Jon Snow Ramsay Novels & Stories

A reporter asked, “Director Snow, your son, Rodney Snow, spent last night with Freya Lynch. Have you heard about it?” Jason said, “I have, but this is nothing. Freya is my son’s fiancee from the start.” “What? But didn’t Rodney propose to Sarah Neeson just a few days ago? Sarah is his real fiancee.”

he said, “you just made me the happiest man on the planet.” I reached up, brushed a tear off his cheek. “Back at you, farmer boy.” Outside the window, the first light of dawn was creeping over the hills—our hills, our home, our life. And inside this room, our family just grew by one tiny, loud, perfect miracle. Santa Ynez Valley – Months later His name is Rowan Hayes Voss. Eight pounds at birth, twelve pounds now, and already convinced the entire world was created purely for his entertainment. Today was his first real ranch adventure, and I was stupidly nervous about it.

Ryan entered the room, followed by Ellie, who came with a young, dark-haired boy. Nathan's expression changed to a frown as soon as he saw the boy. I lightly kicked his ankle under the table. He shot me a furious glance. "Behave, Ryan." I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's none of your business, Collins." Then I stood up to greet Mr. Ryan. Okay, that sounded a little strange. He had a big smile on his face. "I knew my son wasn't foolish. Welcome," he whispered as he hugged me. "Are you okay, dear?"

Emmie said and smiled at her before focusing back on Ramsay whose hands were rested on her bare knees, patiently waiting for her to break the news. “Tell me,” he sighed. “Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsson.” He stared at her for a moment before a smirk appeared on his lips as his eyes wandered down her choice of clothing. The cute pink jean skirt and white sweater she was wearing did kind of suit Sandy. And the leather jacket and black hair were perfect for him. “And why do you think no one would be able to tell?” he asked. “Well, you dress almost exactly the same as he does.” Ramsay scoffed and looked away with a grin on his face. “I’m no Mateo, baby, I don’t like skinny jeans.”

“James, Ronaldo’s daughter came at the company?” Alex Russo asked his grandson who was caressing his Golden Retriever dog lovingly as he sat in his mansion. “Yes,” his voice was void of any emotion. He caressed his pet as he tried to avoid the subject. “What did she say?” Alex Russo asked taking the seat opposite to his grandson. James let go of his pet and looked straight at his grandfather. “Expected. She came barging in the office, shouting and throwing tantrum like a little spoiled girl.” He told him as his mind formed the image of the blonde beauty.

With things at home mostly settled, I focused entirely on preparing for my overseas studies. The next time I saw Snow was the day before I was set to leave. She stood at my door and looked worn out. Nothing could hide the dark circles under her eyes. I had heard bits and pieces about what had happened to her. Yulan had scammed her. The project she invested in was tied to an international scam network. All the money she had invested was lost. The chance of getting any of it back was very slim. Snow looked at me and said in a hoarse voice, “Jared, I heard you’re leaving the country. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That report is just the tip of your iceberg, Ramsey. I have the complete history of your deeds from the past two decades. I am willing to exchange it for what you have on Jonas.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Garrett asks as Owen is fairly confused. I don’t miss the panic that passes across Ramsey’s face as he clears his throat. “It’s all about Jonas. Isn’t it? We should talk in private,” he says, and I tilt my head at his suggestion. Garrett glances at us and snaps, “Stop acting like I am not here! My daughter is getting dragged into this. Whatever you two talk about, it will happen in front of me.”

The pregnancy was easier than the first one, no bed rest or early labor scares, and at eight months I delivered a healthy boy we named James Adrian after both our lawyer and his father. "He looks like you," Patricia said, holding him in the hospital. "He looks like a baby," I said, exhausted but happy. "A baby who looks like Adrian," Patricia insisted. At home with two kids under three, life became organized chaos and Adrian and I took turns being the calm one while the other lost it. "I can't find Stella's shoes," Adrian said one morning, searching frantically. "They're in the freezer," I said, feeding James. "Why are they in the freezer?" Adrian asked.

And outside the tall, barred door to the archive, standing proudly, was Jonah. He stood. other. The brash, paint-stained sorrow of the studio gave way to an otherworldly, abject calm. He was impeccably attired, his shoulders thrown back, but his eyes were the color of a winter sea, their remoteness a pain in Clarkson's chest. He looked like a king who had returned to a captured castle, regarding the desolation with an impassive eye. "Robert," Ramsay began, no introduction. "We wait for your reply. Mr. Magnus's presence, at our insistence, clears the air. The lying is over now."

“Hi, I believe you know me already,” Snow said, winking at me. She must be the life of the group with how quirky and bubbly she has been. She has been entertaining all of us since earlier. She has hazel eyes and chocolate brown hair and a petite frame. She’s the smallest of the women. “This is my husband. Eion Hudson. We are both half Filipino half American, in case you wonder.” The handsome man with jet-black hair and emerald eyes beside him nodded his head in silence and kissed her on the forehead.