Are There Any Sequels To Getting To Know Grace?

Faith Thomas – Thirty-six-year-old accountant and closet romantic whose marriage implodes when she catches her husband of ten years cheating. Devastated, she moves home to Texas, determined to never let another man into her heart ever again. Rick Connor – The handsome thirty-nine-year-old retired Navy cryptologist making a new start for himself after a crushing loss four years earlier. He’s alone, and he's made peace with it – until Faith Thomas wanders into his bookstore and into his heart.

My younger sister, Rosalind Thorne, stole nine boyfriends from me in a row. I was too terrified to ever fall in love again until Nikolai Volkov proposed to me. He doted on me as if I were a rare treasure. I truly believed I had finally found the one. I thought I was destined to become his Donna, living a life of peace and security by his side. On the eve of our wedding, Nikolai sent Rosalind abroad. Four years into our marriage, I crossed paths with Rosalind at a banquet. A guest smirked. “Nikolai sent you overseas to rot for four years. Don’t you hate him?” Rosalind offered a provocative smile. “He’s the father of my two children. Why would I hate him?” The room suddenly fell deathly silent. “My elder sister is so stupidly naive, believing Nikolai actually despises me!” She sneered, wearing a look of disdain. “The truth is I’ve borne his heirs, lived in his estate, driven his supercars, and spent his money.” As she finished, every single gaze in the room snapped toward me. As Nikolai Volkov’s lawful wife, I knew nothing about what she said. But, I didn’t cry and cause a scene. I simply tapped ‘send’ on the email I had drafted long ago. The reply came swiftly. [You are more than welcome to join my medical team. I’ve been waiting for you.] Staring at the reply, a genuine smile slowly returned to my lips. Nikolai Volkov, from this moment on, you no longer need to pretend to love me.

Kayla Green is not your typical girl. She is known and she has friends. People talk to her because of her easy going personality and caring attitude. Evan though Kayla seems happy at school and is always chirpy, she didn't have things easy at home, so she uses school and her friends as a way of escaping her problems. No one knew about her problems, not even her best friends. Carson Knight, the school's bad boy, who has his own secrets, has soon become a part of Kayla's life. He is very dangerous, cold hearted and a player. Would he be another bad thing to add to her life? Or would he be her saving grace?

My name is Elvira Rossi, daughter of Don Rossi, head of the Itavelle mafia family. Three months ago, my father was killed. Our operations were stripped bare, nothing left. The accounts were draining fast, and the family still had mouths to feed. Then a DNA report surfaced out of nowhere. According to it, I was the LaRosa family's long‑lost true heiress, missing for eighteen years. Money, at last, had found its way to me. For the sake of my people, I was willing to set aside my pride and play the part of a sheltered heiress. The car sent to escort me back to the estate broke down halfway up the mountain? I steadied it with one hand and carried it the rest of the way to the hilltop manor. The fake heiress dissolved into tears, accusing me of pushing her? I answered by striking the century-old tree in the courtyard, splitting it clean through. She went silent immediately. My fiancé sent bodyguards to "teach me self‑defense"? My two friends politely introduced them to the concept of being permanently embedded in a wall. As my so‑called "family" shook in fear, my knuckles cracked softly. After all, before inheriting the mafia, I inherited my father's favorite rule: "If violence can solve it, don't waste words."

After I got a second chance at life, I stopped bringing lunch to my wife, who had become the factory manager. She would leave for meetings through the south gate, so I would sneak around through the north. In my previous life, I knew she only married me with an ulterior motive, but I still fell for her. I thought I could warm her heart over time. However, Shirley Scott was always just polite to me, nothing more. When I tried to get close, she would hand me a book and say, "Read more so people won't look down on you." Once, with a bit of liquid courage, I hugged her. Yet, she just stood there, stiff as a board, and said, "It's what married folks do." Years later, as I was dying, I read her memoir and learned about how she felt trapped in our marriage, like being stuck in the mud. She hoped she would never have to be with me again in another life. That hurt more than anything. However, then, I woke up and discovered that I was back to when there were whispers about her and the factory's technician. This time, I did not make a scene. I just asked for a divorce.

Three years ago, Vincent Harlow slept with a college student. When I found out, I was ready to walk away from the marriage with nothing if it meant I could divorce him. The day we were supposed to finalize the paperwork, Vincent jumped off a high-rise building. Tree branches broke his fall partway down. He survived, but his leg was shattered. Now, he was in a hospital bed and sobbing through apologies, begging me to give him one more chance.