Yo Mama So Short Novels & Stories

Fans flooded my page, begging. [Stella, please. Just give me one chance.] [You're one of Carmoria's best dancers. You made us proud overseas. Let us see you live!] I laughed. I was about to set up a giveaway when a comment popped up: [What's there to be proud of? She's used-up trash. She lost her baby in a car crash. Who cares how well she dances? Who knows how many men she slept with to become principal?] I clicked the profile without thinking.

However, unlike him, I was far more sensitive, emotional, and delicate like my mother, JoAnne Rey Graham. Mama is a petite, Creole-cultured woman from the French Quarters of Louisiana. Her skin and features are almost those of a suntanned Arabic woman. Her hair was once long, jet-black, and straight. However, she’s now rocking an easy-maintenance bob cut. Her eyes are big, round, and sparkling. She has a naturally giving and loyal attitude, and despite the years of drug abuse and prostitution, Mama is exquisite. I admire my mother’s inner beauty and strength because our past was saddening. I recall hearing Mama getting her ass whipped by my daddy in the middle of the night. Mainly because sh

What the hell ? “Oh my God !!! You are soooooo pretty !!!!” my Mom- the great Alpha Zoe Stone screamed in her sing song voice like a fan girl and if Aunt Nyssa’s hugs spelt death then Mom’s were enough to kill you for ten lifetimes- not exaggerating. I repeat. I am NOT exaggerating.

she begged and them dimples damn " stop with the dimples already-if you weren't my sister -..." " you would cut my head off I know -meet you in an hour or more" she said I chuckled, damn I missed her so much...I went to Fat MAMA, what that's what it's called, it's a fast food,fats only like curbs, ribs..shit like that and everything is large here,i ordered curbs,olive greens with extra source,some full chicken and a whole lot of french fries and bottles of coke then waited for my order, after getting the order I went to my car to put the food in until I heard a woman yelling a bit behind me I turned to find some lady fighting with some dude

Bella I saw my mother in her default state: coffee in one hand, legs crossed, and her free hand stroking the cat on her lap in her rocking chair. “That is so not the face of someone who's mourning her dead husband, is it?” I thought to myself ignoring the noise of my heels clicking on the tiled floor, echoing across the quiet house. I didn't take off my sunglasses because my eyes were still quite swollen and it was the last thing I wanted them to see.

I whined, my stomach growling at the smell of syrup and bacon. “Because your skirt’s too short, and we need to get you a new one,” Mom sang. I slumped onto the counter, elbows down, palms pressed to my red-hot cheeks. I could feel Carmelo’s eyes burning through me. “It’s *not* that short,” I grumbled, sneaking a glance at him. Big mistake. His stare was sharp and unblinking. I looked back at Mom instantly. “If you bend over just a little, I’d be seeing your butt,” she pointed out.

Yowley pointed at me and said to Yelena, "Isn't the Mr. Carter you're looking for standing right there in front of you?" I grinned at Yelena, who was utterly dumbfounded at the news. Clearly unable to accept it, she screeched, "What? He's Mr. Carter? Isn't his surname Chance? How could he be Mr. Carter?" "Shall I reintroduce myself? My name is Carter Chance, and I'm also known as Mr. Carter." At that, Yelena instantly understood that there was no way she would be getting my project. Her eyes darted around, taking in the scornful looks everyone was shooting her. She spun around and fled with her tail between her legs.

Not even the illusion of privacy. Everything could be watched. So I used my own connection—the one Henry had built, separate, secured, and entirely outside anything that could be accessed from within this house. The screen lit up. For a brief second, my hand hovered before I tapped the contact. The call rang once. Twice. Then— “Mama!” The word hit first, immediate and warm, cutting through everything else without resistance. The tightness in my chest eased as his face filled the screen, his hair slightly messy, his eyes bright in a way nothing in this house could replicate.

I got to find out the reason she lived alone minutes after our arrival there. Ma was not the really sensitive type. Her humor was unique, sometimes you might forget to laugh. She had instantly concluded that I was James's woman– I'd soon be, I'm sure of it. She had also made mention of James and his attraction to short ladies. I got to know Sasha was almost the same height as I was. But I wasn't short. At 5'6 I'm not to be seen as short so if Ma would say Sasha's short, I'm sure Sasha was not.

"He is the owner of the fashion company Mommy is going to start working for. Which means..." "On Monday, DADDY AND MOMMY'S LOVE STORY WILL BEGIN... YAY..."