Yo Mama Roasts Novels & Stories

Or maybe— “You can eat on your own, can’t you?” Mommy Lyra asked, still smiling that same beautiful smile. Ah. I thought she’d help me. “Yes, Mom. I can eat by myself,” I whispered. “Your injured hand is your punishment for disobeying me. Isn’t that right, Iris?” The soup went down my throat like glass. Before I could answer, Grandma spoke up first. “Iris, listen to me.” I lifted my head slightly. “Yes, Grandma?”

Instead, the strong aroma of curry and other kinds of spice filled the air, invading my senses. The crease between my brows deepened; only Mother uses curry this heavily. It's her signature style of cooking. Without thinking, I kicked the door open in haste, and to my surprise, Mother was right there in the kitchen cooking. “What the fuck, Mom!" An exasperated sigh left my lips. If I was ever in doubt where Rosita got her mischievous nature, the answer was now painfully obvious. Mom folded her hands across her chest and gave me a smug, self-satisfied grin.

Mama Rosa disappeared into the kitchen without taking their order. "She doesn't believe in menus," Damien explained. "You eat what she makes, and you like it." "And if you don't like it?" "Then you lie convincingly, because Mama Rosa has a wooden spoon and she's not afraid to use it." Isabella laughed—a real laugh, not calculated or performed. The sound surprised her. "You come here often?"

At that moment, I lost all hope, not just in Yelena, but also in Lipton Corporation. "Carter, if you were to beg me now to rescind the divorce, I might just consider helping you get promoted in the future. I'm truly heartbroken that your mom has passed away, but that still doesn't give you the right to blame everything on me! You have to be more considerate of me too, you know! "Apologize to me now, then promise to be good and listen to whatever I say in the future. I guarantee that your career will soar. That way, your mom won't have lingering regrets, right?"

Mum, who always stood up for me against her wasn’t around. She grabbed a spatula and stormed towards me

As she spoke, she turned her head and ordered, "Justin, let the chef from the Martínez family come over here and cook three meals a day..." "Grandma, it's really not necessary!" Haley couldn't help but feel helpless. "It's just cooking, I've gotten used to it in the past four years, and it’s nothing to me." "Haley, you have really suffered..." Madam Martínez took her hand, tears in her eyes. "If your mother were still alive, you wouldn't have to work so hard..." "Great-grandma, Mommy's cooking is so delicious!" Todd interrupted, interrupting Madam Martínez' sorrowful memories.

“Let me know what you think of it. I didn’t follow my mom’s recipe.” Amerie took a bite. Rosemary, thyme, and sage danced on her tastebuds as the tender meat nearly melted. “It’s delicious! I don’t think I’ve ever had a roast this good. My mom would barely season them growing up. Thank you for making dinner.” Everett smiled at her. “Of course. I’m glad you like it.”

, Mama suddenly yelled again . " What Mama ? ", Rio called out . " The punishment is for you and your sister ", Mama informed him . I laughed at this , my day had suddenly brightened . I returned to my closet to get one of his numerous sweatshirts that somehow always ended up in my closet . I threw it at him and jogged out of my room . " Reno ? " I turned to face Mama . " Blueberries or strawberry for your pancake ? ", She asked slyly . I choked as I thought of berries .

I fumbled through my pocket, my fingers shaking, searching for my phone. Blocked. His number was still blocked. My heart lodged in my throat as panic surged through me, but I dialed the number on the card Kent had given me the day before. The moment he answered, I gasped, “Please help me—RAPE! LA Motel, room 44.” “Wait—what—?” Kent’s voice broke through the haze, as I cut him off. “Help me, please,” I whispered, as the door suddenly burst open., tearing a scream from my throat.

Then, I proceeded to the kitchen for my daily dose of hot coffee. Mama sat on one of the bar stools as usual, chatting away with Vicky, our maid slash nanny who had been working for us for as long as I could remember. Surprisingly, she didn't do much work, seeing as mama was one of those people who had had a hard time growing up, but claimed that was what had made them who they were today, and didn't want riches to be the reason for their children being spoilt little brats who couldn't do anything for themselves. In any case, I guess I was glad for the training... it made me more independent, and gave me a much-needed aunty-figure in my life.