Maggie Cross Novels & Stories

she pointed at the table. She did?. No wonder Sky said something about me taking an excuse to stay at home. “I’ll go to the temple with my mom tomorrow to pray on your behalf, okay? I'll pray specifically for you to get well soon, and cast out evil eyes!” “Isn’t that exaggerated?” Claire, one of the girls said, and we laughed. “Melissa, you should become a nun instead, so that your daily prayers can wipe out your bad luck,” another girl called Quincy said, and another round of laughter followed.

We then continued to his room. "Hey lovebirds!" We turned around to find Maggie rushing towards us in a crop top, jeans and knee length boots. Her hair bobbing up and down as she rushed towards us. "Maggie!" I said gently, excited to see her. "Good morning." "Good morning sweetheart." She smiled at me and turned to look at Mauris, her cleavage on full display because her crop top could barely contain her large breasts. "Why does Mauris look like he had just seen a ghost?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

Maggie was not wearing her uniform, and she was in short shorts and a large sweater that covered her hands and covered much of her waist. She was barefoot with her bare legs, her white skin almost shone in the apartment light, and her blond hair fluttered in the wind, not so long at the height of her shoulders. It gave off a floral fragrance that made Rick stay mesmerized for a moment as he passed him. She carried her cell phone in one hand and the two pizza boxes in the other. Looking around again, Maggie says with a smile, “This place is most impressive when natural light comes in.” She then sneakly glanced at the coffee table, before she walked gently and drop the pizza boxes on it. Maggi

Brayden Maxwell unclasped his hands and opened the file folder that he had sitting in front of him. He sighed and began to read. “Margarette Anne Baker Glenn, age 50, birthday June 9th, 1971. She is slightly taller than average at five feet eight inches and average build. She enjoys tennis, photo bombing, and spending Sundays with her daughter. She studied business at a business college but dropped out after meeting and marrying Dennis Mason Glenn. Maggie as she is often called has a best friend Erin Perry who she met at business school. She has a sexual relationship with Erin and her husband is aware although not entirely supportive.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know he had it in him. I knew he was a great guy, and friend, but never saw him as a romantic. I told you he was treating you differently than all the Barbie bimbos he’s dated in the past.” Maggie took the card back and carefully tucked it into the side pocket of one of her bags. Her spine straightened and a smile she thought may be stuck on her lips forever bloomed on her face. “Well, then. Time to get ready.” Forty-five minutes later, Maggie stood in front of the large picture windows backlit by stars in her pink dress and the heels that still gave her palpitations about walking in them. Her hair was pulled back into a French twist and her only jewelry was a gold lariat

She interrupted him and smiled sweetly at me. "I'm Maggie but my close people call me Maggs. And of course, I give you full permission to call me Maggs as well because you're beautiful and I think I've seen you in papers so you're beautiful and a celebrity. I'm the owner of this place so from today onwards whenever you come here, I'll serve you personally and you'll have a special discount as well. And if you need t-"

We all headed over to the food line, Rian walking between Tristan and I. Several pack members cast curious glances our way at the sight of Rian with us. Miss Maggie was working the buffet this evening and Rian waved to her, and she waved back. Miss Maggie was an older lady, looking to be in her mid fifties by Human standards, so perhaps in her late 100s for a werewolf. Her long brown hair had wisps of gray throughout it and was pinned back in a bun while she worked. She was taller, perhaps 5’9” or so, with a slightly curvy frame and well worn wrinkles on her hands, and laugh lines on her face.

They both turned at the quiet voice. "Maggie." Xander wondered if she noticed the softening in Porter's expression and tone. She'd lost the suit jacket since the cemetery but looked no less professional in the slim skirt and blouse, all that pale blonde hair gathered in a roll at her nape. Xander imagined she dressed much the same for the boardroom or her high-powered clients in LA. He wasn't sure exactly what she did for a living except that it used that terrifying brain of hers. "It's Margaret these days."

“Celine!” Maggie exclaims, jumping off the barstool and coming over to her “Hi!” Celine smiles at her, “Maggie.” Celine was curious why she was here, but not unhappy about it. “Uh… What’s going on?” Maggie takes her arm and leads her to the barstool she’d just vacated,

There was friendly laughter all around. "Maggie's not a city girl. She's originally from North Carolina. She lives in New York now, just like I do." He dug his phone from his pocket, queuing up the photo of the two of them he'd taken at the Red Lantern Inn, and he passed it around. "What does she do?" asked his sister Renée, who was pregnant with her second child. "She's a lawyer. Works for the prosecutor's office." "We were supposed to meet her this weekend, but we couldn't go, what with Savannah being sick," Jerilyn elaborated. "Ro-bert, tell them how you met her."