Zara Wade Novels & Stories

Your recent collections have been both aesthetically and scientifically impressive. As someone invested in more than a dozen health and wellness startups, I know potential when I see it. I’d like to offer a sponsorship package through Wellington Holdings. However, this comes with a specific condition: I would like you to consider a certain individual as your next brand ambassador her name is Zara Lane. She is not just a face she is a story. A powerful one. She represents everything the new generation of women stands for: resilience, transformation, raw beauty, and honesty. You don’t need to build her into a star; she already is one. You just haven’t noticed her yet.

“He says he’s honoring me.” “He’s lying.” “I know.” Zara stood up and opened the wardrobe. She looked at the clean lines and dark fabric and chose nothing. She closed it again and turned back to me. “I don’t want to announce a return,” she said. “I want to be one.” I rose. “Then be one.” Her chest lifted and fell, then lifted again. The last of the trembling left her shoulders. On the muted screen, Ethan smiled for the cameras. Zara watched him for three slow heartbeats, then looked straight at me. "I'm going to the gala."

"I was wrong, Raina. Please don't go, okay?" Zane Wade begged. His eyes instantly welled up with tears as he watched me come down the stairs decisively with my suitcase. He had been comforting Moira Green. However, after seeing me, he immediately abandoned her in a panic and hurried toward me.

Younger than I remember it being. The door swings open and Zara walks in. She is grinning, bright and easy, her locs pulled up in a messy bun with a pen stuck through them, wearing one of her ridiculous oversized hoodies that reads WORLD'S OKAYEST PERSON across the chest in cracked iron-on letters. Alive. Completely, fully, annoyingly alive. "Finally!" She throws her arms out like she's greeting a crowd. "I've been calling you for twenty minutes. Breakfast is getting cold and I will not be held responsible for what happens to the pancakes after this point."

"Because it won't work." Zara rolls her eyes and a curl falls on her cute face. This woman is really beautiful. Not just her face and her round brown eyes but also her big heart. Too big for such a small body. She really deserves so much. She deserves so much more than Tray. She deserves someone who will love her and care for her and treasure her like the fucking gold she is. Zara is a queen who deserves a king, not a lifeless nobody with rich parents who tries to bring her down to his level and manipulate her into thinking she deserves the harsh treatment.

Ari asked, with intrest. Hans stayed silent and that made us look at him, with suspicion. "Hans?" "1692 we will have the first female of both the Djinn and Wendigo race. She will be the only Djinn left." He whispered. "She'll become Queen because of the Fae and of Wendigos, because the Elders and the Djinn will be dead. We don't know who it is though. Just that she'll be the mate of John R. E. Brickenden."

“I’m Adelina and I’m calling from KlasyRhodes fashion home, Luanda. We need you to create some designs ma. We want to put up a fashion show and we need new unusual foreign designs.” Could she just stop with the madam thing, Chava had cringed one of her fists already; she didn’t like to be addressed with ‘ma’. Luanda? That was an African country and the caller didn’t sound like a regular client. Where did she get her contact from? “OK, my name is Chava or you can call me Miss Ava.” She smiled. “OK mad--sorry, Miss Ava. How much is your rate?” “When is the deadline? And how many designs?”

“All you have to do is show up.” To make matters worse, news of the wedding had been leaked to the public and their faces have been circulating in newsletters, tabloids, gossip columns, and celebrity magazines, for what was rumored to be the wedding of the century. She could swear that the publicity stunt had been her mother's personal crusade against her. The women knew involving the public would seal the deal. Seeing that things were spiraling out of control, she swallowed her pride--which was rather difficult to swallow--and reached out to Zaki over the phone one week later. She fixed a meeting for 2 pm today and told him to come with chocolates.

REID I can’t even remember the last time I danced. I do recall the last time I came close- at Astrid’s Luna ceremony, the drinks were flowing, I was rolling on a solid buzz, and I almost joined the other guys when their mates dragged them to the dance floor. A few months before, back when I was seeing Arabella, she’d often pout and whine to try to get me to dance with her at the bar on Saturday nights. I always refused- dancing has just never really been my thing. At least I didn’t think it was my thing, until I see Serena out there shaking her ass and every guy in the vicinity eyeing her up.

"Zoey, are you alright?" "Is this really true? Or, am I just dreaming?" Zamantha laughed. "What is this chaos happening here?" Zara suddenly appeared out of nowhere, already in her pajamas as well. They had a very hectic day and all of them only wanted to lie on bed and rest. Zamantha smirked. "Zoey is going to be the next renowned fashion designer in the field of fashion designing, Zara. I knew it."