Romans & histoires Gracie Adams

“You girls are late. I might have to take some of the photos after the ceremony if we can’t get to them in time.” *Rob* Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Grace as she rounds the corner, her attendants in tow and a toothy-grinned Margie bringing up the rear. Even if she hadn’t looked so much like her grandmother that I’d swear right now Juliet’s ghost was with us, Grace is so unfathomably beautiful, so ethereal and graceful, I can’t catch my breath. Can’t take my eyes off her. Can’t stop the huge smile plastered over my face.

The number he had called earlier rang back, and he picked it up. "Sir, her name is Rita Dasilva," the caller began, but Adam cut him off sharply, "I have no interest in her name, just tell me what I need to know about her background." "Sir, she is from a poor background," the caller continued, "her father sells newspapers in Lacoste town, and she lost her mother in a car accident when she was eight." "How did a nobody like her make it to Picaremore University and where did she get the guts to look up to my son?" Adam inquired.

Adam was taken aback by her harsh tone. “Anna, I-” “And why is that? Does it remind you of someone?” He was cut off midway by a blondie who sauntered towards them while swaying her round hips in the air. She was Natasha, Grace’s unwanted enemy. “Nat,” Adam sneered. “Oh, come on. I am only curious. So, An, why do you dislike being called Gracie?” Natasha mocked her. Grace clenched the cup tightly. Her hatred for this endearment was nothing compared to what Natasha felt for her. She disliked Grace more than anyone in this world. ’Cause according to her Grace had snatched her limelight.

Adam stated firmly. “You see! Even now you're only concerned about her! You only care about her and not about me! You are trying to save her life, why, Jack! WHY!!! Why can't you love me like her! What does she have that I don't?! In fact I'm better than her!” Grace gritted and hated Ana even more for how Adam was willing to sacrifice for her sake. “You have to stop this, Grace. I...Arhhh!” Adam groaned and held his head.

Even the camera shutters stopped. Finally, the screen froze on an old file from the Appalachian Women in Business Scholarship Program. Name: Grace Walker. Birthplace: Red Creek, West Virginia. The photo attached was the same young woman outside the church. My grandmother. The real Grace Walker. The comments churned. [So the current Grace Hale is not Grace Walker?] [The letters are right there. He just said he rejected her.] [This isn't cheating. This is identity theft.] Henry pressed his lips into a thin line. His hand gripped the edge of the table. Sweat slid from his temple.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when she ducked into her favorite corner café, that the universe seemed to conspire against her. “Ms. Adams?” She froze at the sound of her name. Turning, she found herself face to face with Marcus Hale. Damien’s right-hand man. He was exactly as she remembered him from the gala sharp suit, sharper eyes, the kind of man who radiated competence and quiet menace. If Damien was fire, Marcus was steel. Grace’s instinct was to bolt, but Marcus lifted a hand, almost disarming in its calmness. “Relax. I’m not here on Mr. Blackwood’s orders. Pure coincidence.”

She wore them behind her ear. "A woman in love often do stupid things only to regret it later. She had hopes of a happy ending but got laughed at the end." "Such a woman must have truly be loved in with the man whom she desired." Zita said, keen to the conversation. Rebecca looked at her stomach and let a sigh. She had her hand on her stomach. "But he never loved her back. She was left with what she thought would be happiness." Rebecca said wryly. "Does Her grace refers to herself?" Zita asked curiously.

Eliene couldn't help but admire her daughter's beauty, Though being her mum, she couldn't lie and say Grace inherited her features, Grace was a carbon coby of her Dad, and Eliene was more than happy for that, because it felt like she had her husband with her again. Grace was an average 18 year old with an extraordinary beauty , Being a mixed child of a Latina and a French man, nothing less could be expected of her, she had long wavy brunette hair that cascades down her back and sways whenever she walks, deep sea green orbs that sparkles anytime she laughed, her skin was fair and white like cream, she was Indeed a beauty and had heads turning at such a Young age. Eliene couldn't miss her outf

I asked for the tenth time. She rolled her eyes “no, we have to find the perfect dress and I know someone who can help” she pulled out her phone and talked to someone. “who was that?” I asked. She grinned ‘wait and see”. there was knock on the door and Rose came in ushering in a guy, he was tall, with chocolate skin, black hair and brown eyes. “Camila, this is Jason, my husband , Jason Camila” Kylie introduced. I almost choked on my saliva at the word husband. She was married? She looked so young, I didn’t even figure that she was engaged much more married.