Jackson Storm Novelas e Histórias

" ********************* He is JAXON WILSON, the bad boy. . . She is SAMARA GRAY, the good girl. Haters or lovers? What changes will come in their life when they both share the same room?

Intrupted Davina . Cynthia smiled looking at them . " When will you stop making fun of me Davina . " said Jackson . " This day would never come my dear . Never mind i am just kidding. He is really a good Musician . " said Davina. " And am biggest fan of Drake . " said Jackson . " Yeah ! I suspected that from your hoody . " replied Cynthia as Jackson wore a black hoody with Drake's photograph on it . " UMMM...You are smart . " said Jackson .

I told them as I got closer. “Alright. Thank you, Nat.” I heard Skyr say. “Oh and by the way, if you’re hungry I packed some sandwiches in my backpack.” And then I heard Byron snicker before he stopped. I can only imagine that Skyr had hit him. “Hungry?” I wondered out loud as I bent down to have a closer look at the damage on the control panel. “I’m not hungry.” Is this blood? That’s weird. Are the bodies that the storm blew nearby?

"Rumored to be an actual sweetheart in reality." I nodded with eagerness. "Also treated his exes with great respect. Most of them were contractual." Cage looked absolutely uninterested in our Channing Hayton facts and WhatToKnows. "Wow, amazing," he said with a hint of sarcasm. I wasn't surprised. Dad hated him too because Mama's such a huge fan she gushes whenever he has a new movie out. "Isn't he in his thirties?" Zharn asked. "He'll be thirty-two next two months," I answered his question.

Taylor “Turn on some music,” Kennedy prompts. I link my iPhone to the Bluetooth speaker in the living room. I scroll through my playlists: Running, Reading, Driving, School, Lite, Heavy, 80s, and Random. I select the Random playlist. “Stitches” by Shawn Mendes fills the room. I adjust the volume, so it won’t interfere with conversations this evening. Back at the kitchen island, I grab a tumbler and pour two fingers of Jim Beam to calm my nerves. As I finish my drink, I hear Jackson greet guests on the deck.

Lent dropped obediently, and the flimsy chair creaked under his weight. Lent was large and hard-muscled, his short but shaggy black hair looked uncombed. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. Storm wasn't used to seeing as men as hot as this, having never really met one on her side of the town, except for her ex, who had left her to pursue his basketball career at a university, thousands of miles away from her.

I was told he specializes in the use of knives and daggers and was more deadly than a raging bull. He had no tattoos on his body and he always had a mean look on his hardened face. Real name, Jack Lansing.Storm, the big brains, the hacker. Real name,Michael Angelo. Not all that tall,5ft 9,with thick black short hair,styled in a Mohawk.

“Anyway, that’s when we went to the gala. I had some champagne, and you were up on stage, holding us up like puppets for everyone to look at and pity. I was . . . mad. I wanted . . . want . . . what you have.” “Monica? You can’t have her,” Jackson says evenly. His laugh is mirthless. “No, not Monica. But a girlfriend, a life, a career, a purpose. I feel like there’s this big black void inside me.” He grips his shirt right over his chest as if he can feel the nothingness inside. “Other kids at school are talking about university, trips, stupid shit like that. And I’m worried about where I’m going to live and how I’m going to survive.” “You will survive with help. You don’t have to do it alone

"Good. Because Ruby deserves someone who looks at her the way you do. Like she's the only person in the room." "That obvious, huh?" "Completely." Before Hawk could respond, the door burst open. Jackson stormed in, looking furious. "We have a problem."

I swallowed and walked in, approaching the table in the room consciously. “Please sit. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.” I nodded and leaned forward after sitting down. There was no light in the room except for the lamp on the table. “I hope the room you were given is to your liking.” I nodded, still unable to speak. “Feel free to ask me any questions you might have. My name is Jackson, Jackson Storm.” My eyes widened. “Stor–m?” I stammered as I recalled an instance where I had heard the name.