Grimke Sisters Novel Novels & Stories

[Wow, this is disgusting! I thought we were dealing with some sort of love warrior, but turns out he’s just a pathetic simp!] [Hey Veronica, how does that strawberry-flavored treat taste? Must feel great having two guys ignoring their partners for you, huh?] [Disgusting doesn’t even begin to describe it! It’s like a whole new level of gross!] [So, let me get this straight. Your fiancée gets hurt, but delaying the engagement wasn’t an option? You had to bring in a stand-in?]

It began with a sketch. Grace sat beneath the oak tree with her journal open across her lap, the tip of her pencil dragging gently across the page. Around her, the garden buzzed with summer, bees floating lazily, wind humming through branches, the distant giggle of her sisters from the porch swing. She had titled the new journal: “The Fire We Haven’t Lit Yet.” Cassie had smiled when she heard the name, but Grace could tell there was something deeper behind the way her grandma’s eyes softened.

I will not waste much time overviewing the point of the novel. My name is Grace and I'm the author of this novel. I want to inform you that this book is purely a work of fiction and some events might be totally unbelievable and that's cool because that's how world of supernaturals work. Always Share, Comment and Vote my book ?Grace THE CURSE

The other packs, including Blackwell, had to trade with them back then. Perhaps that was the only reason Sebastian’s father would try to overlook that his sister had left to be with this alpha, whom he had no plans to marry. She had brought him sadness and enemies by her action as she had supposedly wanted to marry someone else. He also believed until his death that that had been the strain between them and Grimshaw. His sister had supposedly been to marry Grimshaw’s only brother, but when she ran away, the young man had secretly challenged her new lover to a trial by combat. It was a fight to the death.

I winked at him and clutched my purse tight in my grip. He leaned forward and slapped my butt, "yeah you do." I shook my head at him and made my way out of the building. * "I'm home." I announced as I walked into number 5, Alice drive. The apartment I lived in with my parent and my sisters. The greatest part of having sisters like mine, was the fact that we were triplets, and identical. "You are just in time to help me bake cookies." Becca yelled from the kitchen, earning an eye roll from me as I slammed the door shut.

“She’s not far. She lives across the river from St. Mary’s. But she has a family and a busy schedule. It’s hard to make time.” The fire accents her profile, turns her skin a pale honey color. I watch her lips on her glass, unconsciously drawn to them, as I consider what she’s said. I take a sip from my glass. Not surprisingly, the wine is excellent. Unlike the impoverished neighborhoods around St. Mary’s—the student ghetto— the one across the river where Grace’s sister lives is an exclusive gated community. Some of the city’s wealthiest elite live there, and scarcely a weekend goes by that the faint music of some lavish event isn’t heard drifting across the water.

The next morning, the sunlight poured through the thin curtains of Anita’s apartment, illuminating the small living room with a harsh glow that seemed to mirror the weight pressing down on her chest. She sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor, her mind mixed with responsibilities and worries. Grace. Her sister, barely twenty-two, pregnant, abandoned, and desperate. And somehow, the entire problem had landed squarely on Anita’s shoulders.

People's eyes darted back and forth between Keith and me. "Keith, this is what you meant by 'just a sister'? A sister who wears my pajamas and sleeps with you? "You kicked me out of the house just to make room for your dear little sister?" Keith's face flushed bright red. He reached for my phone, trying to snatch it away, but I stepped aside and avoided him. "Silvia! Have you lost your mind?!" He kept his voice low, but his anger still showed. "Do you even know where you are? You may not care about your reputation, but I do!"

The headline was: MCKINNEY HEIR'S MYSTERY BRIDE-LOVE STORY OR GOLD MINE? She stood at the kitchen counter and read it with her coffee going cold next to her. It had it all: the contract marriage-implied, though stated with a clarity that suggested someone who knew what they were talking about had been directly consulted-the ten-million-dollar price tag. Her own background: dance instructor, small salary, Ukrainian immigrant, Anna's younger sister. Anna's coma. The date of the wedding, the precise circumstances. Everything was pulled together into an insinuation, never directly stated as a fact but made so undeniable as to require no such direct confirmation.