Dahlia Hawthorne Novels & Stories

Dahlia’s POV I was hoping today will be different, it was indeed a bright and sunny day. The birds were chirping outside my little one room living space (with a toilet) which made me feel more at ease with myself. Even though my two wealthy friends offered me a place at their mansions but I turned it down due to my overbearing pride which has me feeling like I need to go down the path of success on my own!. My name is Dahlia Harrison Garcia and I’m a struggling 24year old graduate with a Bachelor’s degree in Information technology and Communication Engineering .

“Lenora, meet Grimaldi’s only heir, Alpha Dorian Grimaldi.” For the first time, my attention fully shifted to the female standing by his side. Just like her father, Lenora Mendalv was quite infamous in the worst ways possible. Her sharp cat eyes met mine firmly and the ethereal beauty she carried effortlessly was enough to make any mere mortal worship the grounds she walked on. With eyes darker than her heart and straight black hair to go with, she was tarted in a white mini ball gown that did well to accentuate her slender curves and blemish free skin. In many ways, her charms were lethal, which had easily earned her the reputation as the succubus of North Creekville. Her red clad lips inch

CHAPTER 11 — Cold & Warm A younger woman appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Her hair was loose, and she wore a casual yet expensive matching blouse and skirt that made her look effortlessly beautiful. With familiar brown eyes and facial structure, Kallista thought she must be a Hawthorne. “You must be the new bride,” the woman said, descending the stairs with an intimidating grace. “Lila,” Evelyn said sharply. “What?” Lila shrugged, her sharp blue eyes raking over Kallista. “I’m just introducing myself. Lila Hawthorne, Jaxon’s cousin.”

Dahlia took the 2x4 from my hands and walked over to the saw. Dahlia is my niece. She is 18 years old, and beautiful as can be. She stands right at 5'2" inches tall. She has long blonde hair, green eyes, full pouty lips and just a few freckles splashed across her pert little nose. Her body is lean from all the running she does, and she has very shapely, muscular legs with the most incredible backside that I have ever laid eyes on.

For half a second, my mind betrayed me and supplied the wrong name. Penelope. But I knew instantly that it wasn’t her. I knew because this woman wasn’t posed. She wasn’t performing. She wasn’t trying to be anything other than what she was. And most importantly, she didn’t seem like she had a stick up her ass. This wasn’t Penny. This was Dahlia. She wore a white wedding dress—elegant and timeless, the kind you never forget once you’ve seen it. Her hair was pinned up in a classy updo putting her slender neck on display. In her hands was a bouquet of white roses.

"My darling, all I want is to be your moon and show you all the little stars of my heart" ~ Alexandra Vasiliu (Author of BLOOMING) "Daisy" I turn around hearing Salvatore's familiar voice, he makes his way to the balcony, my back is leaning against the railing as I patiently wait for him to come. He parts away the sheer curtains, the crease on his forehead instantly relaxes after seeing me.

A piece of paper popped up in the middle, and Via pulled it away. Sean’s neat and elegant handwriting once again filled the letter-shaped greeting card. ‘One of the florists said to me, Dahlia is a flower with a beautiful meaning; Commitment, Endurance and Dignity. A symbol used for weddings. Not only that, a woman who likes Dahlia shows that she is a strong and elegant woman. It was only after I looked at it again that I realized that you are the representative of the Dahlia Flower itself, and for now I am giving you Dahlia not only because you like it, but also to show that I am not messing with my words.’

Beside it sat a small BBQ pavilion shaded by wooden beams, with a long stone counter and comfortable seating. It looked like a place meant for gatherings. For laughter. For life. Yet what caught Dahlia's attention most was the garden. Dahlias bloomed everywhere. Rows upon rows of them in soft harmony— crimson, coral pink, ivory-peach. Her favorite. Her chest tightened. She remembered mentioning them once— only once— during a quiet evening years ago. He hadn't been listening. At least…she had always believed he wasn't. She could still remember the bored look on his face that evening. The cold, "Mm" he murmured at intervals.

She was a precious gemstone that he was dying to have. He went to the backyard and took a look around, trying to figure out how to put the perfect date for her in that place. He took his phone out to check the weather and luckily, there was no rain the next day. He glanced at the huge black canopy in his backyard and decided that it would be the dinner spot. He remembered that she once told him the Dahlia was her favourite flower, so he planned to give her a huge bouquet of Dahlias. She adored the scent of lavender, so he put in his mind to fill his house with lavender-scented candles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to officially seal this union with the exchange of rings.” Seal this union. God. Could they make it sound any more like a hostage negotiation? Dahlia turned to me with this soft, glowing smile like she’d been rehearsing it since birth. Her hand was delicate, nails perfectly painted, a princess straight out of a lifestyle magazine. And then… The perfume hit me. It wasn’t a bad scent expensive, floral, a little powdery. But it slammed into me like a brick wall. Sweet, suffocating, heady.