Sandra Brown Novel Novels & Stories

She's so serious about this, it kinda makes me feel less shitty about putting her in the middle of all this. "Do you have like a dating manual or something?" I ask because I think she does. "No, babe, I just read too many fucking books." She heaves a laugh, I smile at that. "Heyy, guys." Sandra stands over us in a tight green dress, her brown hair in a ponytail. Neither of us respond, we just stare up at her, waiting for her to say something else but she keeps waiting for us to respond. "Hey..." Cass trails, like she can't seem to remember Sandra's name.

That wasn't her wish but then it wasn't like the universe was always going to be king to her, no? "Hello, I’m Sandra, as you may have known from my charming grandma,” Sandra greeted as her nana extended Sandra’s hands to meet that of the man in the room. It took everything in Sandra not to pull away, but when their hands made contact Sandra felt like the room temperature was turned up to something. Suddenly she was feeling hot and there were sparks all over her body, it was something she hadn’t experienced, but right now, she had a feeling that the smiling bastard before she knew what was wrong with her.

Sandra was looking around for something to protect herself while Melanie was distracted. “Someone like you should not be allowed to live, you ruin people’s lives then act all innocent. No, I will kill you and save us all the trouble of having to deal with you.” Melanie turned sharply to Sandra making her breath hitch when she looked at her with those cruel eyes. Sandra could not help but regret ever coming here, she only wanted a fresh start and to finish her studies. But now she was going to die in the hands of a deranged she-wolf and all because of a man. She didn’t want any of this; she didn’t ask for this. Melanie charged to her ready to punch her but Sandra ducked under her arm falling

Sandra continued, flipping through a new page of her novel, "If not, what would I have done in a strange land, with only my cranky best friend as a companion?" Ismena snorted, "Says a woman that has made it her mission in life to explore the whole of Naturiah since she came here. She has even made more friends than I have, and I've been here first." Sandra grinned from ear to ear, "What's a girl supposed to do? These people love me so much, and it's so easy to mingle with them. God, it's still hard to believe that they REALLY existed all this while and I didn't know they did. Not even a hint. Just my babies..." She raised her novel, "...to keep my hope alive."

Sandra’s POV The cold wind whipped across my face and the heavy down pour did nothing to help my situation, my legs begged me to stop running but I could not, not even if I wanted to live, not if I valued my life. The moon was high and bright above my head, the only source of light that illuminated the dark path ahead of me. I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching behind me, each sound I heard sounded like the death bells. All of a sudden, I tripped violently over a stump and crashed in to the wet forest floor, a curse flew from my lips at once, of course now had to be the perfect time to fall.

Sandra: I had the weirdest dream. My life was a complete lie and there was all this drama. Benson cheated on me but I cheated on him with Chaze, yet we didn’t do anything but he did just to get some weird power. Oh! And I was a shapeshifter. I would have been fine just being a werewolf but this dream had to be more complicated. I met the leader of the Dark Luna Rhythms, and everything was crazy. His mother was a whore and his father did weird and bad things to other shifters. The amount of stuff this dream contained seemed like months of knowledge about things I’ve never even heard of! Of course, I lay here with my eyes closed, knowing this bed isn’t mine. The scent in the air isn’t my house

"Sandra, find a crossword to work on and spread yourself out on the couch. I will read my book. The last thing we want is to give anyone the impression that we're expecting company." "I could pretend to fall asleep on the couch!" “Whatever you want,” I told her, but I knew of course she wouldn’t be able to sleep. While I read my thriller, Sandra sprawled herself gracefully on the couch, working on a crossword. I eavesdropped for the footsteps on the stairs. Perhaps the acrostic was too easy. Or maybe the time went by too slowly. In any case, Sandra had solved the first brainteaser without any difficulty, and started another, while I carried on reading the same paragraph recurrently.

“I gave him my youth, my trust, my devotion. I stayed at home, cooked his meals, and kept his house while he treated me like a worthless ghost. I don't just want a quiet divorce anymore, Ryan. I don't just want to take a little settlement money and walk away quietly.” Ryan looked down at me, his dark eyes intense. “What do you want, Sandra?” “I want to destroy him,” I declared, my voice cold and resolute. “I want to take back everything he stole from me. I want to strip him of his money, his power, his pride, and leave him with nothing! That fucker deserves nothing after what he did and is still doing to me.” I snarled with a ferocity that I never even knew I could possess.

I am trying not to return to the apartment and find them together. “Do we know how Mathius’s meeting went yesterday?” Emmy asks. “From what Dylan told me, it went well. I guess the woman, Nayleen, that he met with was incredibly helpful.” Sapphire answers. So that is the woman's name. Damn, even her name is beautiful as she is. Once again, the apartment is dark, or that is what I thought. Someone left the dimmer light on, making the living room look like something out of a romance novel that Sapphire reads. She is into those fantasy/paranormal romance stories. Has Dylan caught her reading them? Giant hands grab my hips as I touch the switch to turn it off. I scream as I am pulled ba

Sandra. Sitting on the balcony. Alone. Quiet. Bathed in the dim glow of the setting sun. Embroidering, of all things. Poorly. Terribly. Beautifully. Her stitches were uneven, her threads tangled, her fingers moving with a kind of fragile determination, as though forcing something delicate into existence might ground her in a world determined to break her. And God, she looked so heartbreakingly like her old self and nothing like her old self at all. A memory slammed into me without warning: