The Wrong Mr Right Novels & Stories

I hope he rots in prison and I hope to never see his face ever again. He was nothing but a huge mistake. Matthew Bryant was my worst mistake, I wasted an entire year with the wrong guy. I loved the wrong guy, I gave him my entire heart thinking that he was the right person for me but he wasn't. He was a mistake and I can only hope that I will meet the right guy someday because I am so convinced that Matthew wasn't my soulmate. He wasn't my Mr. Right, he was the Mr. Wrong if that is even a thing.

’ Logan asked, his frustration evident. The clerk, recognising Logan’s distress, sighed before reluctantly diving into the bureaucratic abyss. ‘According to our records, you were married years ago.’ Logan’s eyes widened, his mind racing to make sense of a marriage he couldn’t remember. ‘I don’t have any recollection of being married before,’ he insisted. The clerk, empathetic to the confusion, suggested, ‘Let’s investigate further. Maybe there’s a mistake.’ As they delved into old records, the clerk dropped another bombshell. ‘You registered for marriage online with Sirena Barrett six years ago.’

Why am I always finding Mr Wrong? Surely I have dated them all - skinny boys, fat boys, still live with their mummy boys, sorry I can't stay boys and it's not you, it's me boys. When will I ever learn? And what is that damn smell? I quickly smell under my arm and then cup my hand and breathe into it, then smell. That smell would be me - holy shit. It's horrific, it's like something actually crawled into my mouth and died. How glamorous is my life?

This engagement is off. Everyone was stunned.

"Signora, calm down. Where are you? What is your location?" "I... I don't know!" I screamed, looking around the windowless room in a panic. The names of the streets Raquel had taken me down evaporated from my memory, wiped clean by the adrenaline. "Rome! I'm in Rome, in a club! It’s near the center, it has a red light on the door, it’s hidden—" The pounding on the door reached a deafening crescendo. I heard the sharp, terrifying sound of metal snapping. The top hinge of the door gave way, tilting the wood inward.

The door slammed shut with a heavy bang, followed immediately by the sharp clink of iron locks falling into place. The three of us stood there silently, staring at one another. None of us had the mood to admire the luxury of Princess Shirley's estate. Bryson was the first to break down. He collapsed onto the floor, clutching his head as he let out a miserable howl. "This is a curse! A complete curse! "In the first life, I got greedy. I wanted to marry the princess and rise to the top in one step. What did I get?

Even though the bucket in the corner was empty, but the whole place reeked of bad body odour, shit, piss, sweat, and disease. I put myself between the two wolves and the exit. For my own sanity, I wanted to take them out of the cell and bring them up to the mansion - the stench in the cell made my eyes water - but I decided against it. I did not know what the two would reveal, and I did not want to come back down here if I could help it. “What’s killing you?” I asked Dexter Maree. “I have blood cancer. Very rare.” “Hm,” I said. “I knew a wolf that had it. Bad way to go.”

Everyone else came and congratulated us. "I still owe you a ring Millie Mouse since you stole my chance to propose," Hayden said. "Yeap, I win," I smirked. I didn't care about the ring or anything else. All I wanted was the guy of my dreams, and he was standing right in front of me. His pale blue eyes were gazing into mine. I encircled my arms around his neck and got lost in his kiss. ___ end ___ Thank you everyone for reading The Wrong Brother! Please be sure to check out my other stories in this platform:

“I tapped it.” “Knock it,” she said. He knocked it, and the noise stopped. “How do you know this stuff?” he said. “I usually pay attention.” Marcus was twenty-two and studying graphic design and had strong opinions about oat milk versus almond that he would share whether or not anyone asked. He’d accepted Wren’s existence without much curiosity, which she appreciated enormously. “Table four wants to know if we do decaf after nine,” he said. “We do.” “I know that. Do you want to tell them or should I?”