Unbecoming Book Novels & Stories

I just want to disappear like one pop of a bubble or run out of this house and never look back. But I cant, I know I have to face them now. I have to face Khaleel. I have to face Benedict even if it’s too embarrassing. I cant remain quiet forever and this past will hunt me until my last breath, might as well explain to these people why I did it. I know it would hunt me but the pain of how Benedict would look back at me after today, it would hurt much more. It’d hurt more with what he could possibly think of me after knowing about my past. I have to defend myself and explain why I became what I used to be. I have to explain why I became a prostitute. You’re strong Thea. You’re stronger now th

"Well, Isabella. Since you're so kind, you can take care of your broken prize. You're the one who caused its little… accident." Isabella froze. The white egg was so badly damaged, saving it would cost a fortune in magic and money we didn't have. She wanted a perfect divine companion, but she'd just turned it into a worthless burden. She held the cracked egg, trapped. Just then, a brilliant white light exploded from the egg. Everyone fell silent. I whipped my head around. A man, naked and divine, with dragon wings unfurled behind him, shimmered into existence. A single trickle of blood traced a path from the corner of his perfect mouth, a stark crimson against pale skin.

Found the smoke. It had changed since the first time—less terrifying, more familiar, the way a deep place becomes navigable once you've been there and returned. It still felt like dissolution, like coming apart at the seams of myself, but I knew now that I'd been wrong about what that meant. I wasn't dying. I was becoming. Please,* I asked it. *All of us. Just across. Twenty feet. Please. The smoke answered. I came apart—and this time I didn't just dissolve. I expanded. Reached outward. Felt the edges of the people closest to me and drew them into the dissolution, not consuming them but surrounding them, making them part of the same formless becoming I was.

’ A part of her mind coldly asked her. She blinked back her tears. She was stunned by her own thoughts. Shea swallowed the lump in her throat as she realized how much her thoughts were slowly becoming a venomous poison to her thoughts – as doubts and uncertainties started to creep into her entire system. ‘If it is his beast, then would it change a thing? Denver and his beast were one. He is part of his beast, and so was he to his monster. You can’t separate the two of them. They were part of the whole, and that’s the reality that you must accept.’

As her mind reeled from questions she needed answers to, the reason Vincenzo was that way and killed people with reckless abandon, incinerated them afterwards all left her wondering. Why had he become that way? Why had he grown up believing that killing another person was normal. And why was he above the law? With the law never catching up with him? People like him had been the reason why in the past she has wanted to become a lawyer but due to several reasons, first her financial status, she has abandoned her dream. Did that mean that even if she were to become a lawyer, she would never be able to help the helpless by prosecuting their offenders? She would never be able to bring everyone to

She looked at those words. She had not been writing the second book. She had been writing about writing the first one. She had been writing about what it meant to become, and about how becoming was not finished, and about what the continuing of the becoming looked like in the ordinary daily life of a woman who had been through the fire and come out of it more herself and was now, in the months that followed, discovering that more herself was not a fixed thing but an ongoing one. She had been writing about what came after.

Author's Note Dear Reader, Welcome to Beautifully Unfaithful. This is a story about betrayal, but perhaps not in the way you expect. It is about a woman who spent years carrying everyone else's expectations while quietly starving inside. It is about grief that was never healed, love that became a weapon, and the devastating loneliness that can exist inside a marriage long before anyone walks away from it. Laurel Cruz Leonard is not a perfect heroine. She makes choices that many will question. Some will judge her. Others may understand her far too well.

“I wanted to take risks… but she called it arrogance. Said I wasn’t grateful. She said I thought I was better than her. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I applied to a fashion school. I thought… if I left quietly, I could finally have a life of my own.” His shoulders trembled.“and I got in but the day I was supposed to leave, she found out and sent men after me.” Rebecca’s grip tightened slightly on her notebook. “They cornered me. Beat me so badly I couldn’t even scream properly.” His hand moved to his leg unconsciously. “They broke my leg… and left me permanently disabled.”

I tried to decide how I felt about it. Comforted, perhaps. By the warmth, by the unexpectedness of the kindness, by the fact that Lucas had grabbed my hand with such complete confidence that being led somewhere by a stranger's child had felt entirely natural. Unsettled too. But not in the way I had been unsettled on the plane, or in the weeks before the plane, that familiar low vibration of something unresolved sitting at the base of everything. This was a different quality of unsettled. Lighter. More like standing at the edge of something than like being caught in the middle of it.