Zoe Pearson Novels & Stories

"It wouldn't be appropriate with someone in your position. We'll be hiring professionals for the performances." Zoe's expression crumbled. "So you don't think I'm professional enough." Jasper was losing his appetite. He came here out of respect for Landon and Penelope, not to be irritated to his wits' end. Landon spoke up for his sister, "Jasper, Zoe's a masterful pianist. She's more than qualified to perform at that welcoming party of yours. Why don't you give her the chance?" "He's right, Jasper. Zoe's always treated you as her own brother. Why don't you let her show off her skills this time?" Penelope doted fiercely on her daughter, so she also took the chance to speak up for her.

ZOE is a graduating college student from Manhattan. She's a scholar of a well-known company that deals with cars. She lives in four corners of a small apartment with her mother, Iris. Iris works every night at the nearby club as a pole dancer and a court for the upper-class—billionaires, politicians, and the like. People address her as an ultimate 'courtesan' because she's been targeting high profiles. Zoe even gets bullied because of her mother's job. Despite this, she mastered ignoring everything. Her mother may not have a decent job, but she still loves her, and no one can change that.

____ Girl, he ordered a breadless bread stick, my mouth was wide open" Zoe says, and I burst into laughter. Zoe is a chef at a Micheline Star Restaurant in Los Angeles. She graduated from culinary school while I was getting my masters. We met nine years ago in UCLA apartment, I had transferred the year before, and couldn't afford to live alone, so I sought for a roommate and I found her. She looked as lost and homesick as I was the minute I saw her, I guess that's what drew us together, we found strength in each other, She was 23 and I, 20, we became instant friends and she taught me the art of self destructiveness and I thought her how to balance it with the determination to succeed, we onc

That tree took up three quarters of the space and I couldn't help but wonder how old man Grayson had carried it in and set it up. I came back with my five gifts piled up in my hands, handing her the smallest gift first. She giggled when she saw the amount of tape I had used, a whimsical sound that made my heart pulsate in my chest a thousand times faster. When she had the gift open, she picked up the winged pendant necklace that had the letter Z as a pendant as well. "Angel Face and Zion?" Sophia inquired. A goofy smile crept onto my face and Alina's cheeks tinted a beautiful hue of pink, "Something like that," I murmured.

Zoe didn’t blink. She knew what they were after. Their balance. These people wanted their balance more than they cared about what was really going on with her. It was obvious. Zoe scoffed. Some of them like the event planner had gone ahead to subtly ask if she would still get her balance if the wedding would no longer take place. Zoe leaned her head back on the couch, closing her eyes, allowing her annoyance wash away. Her mind went to her savings. Now that she had cut off Rogue cosmetics and Aurelle had done the same to her, she had three brands remaining.

Probably some guy gave her a fake number in the bar. "I know what it is. But who are you?" She again asks me anxiously. "I am secretary of the President of the Damison Group. My name is Ethan Stone." I reply to her irritatingly, as she is wasting my time. I need to go home and take a lavender bath with my rubber ducks.

Her smile was bright and warm, but somehow it lacked the softness and innocence of Liora. However, she also had her strong points. She was prettier, well built, a decent tennis player. And I've not heard her voice in two months. “Zoe.” She opened a can of water and extended it to me. People were watching. Rumors of me rejecting her already made the rounds at school, causing awkwardness for her. Zoe’s family was very influential and wealthy, the top two percent in the country. She wasn't someone any sensible person would want to offend. Especially me. I have no reason to, because she's a sweet girl. Though I've heard people say otherwise.

Zoë murmured sympathetically, eyeing the bowl. Eyes narrowed, Andrea inched it farther away. “No, she’s buying us tickets. On the Internet,” she said with mock anticipation, blue eyes wide. “And since I don’t have a job and as far as I know your job is mooching, there’s no problem, is there?” She shook her braided dark hair in disgust and popped the meringue in the oven, mentally reminding herself to put it on the top shelf so the ancient device wouldn’t scorch the bottoms. Carefully easing the frosted cake out of Zoe’s reach, she grabbed a fresh dishcloth and started to clean up. “Sounds fun,” Zoë said absently, moving around her to lean on the mustard colored refrigerator. Her weave caught

she exclaimed, holding up a dandelion she had plucked from the grass. Zoe, at five years old, was the spitting image of her father. She had his unruly mop of dark hair that always seemed to be in need of a comb. Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, the same shade as Dean's, and held a depth that seemed beyond her years. Zoe's dimpled smile could light up a room, just like her father's, and her laughter was infectious, echoing the joy that Dean carried in his heart. Despite her young age, Zoe already possessed intelligence and curiosity, traits she undoubtedly inherited from both her parents.

Papa’s shout distracted us. I looked to the side and saw Papa looking disapprovingly at us, his open laptop in his hands. A normal person would be embarrassed to have their father catch them making out, let alone making out with one man while another is behind you getting handsy. I, however, am not a normal person. I’m Zoe Petridis, and the Goddess saw fit not to give me a sense of shame or embarrassment. Instead, I focused on Papa’s laptop screen, where I caught a glimpse of my Mama.