Marilyn Thornhill Wednesday Novels & Stories

♡〜٩( ╹▿╹ )۶〜♡ Victoria: All preparations are confirmed and on schedule. Mr. Thorne, please refrain from provoking Dorian Vane. Dorian Vane, please limit your pre-event selfies to a reasonable number. I smiled at my phone, their energy a small comfort. Then, the usual bickering started. Julian Thorne: I am pleased the event is proceeding. I am significantly less pleased that a certain actor will be there to distract my girlfriend. Dorian Vane: Hey, Mr. Trust Fund! You see her every single day! You're dating her! You're being ridiculous!

she exclaimed. “If I'll never guess then there is no point in me guessing is there?” I sighed and placed my laptop bag down at the side. “I had a visit from mother earlier and she wanted to know if we were interested in going to the Thorns charity event next Saturday!” The Thorns are well known for their status and money. 20 years ago, Richard and Lesley Thorn invested in setting up a local apple orchard and cidery and opened Thorn cider. Before long they had expanded across the country. Their brand quickly hit shelves across all supermarkets and stores in the UK. Although their wealth has grown, the family stayed local and chose to run the local site as opposed to moving away. Their childre

--- Adrian's POV Miles away, Adrian Thorn stood in his office, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He hadn't slept in three nights. Cold coffee sat untouched on his desk. Reports remained unread. Every thought led back to Evelyn. A frantic knock shattered the silence. His assistant rushed inside. "Mr. Thorn!" Adrian turned. "What is it?" "We found it." His eyes narrowed. "Found what?" "The recording." His heartbeat quickened. "What recording?" "The complete security footage from your wedding day."

Yseah spoke with firm but a hollow meaning behind it. Greetings! This is my first ever werewolf story. I really was looking forward writing this. And if there are wrong typos and grammars, that I deeply apologize. I am sorry in advance. By the way, if you're enjoying the story, please vote gems for Mated to the Thorns. Thank you!! -Note: From Author, MysticGrace

“Whoever you are, Ms. Chun, basic manners dictate you knock before barging in,” Romilly said coolly, stepping forward and folding her arms across her chest. Zinnia gave her a slow once-over, her lips pursed. “And you are?” “Romilly Thorne,” she replied, lifting her chin with quiet defiance. I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, already feeling the dull throb of an impending headache. The day had barely begun.

I said, breathing hard. The clerk looked at her screen. "I'm sorry, sir. Miss Thorne checked out two hours ago." "Where did she go?" "She didn't leave a forwarding address." I turned and walked out. She was trying to hide from the world, or maybe just from me. But I knew her. When she was stressed, she went to work. I drove to Thorn Aviation's Werewolf Studio. Most of the lights were off, but the top floor was glowing bright. She was there.

Since Evelyn was dressed, I opened the door and we rejoined the others. "Thank you, Master Thornhill," I said. "We've enjoyed your visit and I can't thank you enough for what you've done for Shasta and her family." I gave him a big hug, then one for Evelyn. I whispered to her, "You've got a lovely cunt, slave." Lisa, Rhonda, Cindy, Shasta and Bernice all hugged him too. Everyone else shook his hand. "Merry Christmas, everyone," William Thornhill said, "a genuine pleasure to meet all of you."

Thinking about my hellhole, I sighed and picked up my bag and books. After the class was emptied, or so I thought, I stood up to leave but was suddenly frightened when I felt a weight on my shoulder. “Hey Miguel, sorry for the other time. Anyway, let's go have fun!” Shirley cheered, throwing her left hand across my neck, on my right shoulder. She was only able to do this all because I was shorter than she was, which was displeasing. “I'm not going with you,” I said, taking her hands off my bruised shoulder while trying not to show that I was in pain.

"I'm not going to have any trouble with you two today, am I? The manager is going to keep his eyes glued to this table. If you pull any of your usual stunts, he'll know." "Excellent," Bill said. "He should know what goes on in his restaurant if he's going to be an effective manager." "Mr. Thornhill, sir, haven't I met you somewhere recently?" Sharon asked. "He was at our bonding ceremony, Sharon. His presence wasn't exactly advertised," I said. "Oh my God, yes. You look a lot different with your clothes on, sir," suddenly realizing what she said, blushing. "Don't we all, Sharon. You were there with your husband, Phil wasn't it. You looked quite different then too."

“I’m not here to exchange pleasantries. I came to ask you one question.” He didn’t reply. He just poured himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the shelf like this was just another casual afternoon. “Did you know Thornhill is dead?” The glass froze at his lips. Then, casually, he took a sip. “Dead?” he echoed. “Are you serious?” “Dead,” I repeated, voice cold. “He was shot. Two nights ago. The same Thornhill who handled your mother in law's will. The same one who confessed to me that you forced him to tamper with it.”