The Book Rebecca Novels & Stories

Rebecca I had never seen a house so grand and magnificent. The moment Collins and I stepped out of his car, I could almost feel the cold breeze of wealth wash over me as my eyes landed on the Hart family mansion. “You look adorable,” he said, admiring me as we stepped out of the car. “Darling, I don't want you to protect me as if I can't speak for myself. This is the first time I'm meeting your entire family.” “How many times are you going to repeat that?”

I still don’t know who this woman is or why she says I’m hers. “So, what exactly made you so heartless?” Rebecca asks on our third day of nothing, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance up at her as I page through a spell book. “When you say heartless, what exactly do you mean?” I know exactly what she means, but I want to hear her say it.

It left her feeling horrible about herself. "Thanks for the warning, but what should I expect?" Hope against hope that Ben could circumvent the long search and reading ahead of her. Rebecca perched on a metal shelving rack in the small storage room. Things like this baffled her. Who spent this much time and effort minding the business of a fictional character?

Ava said as I nodded. "I just need to charm this woman and act smitten by her and in no time she'll fall for me. Then I can propose. Order me a ring, your choice one she wouldn't be able to say no to." I said as Ava picked up her tablet by her side and starts shopping online. "Tell me about this woman?" The little I know about her would work in my favour. “Rebecca Marlowe. Daughter of Elijah and Annabelle Marlowe. She’s a practicing lawyer working at her father’s firm. Twenty-seven. Never been in a relationship. Extremely shy, doesn’t drink, and conservative in her ways.” Ava rattled off.

She kicks off her heels, rolling her neck. She stops when she sees it. On her bedside table, sitting alone under the lamp, is a small, rectangular package, wrapped in plain brown paper. Tied with twine. It looks out of place in this room of silk and velvet. Eve frowns as she picks it up, turning it over in her hands. I watch her from the foot of the bed, feeling a strange, foreign tightening in my chest. A vulnerability I despise. I saw the book in a Sotheby’s catalog weeks ago and knew I had to get it for her. Rebecca. First edition. Signed by du Maurier.

And I wondered if she was even aware of what Luke was playing at. It may have been the alcohol, but everything that the man seemed to do was downright sensual and very inviting. And I slowly, I was falling for that charm. Never once in my wildest dream did I ever think I would look at a man with blonde hair and want to bed him right there and then. But then Luke… “I can assure you, Miss Brown…” Rebecca, the blonde with red lips and hazel eyes said with a dazzling smile. “I am not a reader myself but when that book came out, I just had to get myself a copy.” She countered, and I forced a smile.

The rest of the women appeared to be past their forties. “Welcome ladies, to the time of your life” A voice rang out, pulling the silence around, with the figure of a lady sauntering into the room. She appeared exquisite. Hair styled to perfection, bold red lips, holding a smile, the sound of heels clicking was all my ears caught onto while she made her way in. “I’m Adriana” She introduced. *** “Ladies!” The voice of Adriana fell into my ears, with her figure moving around the room, eyes skimming through every figure she bypassed.

With one glance around, she slips into the recliner and downloads the next book in the series. The large mahogany grandfather clock in the hall chimes its tune. It's only chimed three times since she started reading. The tune echoes up through the house and reverberates through her ears. Staring at the words The End on the Kindle in her lap, she blinks in disbelief. She has finished the remaining three books in the series, in record time according to the percentage statistics on the Kindle. Her eyes flew across the pages at record speed and yet, she can still recall every line with insane precision, every plot twist connects. It seems that all her cognitive processing is moving at an incredi

My college notes, books, and notebooks—completely destroyed, pages ripped—formed a trail of devastation across the floor. “Finally, the little whore decided to show her face.” Rebecca’s voice echoed in the heavy silence of the apartment. In one hand, she held a kitchen knife; in the other, a rag that had once been one of the dresses Amy had given me with such care. “Miss Rebecca Shaw, what do you think you’re doing?” Harry’s tone, though low and controlled, was laced with rage. “I’m taking out the trash.” Rebecca toyed with the knife, swinging the blade back and forth. “Now all that’s left is to eliminate the pests.”