Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Tue, 28 Jan 2025 08:14:44 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Bad Little Bride (Girls of Greyson #2) Read Online Meagan Brandy http://www.wownovels.com/bad-little-bride-girls-of-greyson-2-read-online-meagan-brandy Tue, 28 Jan 2025 08:14:44 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/bad-little-bride-girls-of-greyson-2-read-online-meagan-brandy Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Meagan Brandy Series: Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)

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Degradation of the Desperate Daughter.
That could be the theme song to my life.

Always second choice. Second best. Second born.
Maybe that’s what possessed me to track down my father’s most formidable enemy, the infamous Enzo Fikile.

He’s the nation’s most eligible bachelor, and the crime world I was born into’s biggest threat, but not because he wants to tear it down.

No. This man wants to claim his place within it and if the whispers working their way around are anything to go by, he’s well on his way.

And I just offered him a golden ticket, one he accepted with an unexpected spark in his eye. We signed our marriage contract that night, and the deal with the devil was done.

I’m engaged to the man the rest of the world fears and there’s no going back.

I expect to be tossed in a tower and left there, but my future husband has other plans. Dangerous ones.
He wants the world to believe our love is real and not bargained, but he says even that’s not enough.
He wants me to convince him.

What was supposed to be a simple arrangement spirals into something more, and before I know it, I’m caught in his web, secrets spinning all around me.

I hate him as much as I crave him, but as enemies close in from the most unlikely of places, I realize something.
No one is allowed to hurt my husband.

Except, of course … me.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Pronunciations

Fikile - fee-key-lay

Bass - like the fish

Damiano - Dom-e-ano

Rayo - Ray-oh

Chapter

One

Boston

“Fiancée swapping prick.”

I down what’s left in my glass, set it on the edge of the tub, and sink to my neck in the steamy water. If only the heat could melt the anger and, yeah, the nagging little bitch whispering I told you so over and over from my mind the way it’s threatening to melt the makeup from my face.

Of course, the man who shall not be named would pop back onto the grid after months of no contact the moment my father reached out to him with a better offer than the one I had made.

Marry me and gain access to my family’s underground empire, that was going to be my proposal.

Literally, considering I was offering him my hand, but all I had a chance to say was “marry me” before he took a single step closer and agreed, effectively cutting off the remainder of the fifteen-minute pitch I’d prepared, because yes. My life had become nothing but a business transaction.

The man crowded me after those two weighted words, hiding me from the view of his security detail, and instantly making me regret having snuck away from mine. He cocked his head and stared at me for ten silent seconds, those dark eyes as daunting as his massive frame.

“You wanna be mine?” he’d said when he finally spoke, his voice no more than a rumbly whisper. “Now you are.”

That was it.

Seven words to seal our fate, then he turned around and walked away.

No negotiation. No confirmation. Not what I would even call a conversation.

I didn’t have to mention a marriage to me would end the feud between my father’s operation and his own, and an alliance would form. We didn’t discuss how, and I wasn’t given the opportunity to affirm the second part would take time plus trust, but it didn’t matter.

He knew.

The ins and outs would come as the contract was finalized, and with a single signature he would get what every powerful man from here to the coastline was after without success.

The Revenaw name behind his own…assuming he stopped trying to bury it, of course.

He needed no other information, but then again, why would he?

It was no secret to us or any of the crime families that the Fikile name wanted to wash ours off the streets so they could rise from our ruin, and legitimately take over a section of the criminal organization we were a part of, rather than fight for the claim of the territory my father says he has no right to but took up residence in.

My offer saved him time, money, and the lives of his men. With one signature and a contractual “I do,” he would be indefinitely tied to the most influential names in the underground crime world.

I offered him this in the shape of myself and he agreed.

And then my father did one better.

He put gold on the table, and everyone knows only a fool would pass on gold for silver.

So, again, of fucking course he shows up now.

But where the fuck was he when the date he demanded I return from my “visit home” passed and I still didn’t return to his prison? I surpassed the little deadline by weeks now, and my supposed fiancé hasn’t attempted to contact me once. Not even when my father told him I changed my mind, and no longer wanted to be his bride, breaking what was supposed to be a life-binding contract.

But why would he? It’s not like he came to me and asked for the marriage of convenience. I sought him out. I set up the meeting, ditched my guards, and met him alone on Alcatraz Island, hoping he didn’t feed me to the sharks right then and there.

Obviously, that didn’t happen, but now I can’t help but think it would have been a less humiliating way to end this, for me anyway.

Irritation prickles at my skin so I run my palms along my arms, wishing the lavender petals would do their job and calm my nerves.

I’d bet the asshole was betting on this happening, maybe even planned for it.

What other purpose would the clause in our marriage contract hold?

It wasn’t a safety net to “ensure his investment”—I should have run at the word choice alone.

If Boston Revenaw is unable to fulfill her duties, her twin sister must take her place.

Every marriage of convenience has an added little twist from each party, a pretty little threat of sorts, in attempt to keep both in line. I nearly scoffed at his. Why? Because it was a laughable idea.

Or so I thought.

Never in a million fucking years did I expect my dad to offer up his diamond daughter in place of his damaged one…but he did.

He called the man I was to marry and told him he could have my sister instead. The prize Revenaw.

