Priscilla Spelling Novels & Stories

For three years, I used my family's mob ties and my own money to pave the way for Declan's crew. He was the boy I survived the streets with as a kid. But at this month's sit-down, his newly hired secretary, Roxy, tossed my casino ledgers and club records onto the table in front of all the guys. She accused me of skimming profits and slacking off. "These underground banks, these smuggling docks," she read the numbers out loud, her voice full of fake outrage. "Every time she bribes someone, she skims thousands of dollars! She's lining her own pockets." "I say the Boss strips her of her club manager title right now to save our cash flow." I glanced at Declan, the boss of the crew. He knew

The woman in front of him was the complete version of Nora in an older form—the only difference being that her eyes were brown instead of green. She slowly approached David, her steps elegant and full of carefulness and perhaps… pride. “Nice to meet you,” she said with a devilish smirk, offering her right hand to him. “I'm Priscilla, Nora's mother.“

Her mother clung to her knees, howling like an animal, while Linda held onto her granddaughter, continuing to repeat the mantra, "No, no, no..." Over ten minutes passed with the three generations of women embracing. They kissed each other on the cheeks, on the forehead, on the neck, and Linda now changed her vocabulary and replaced it with, "My little girl, my child, my baby." The friends said nothing; only Paco didn't cry. Absolutely everyone else cried while observing the women embracing. Priscilla was forty-two years old and resembled her mother greatly. Her hair was short and close to her scalp, and she had big light brown eyes. She was slim, taller than her grandmother and mother, and j

The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, with comfortable seating areas and soft background music. I spotted Priscilla sitting at a table, sipping on a cup of coffee. She looked stunning, as always, with her long, curly hair and piercing green eyes. Her slender figure was accentuated by the fitted white dress she wore, complete with a gold belt that cinched at her waist. She had a peaceful look on her face, and she seemed to be enjoying her coffee. As I approached the table, Priscilla stood up to greet me. We exchanged pleasantries before sitting down to discuss the contract. The conversation flowed smoothly, with Priscilla asking insightful questions about the product and the campaign. I was i

Jeff giggled, "Let me ask you a question, why do you like this Prisca-girl so much?" Diri, still running on the treadmill, replied, "First off, her name is not Prisca girl. Her name is Prisca. She's unique, she's beautiful, and she has an amazing voice. Aside from music, she is an industrialist, someone who puts her head to work. What not to love about her?" "Let's just get it straight here, she wasn't yours, she can't be yours and she will never be yours. Stop living in your dreams man, fall in love with someone physically, and get laid." Jeffery scoffed.

It was Priscilla's voice. Her booming voice, which was polished from her long teaching career, was distinctive and distinguishable. Surprised, Holly hurriedly pushed Bryce away. Yet Bryce remained composed, his arm still wrapped around her waist. He turned to look at Priscilla and smiled gracefully, greeting, "Good evening, Priscilla." Priscilla was covered in sweat as she had just returned from line dancing. She eyed Bryce and coldly said, "Stop taking advantage of Holly when you both have already divorced."

I muttered. Her name left behind a sore taste in my mouth, nearly metallic even. I didn't like it when the past resurfaced in my face just because it could. Something told me that she was here to cause trouble, that she had done that in the past too. Priscilla cleared her throat, preparing for the long story. “She is from a Spanish city in the outskirts, and she arrived in Washington a few years ago as a scholarship student,” She began. I confirmed all she said from the record in the tablet.

Please sign here. Priscilla was confused. Looking at the red sea of roses before her, she felt somewhat dizzy. What the hell was Frederick doing? People around stared at her, so she could only take it to sign her name. When she was signing, she found a name that had been checked off. Though it was checked off, Priscilla could tell it was Regina’s name. She couldn’t help but cock her brow, with a cunning look. Not far away, Amber flushed with embarrassment and anger.

Hargraves letter and use against Jessica. ‎Priscilla, usually so quiet, dropped to her knees beside me, her eyes blazing. She seized my shoulders so hard it hurt. “Listen to me, Ava. Don’t fall apart now. This is exactly what they want...to see you weak, broken. But you’re not guilty of attempted murder, do you hear me? You are not!” ‎

over the name “Theo Moretti” The Sicilian sea breeze drifted through the window, salty and free. I finally understood that a true mafia principessa was not a weak girl waiting for a knight to save her. She was the one who wielded the sword herself, severing the past and crowning herself. And I, Sophie Lucas, am that principessa.