Grayson Hawthorne Novels & Stories

“My unwed mother died when I was a baby, so my uncle’s family took me in. I had to work for my keep, so I was apprenticed out young. And one night I was coming back from delivering an order and some thieves jumped me. I killed all three of them. Standing there with bodies littered around me, scared out of my wits at what I'd done, but feeling a strange confidence in my ability to do it again. So I ran away and joined the army. Seemed the ideal profession for someone with my newly discovered skills. And I was constantly travelling after that, never met the kind of girl you settle down with. Lots of women, but, you know... you both just get down to business. It isn't especially romantic.” The

I’d been tending the hydrangeas Sarah planted just last week. She said watching something grow made her feel alive again. I understood. That’s why I’d let my hands get dirty for the first time in a long time. The door of the SUV opened, and Grayson stepped out, his shoulders tense and his jaw locked. He didn’t move with his usual ease. There was a weight to him, something dragging behind his eyes like smoke that refused to clear. “It’s gone,” he said before I even asked. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t need to.

Inside the hideout, a guy is busy with the computer, one is busy creating scientific instruments and weapons and others are busy discussing. "How is everything going, Jason?" One of the guys asked the guy working on the computer. "I'm searching every area in Texas but everything seems pretty clear to me," Jason answered. Jason Grayson is twenty years old with blond short hair and grey eyes. He attends MSA but after school, he comes to the secret hideout to help out. He is a computer guru and can hack through anything. He had a twin brother Norman Grayson who looks exactly like him in height and everything, the only difference between the two is the sound of their voice. Norman Grayson sees g

Grayson gritted his teeth and said, "There's nothing good about that woman!" "Goodness me. So you called us up today because your wife bullied you, huh? Come on, tell us what she did. We'll stand up for you! I'm sure we'll be able to handle her!" said Tristan. Tristan Saunders was the owner of Liquor Den. He and Grayson had been best buddies since they were kids. He was infamous for being a playboy. He was handsome and rich and changed girlfriends like he changed clothes. Tristan was the relationship guru of their friend group.

Grayson’s terse text. She spotted him waiting beside his sleek black SUV in a dimly lit corner. Mr. Grayson, 48 years old, stood tall and imposing. His broad shoulders filled out his tailored suit. Silver hair showed at his temples. He radiated authority. A calm, predatory smile touched his lips when he saw her. “Raven,” he said simply. As she got closer she wondered what he had got on her bed on the text he sent and how bad it was. She stood in front of him and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe with the way the next few minutes played out.

Emilia Clark I sat still, fidgeting nervously as I waited for my interview with Mrs. Grey. I knew little about her, except that she was the Chairwoman of Grey Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar company previously run by her son, Damien Grey. No one had seen or heard from Damien since he was reportedly involved in an accident two years ago.

I wondered if this was all a test from Hawthorne and if I had somehow already passed, ready to become his Luna. The maids led the way, and I followed closely behind them. Outside, I saw Hawthorne standing with three people, while four cars were parked neatly. When he saw me, he signaled me to come closer. As I stood before him, I felt the piercing gazes of his guests on my exposed skin. “My lady,” a deep masculine voice spoke behind me. I turned to see Ryan, Hawthorne's beta, with a smile on his face. He took my hand and kissed it, looking pleased. I glanced at Hawthorne, surprised to find him indifferent to his beta’s gesture.

Isaiah said. “What’s Grayson’s last name? Maybe I can track him down,” Bruce said. “Grayson is his last name. His first name is Gary. We just call him by his last name,” Isaiah said. “He’s the ex-step grandson or son or something like that to that high society lady. Gwyneth Grayson.” “Wait, are you talking about Gwyneth Grayson-Hansen?” Bruce asked. “Yeah, that’s it,” Isaiah said. “I know him. Well, I’ve met him a few times,” Bruce said. “He used to have a penthouse on Fifth Avenue.”

world had returned with a vengeance: the rhythmic slap of the tide against the Maine cliffs, the wind whispering through the hemlocks, and the chaotic, unscripted chatter of people in the streets. Ethan Hawke stood on the porch of a small, hand-built cabin on the outskirts of Gull’s Reach. His "strong frame" was leaner now, his "muscular" arms hardened by a year of felling timber and hauling stone. He wore a simple wool shirt, the soot of the "City of Stone" long since washed away by the salt of the Atlantic. The Economy of Grace

Him looking relaxed, more confident now that she is here. Growing up, I’ve always wanted something similar to what they had. I didn’t think it would be possible. Right now, I could even say I’ve given up on that. “Oh, I’ve seen your statement piece for fall,” Mum says to Mrs. Granger. “The style is impeccable, as always.” From the conversations I wasn’t really paying attention to. I got to know Grayson’s father owns a chain of hotels and his mother is a fashion designer. His father is a family man from the looks of it, even though he rarely smiles.