Madeline Crawford And Jeremy Novel Novels & Stories

Jeremy thought, his interest growing. However, his intrigue took an unexpected turn as he stumbled upon her criminal records. Shockingly, Melissa was an ex-convict who had served time for murder. She had taken the life of her ex-boyfriend and spent three years behind bars. "I never would have guessed," Jeremy whispered to himself in disbelief.

“I heard that after Meredith Crawford was involved with the attempted murder, you never went to visit her again. Even though Meredith has done a lot of bad things, she still gave birth to a son for you and stuck with you for so many years. A lot of people online are calling you heartless, so what is your response to this?” Jeremy’s gaze became grim when he was faced with the questions from the journalists. “Meredith Crawford has killed people, so she must be punished in accordance with the law. I was entangled with her before, but I’ve never liked her, let alone loved her,” he said. Suddenly, his eyes softened as if they had been caressed by the spring breeze. His eyes were glued on Madeline

Turns out, it's you! "Maybe I should reintroduce myself to you, Ms. Houston." Madeline then straightened her clothes and flashed Lacey a smile as she formally said, "Hello, my name is Madeline Carlton, and I'm Timothy Bloomberg's girlfriend." Lacey looked elsewhere and said faintly, "Ha, I never thought you'd be smarter than I imagined."

Jordan planned to convince Madison to divorce her husband and he plans to tell her now. "Maddie, why-" "I'm pregnant." Jordan's eyes shook. "What?" "I'm pregnant and Gavin is the father."

And how can I ever reject him. Actually, I have been thinking about the same thing since we are back. I know I promised him a lush wedding. But I was waiting for him. I am not surprised to know that he can read my thoughts. He is like that. "Are you sure Jeremy"? I turned to him and he sealed the deal. In his own style by slamming our lips together. And I can never be happier. ************** General POV

We had been at Crawford until eight, working through the London entities case with Sol and a barrister who had joined the project the week before, and when the barrister left and Sol announced he was going home before his houseplants staged an intervention, Madeline and I had the office to ourselves. She was at her desk. I was at the table. It was a Tuesday evening in December, and the city was lit up outside the window, and it was the most ordinary moment of a year that had contained some of the least ordinary moments either of us had lived through. I thought: now. I got up from the table. She looked up from her desk. "Jeremy," she said, reading something in my face with the accuracy she ha