Novelas y relatos de Veronica Fox Author

Avril defended herself. “For two whole hours? And what was this book about? A lady who preferred to feed ducks than marry the man her father wanted for her. Try listening to a duck feeding endeavor accompanied with lamentations about terrible fathers and dominating male pricks,” Verona blurted out, her grey eyes darkening. “It wasn't that bad,” Avril bit down on her lip and whispered. Camper cracked a smile. “Fiorella, take it easy on Verona next time. You know she's not really sane.”

Gale said cheerfully. It was weird to hear someone so happy about dead creatures and it only confused me more about the girl. Saple made an annoyed noise in my head. “It isn’t the death that thrills her but her passion for the subject.” Saple told me. Everyone seemed ok with Gale. Except for Veronica, who was constantly fighting with her over things I didn’t understand and I hadn’t thought Veronica was the kind of person that fought with others. But she had fought the monster. Prince Vaugn was nodding at Gale as he turned towards Veronica, who looked up at him with big sparkly eyes. She never looked at me like that. Gale jumped on her lap again and Veronica began struggling to get her off.

DEX. "You can turn now," Veronica says, and I prepare myself before I face her, and she cackles as she pulls at the ends of the shirt. "Hideous, isn’t it?" She’s in one of my loose black shirts, and it practically swallows her, reaching her mid-thighs. Christ, was she always that tiny?

But of late… he wondered if he had ever truly known her. At the packs, she had mocked a Luna to her face. In her eyes, ordinary wolves were beneath her. Vanity had crept into her bones, souring her words, and he, blind fool that he was, had let it fester. “...and I will commission new gowns immediately,” Veronica continued, voice bright, sharp. “The court has been far too long deprived of a true spectacle. They will...” “Veronica.” His voice was low but hard. Her words cut off like a blade severed them. She blinked, lips parting in surprise, then pressed into silence. Arnold lowered his gaze instantly, mouth snapping shut as if to swallow his own admiration before it could spill.

It's so unnecessary, but whatever, I'll oblige his ego this once. "Looks like we didn't chase you off fully." The wolf is all jokes, huh? He chuckles like it's one, but we all know he isn't joking at all. I shrug. "I'm like a cat. I got nine lives." "Aren't you a fox though?" Misty asks. Yes, Capt. Obvious, I'm indeed a fox. My sarcastic remark is on the tip of my tongue when Maverick pierces me with a warning look. I swallow down those words regrettably. I take a deep breath like Maverick did and then I release it.

All of a sudden, Veronica felt that although Xavier was a playboy, he was more humane than Matthew. She stepped forward and knocked on the car window, and through the half-slit window, she said to Xavier, “You’re flirting with girls again? You’re always playing around girls all day long—don’t you know that karma’s a b*tch?”

As Darian begged on his knees, I didn't even bother to look up. I just kept stroking the trembling snow wolf pup in my arms. "Maeve, please..." Darian’s voice cracked with a sob. "I know Amara was behind the silver fox, that she cut herself at the clinic..." "I know everything," he wept. "Please forgive me. Give me one more chance." I finally lifted my head to look at him. "You think that's what I care about?"

"But Lady Veronica... the rumors say she drew the war maps that saved our soldiers on the plains. The citizens are calling her the Battle Luna." "Lies!" Veronica snapped, her voice dropping into a harsh, xenophobic venom. "It is all clever magic and trickery! She has put a dark spell on our young princes! She is using her foreign charms to blind them. First, she takes over the war room. Next, she will take over our ancient laws. If we allow an outsider from the Voss pack to sit on the Crescent Phoenix throne, our pure Lycan heritage will be destroyed forever! Our children will obey a foreign girl!"

Sofia was finishing her masters in Porto, Mateo had started university in Lisbon, and the great grandchildren were scattered across time zones, their small voices arriving only through screens that grew colder with each passing season. Veronica refused help. She cooked her own meals, simple things now: bread toasted over the fire, fish grilled on the terrace when the wind allowed, coffee black and strong enough to keep the tremor in her hands at bay for an hour or two. She wrote in the afternoons, the notebook open on the same long table where Ethan once read her drafts aloud. The pages filled slowly, ink bleeding where her hand shook, but the sentences came fierce and unsparing. She was wri

He still didn’t reply. “Father,” I pressed, stepping closer to his desk, “I came to warn you about Veronica. She’s my ex. We dated for years. She used me for my money, that’s why I have no investments all these years. Remember that welcome party? She purposely started that fire just to get in the spotlight—that’s exactly the type of person she is. She’s only working here so she can worm her way in, get attention, and slowly claim everything you own.” “Okay,” Xavier said flatly, eyes never leaving the screen.