Brittany Tyler Novels & Stories

with that she ends the call and her full attention is now on me accompanied with a bright smile as she greets me with what is supposed to be a soothing voice "Alexa! " I have to admit, she's beautiful. Her perfectly curled strawberry blonde hair stopping mid back around her smallish frame, expensive looking designer dress and pumps giving her the classy business like look but the intense depths of blue of her eyes scream 'innocent devil ' "Its good to see you " well, i can't say the same for you. "I'm Brittany, we've met before on rather bad terms i suppose " you can say that again. I remember coming home that night to a very disturbing scene in the living room between her and a certain some

“I’ll pay. She’s not doing that.” “What the hell, man?” Tyler shot up, hands flying. “You’re messing up the whole game!” Cyril didn’t even flinch. “She’s not kissing some drunk idiot for a dare. End of story.” “You’re not her dad,” Tyler snapped, laughing. “You’re not even her…” he stopped short, glancing at me, and then turned away to look at his brother, who stood on the side, his eyes glued to his phone. “You know what? Tyson, please get him out of here before he pays everyone into silence.”

Dear lovely readers, We’re nearing the final chapters of The Tyrant’s Baby. It’s been an incredible journey bringing this story to life, and I’m so grateful for your support, love, and patience along the way. Stay tuned as we uncover the last twist, turn, and heartfelt moments in Selene and Alaric’s story. Thank you for being part of this adventure! With love, Yña Banana 🌙

Tyrel (Third-person) Ty can tell he's not making any sense to the other Alphas. When Axel opens his mouth to speak, he knows the guy is about to pıśs him off some more, "You know, there's rumors that 'playboy Zee' is a little too attentive to his temp assistant. That's your girl, right? Kelsie or what's her name?" "Kerris!" "Yeah, the hero Beta's daughter," Brad chimes in.

“Layla! I wonder sometimes why exactly I was beginning to like that tyrant of an Alpha Damien . He never does anything besides beat me and whip me. He only shows me concern when he feels like it and then he's back to his normal vicious self soon after." Ariel complained as she bared out all her grievances about Damien. She knew that she had to lie about the status of her relationship with Damien to get more information. Layla thought she was the only one who could play a person like a fiddle? Well watch how I'm gonna beat her at her own game.

Brittany had only succeeded in pissing him off the most. "I'm sorry, Alex, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry," she begged, weeping, trying to get closer to Alex. "Are you fucking crazy, Brittany?" He hissed angrily, "What is the meaning of this madness?!' he snapped. Brittany sniffled and put her head down, but that wasn't to hide her tears, it was to hide the sky smirk that she had on her face. She was going to mess things up for both of them. All she had to do was get the press talking and make sure they tear Megan and Alex apart, she would never allow both of them to be together, never!

Whereas my drunk friend was playing karate on the dance floor. I was enjoying dancing when a push caused me to jerk forward. "Poor, who let you in? This party is for rich kids." Guess who is this? Brittany aka Barbie bitch! Wearing only a shiny golden bra and short shorts, she glared and smirked at me tauntingly. "Same person who let you in," I said and looked at her casually, who threw her disgusted look at me and ran to a group of boys or Xavier's group. Of course!

she whispers like she was inside my head. It's Nia.

How reckless could she be? "Did you drive here?", I ask, horrified that I may already know the answer. "No, I drove her", another voice adds. What is going on? Does an open door mean an open invitation to anyone's home? I look up from my inebriated friend to see a familiar bitchy face: Brittany Murphy. 5'8 and dressed from head to toe in designer, she struts in like she owns the place--typical. Her wavy brown locks sway in the night breeze, and she makes us all look like peasants.

I crack an eye open, and the next thing I know, Audrey has thrown herself down on my bed, pinning me in a tight hug and disrupting any more rest I was hoping to get. "Happy birthday, bitch!" She squeals after finally releasing me. Audrey Lucille Prince: curvy hips, voluptuous chest and tumbling red hair, she was always the center of attention. Best friends since we wore the same blue dress to first grade; inseparable growing up. That is, until college. She went down to Tennessee while I went over to Boston. But the distance only made us closer and, somehow, we both ended up back in Ohio in the city of Columbus, only two hours away from our small hometown called Cambridge. Total opposites, he