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Tempting Little Thief (Girls of Greyson #1) Read Online Meagan Brandy http://www.wownovels.com/tempting-little-thief-girls-of-greyson-1-read-online-meagan-brandy Sun, 11 Jun 2023 19:41:58 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/tempting-little-thief-girls-of-greyson-1-read-online-meagan-brandy Genre: College, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Meagan Brandy Series: Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)

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Bastian Bishop. That’s his name.
He’s rough, rugged, and utterly unpredictable.
He’s not cautious or contemplative. He’s a volcano. Silent and steady one second, and a nightmare in the next.

But that’s not the worst of it.
This guy? He’s an outsider and in my world outsiders don’t belong.
They’re unwanted, unwelcome and known to disappear without a trace, yet he doesn’t seem to care.

After one night of reckless rebellion, the tattooed tyrant keeps coming back, sneaking into my world without permission, and causing trouble I can’t allow.

I should end this now before my father discovers his existence and does it for me, but he won’t allow it.

He says, like it or not … I am his now, that nothing and no one will stand in his way.

What he refuses to understand is I’m a Girl of Greyson, a coveted queen of sorts in the underground crime world.
He’s a nobody, an insignificant man with nothing to his name, marking him a threat to my own.

We could never be, but he won’t hear it.
And me? I know exactly how this ends.

Or so I thought I did, until betrayal burns so deep that suddenly nothing makes sense.

Nothing but him…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Four Years Ago

The deepest, darkest shade of red runs in a steady stream, filling in the cracks of the concrete, not stopping when it meets the burned grass, but soaking into the roots and panning out like a flame with no fire.

So why the fuck is there a man in yellow trench pants standing ten feet from me, eyes wide and hands raised in the air? His mouth is moving, but if he’s speaking, I don’t hear shit.

No, that’s not right.

I hear something deep in the back of my mind.

Screams.

Cries of pain.

Cries for help.

Cries for mercy.

My vision blurs, and it’s as if time rewinds, my fucked-up head forcing me to relive what led me right here, right now …

“Please, no. Please, don’t. I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

“You’re worthless.”

Smack.

“Useless.”

Smack.

“Trash.”

Crash.

More cries.

The scream that tears from me is damn near unrecognizable as I wrench my hands free of the zip ties, a few layers of skin tearing as I do. The electrical cable he used to tie me to this chair holds strong around my middle, but the brutal sounds coming from downstairs tell me there’s no time to find something to cut the thickly covered copper digging into my ribs, so I lurch awkwardly to my feet and spin so my front is facing the bed.

Pulling in as much air as the position allows, I run backward with all the speed I can manage, slamming the cheap wood into the wall. A guttural shout rips from my throat as my shoulder crunches against the wall, but I do it again.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Come on, come on, come on …”

Wood splinters pierce my bare back, digging into the fresh welts there and tearing open half-healed ones. I do it again. And again, my back teeth at risk of cracking from clenching them so hard.

I gasp, my entire body shaking with rage, as the screams from the first floor grow even louder.

Warm liquid trickles down the entire right side of my body now, and my chest heaves, but I don’t stop. I draw on as much adrenaline as I can, and with one last crash, the back bars of the chair split, snapping from the base and left arm enough for me to wiggle my body and crawl out of the restraints.

“You want to cry?!” he screams. “I’ll shut you up!”

“No!” she weeps.

My heart pounds wildly as I run toward the voices, the cuts on the bottom of my feet tearing open more and more with every step, but I don’t care. I can hardly feel the pain anymore.

I can hardly feel anything. A new, darker form of rage bleeds into my bones, numbing me from the inside out.

“Get back here, you little bitch!” he demands, the front door slamming against the hinge.

“Fuck!” I hurry down the stairs.

She ran outside.

We never run outside when he’s like this—or after—but then again, it’s never lasted this long before.

My stomach leaps into my throat as the living room comes into view.

The broken glass littering the floor mocks me, the bloodstains on the shitty shag carpet a constant reminder, as if I fucking need one, of what he’s capable of doing to her, to me.

My mother hugs the now broken frame of the door, cowering against it, and the moment she hears me coming, she attempts to keep me from stepping through, but I shove her away, breaking free when her hand darts out, attempting to latch on to my wrist.

Horror slams into me, and I jerk to a stop on the porch.

My sister’s face is even more swollen now, blood seeping from the side of her head where he pistol-whipped her before tying me up, the bullet meant for her still buried in my flesh. She struggles to keep her eyes open, her body growing limp at our father’s side as he drags her back toward the house by the hair.

I have to get to her.

I have to free her.

I will save her.

He spots me and comes to a halt, eyes flicking over my shoulder.

And then my mother’s body is crashing into me from behind, knocking me unsteady. She’s hysterical, afraid for the man she loves more than her children and stumbles. With a slight nudge of my elbow, she tumbles into the dirt, scrambling back and hiding behind a flowerpot when my father pulls the trigger of the gun gripped in his left hand. The harsh “pap” rattles in the trees, the bullet burying itself into the dirt near his feet.

“Son, stop this right now! You’re bleeding everywhere! Get back inside before someone sees!” she cries, begging, yet again, for us, the victims, to “be good” and take the fucking whipping we “deserve.”

Of course I’m fucking bleeding. I came home to chaos, saw a gun pointed at my sister’s head, and with the look of acceptance in her eyes, I jumped in front of her just before he pulled the trigger.

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