and a smug smile playing on her lips. She was dressed impeccably, as always, in a silk robe that accentuated her slim figure.

That was when fate, finally, knocked on the door a second time. The sound of creaking hinges made every head turn again. The silence that followed was absolute—the kind of silence that precedes a natural disaster. Nora walked into the hall. She wore no silk, no lace, and no jewelry. She wore a simple dark suit, and her face bore the expression of someone who had crossed through hell and returned only to claim what was rightfully hers. Her eyes didn’t seek the cameras, nor my family, nor the judge. They fixed with a hunter’s precision, on Warren.

By the time Nora started to show, I already had answers. Not all of them. That would’ve been impossible. But enough to narrow the chaos into something I could work with. Nora stood near the open window of the main hall, one hand resting absentmindedly over the curve of her stomach as she listened to Elias explain something about energy fluctuations in the southern ward lines. The late afternoon light hit her just right, catching in her hair, warming her skin, and making the faint shift in her silhouette impossible to ignore now.

Third Person Point-of-View Lucas stumbled into the emergency room in a daze, wanting to see Nanette one last time, but the same doctor reached out to stop him. "Sir, Ms. Newman's body has already been cremated. Her ashes were taken by her secretary. You can contact her." Lucas' ears were filled with a roaring sound, but the first thing he felt was, strangely, calmness. With trembling hands, he took out his phone. "Lucas, what's wrong?"

Soft footsteps, the faint creak of a mattress, a drawer opening, fabric shifting. I carefully nudged the door open a bit and peered inside. Nora stood by my bed, lifting the corner of the mattress with one hand while sliding something underneath with the other. Her entire demeanor had changed, gone was the gentle sister, replaced by someone sharp, precise, and cold. She wasn’t even being subtle about it. I waited until she smoothed the blanket back into place, then I pushed the door open fully. “Here’s your…” I lifted an empty glass meaningfully, “Oh. You don’t want it anymore?”

Thousands of employees were suddenly working for a company that had no leaders. I leaned back in the chair, feeling a strange flutter in my stomach. It wasn't the baby—not yet—but a sense of vertigo. I had spent so long trying to survive Jason’s world that I hadn't prepared for what happened when that world stopped existing. --- Nora walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a borrowed sweatshirt that was three sizes too big for her. Without the expensive clothes and the perfect hair Jason had forced on her, she looked exactly like what she was: a young woman who had been robbed.

Her hair was caught in a low knot against the back of her neck, wisps framing her sweet, innocent, enthralling face. She was exquisite! Norah was a prize, a weapon, a lethal substance. And she was something he was craving for. Badly! His libido was becoming a monster, first hooked by spending nearly every moment with her for the past forty-eight hours, then feeling her absence while she was preparing for the party and he was preparing the press conference.

NARRATOR In a gorgeous private restaurant with an incredible view of the city, two people were having lunch at an elegant table for two as they chatted mainly about business. Opposite Rock was a glamorous looking woman, who seemed to be in her early forties. She was no other person but Nora Jones. She was a famous renowned actress and the CEO of Nora cosmetics. She was also the author of Hidden Secrets; The Heart of Man. This is a book that was as widely known as its author.