American library books ยป Other ยป Intended Series Collection: Books 1-6 by Abigail Grant (most important books to read TXT) ๐Ÿ“•

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The Intended Series Box Set Books 1-6

By: Abigail Grant

Copyright โ“’ Abigail Grant

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, either are products of the authorโ€™s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Book Description

Elโ€™s parents were killed when she was 6 years old and she has been forced to hide a secret ability her entire life. She can see things before they happen.

 She is away at college with her best friend Kassy, and learning details about her parent's deaths. Turns out, the secret ability only she had, isn't such a secret.

Enter, Gavin Cole. The dreamy, messy-haired college boy with a lot more secrets than even El thought possible. His world becomes hers in the blink of an eye.

Now, protected by a mysterious masked stranger with mesmerizing golden eyes, and chased by actual demons from hell, El has to learn to let people in and let her true self finally come out.

Table of Contents


Part 1 of the Intended Series

By: Abigail Grant

Chapter 1

I am cold and shaking in this small hideaway that mommy stuck me in. She told me bad people were here and I must not move. I have never seen daddy and her so upset before and I wish I could do something to make them smile. Loud crashing noises surround me, and I cover my ears, wanting to shut out the noise. I try my best to sit still even when my feet start to feel tingly.

I donโ€™t know how long it has been since I was left here but I slowly pull my hands down and am met with only silence. I am getting so tired, but I do not want to sleep because I know mommy will be back for me soon. I think I hear two women talking quietly, but I donโ€™t recognize their voices and that scares me.

I remember mommy telling me to be a brave girl, so I sit up and try my hardest not to shiver from the cold around me. The silver handle on my hideaway door starts to squeak and I freeze, not knowing who could be on the other side. Slowly, a little at a time, golden light begins pouring in as the small door is pulled away from me.


I sit up fast in bed, pulling a muscle in the process. Something is buzzing nearby, and it takes me a moment to realize my cell phone is about to vibrate off the cherry-wood bedside table. The blast of light from my phone screen nearly blinds me but through squinting eyes, I see who is calling, AUNT MAGS. I release a relaxed breath and answer, โ€œHey, Aunt Mags. How do you always know when I have a bad dream?โ€

โ€œBecause the day I adopted you, you were etched into my heart. I can feel it, like magic.โ€ Her motherly tone instantly soothes me, as it has since I was six years old.

โ€œWell, Iโ€™m okay. Iโ€™m a big girl now, you know.โ€

She scoffs, the noise extra loud through the phone speaker. โ€œYou are still my little girl, and donโ€™t you ever forget that! Now, you push away all your worries and have a beautiful day, sweetie pie.โ€

I cannot help but smile at her, even though she doesnโ€™t see it from nearly 400 miles away. โ€œIโ€™ll do my best, Aunt Mags. Thanks for the call. Youโ€™re the best, you know that?โ€

โ€œOf course, I know that!โ€ She laughs into my ear and I shake my head at her. โ€œTa ta, darling.โ€

The call ends and I tuck my phone away under my fluffy pillow. With the palm of my hand, I rub away the throbbing ache in the back of my neck and study my surroundings. I take a steady breath, remembering that sad day from my dream, over twelve years ago. My tense muscles relax, and I am thankful Iโ€™m not that little girl anymore.

I crawl out of my small twin bed and make my way out into the tiny kitchen attached to the even more petite living room. I love this cozy place, and even though the lack of space is not what I am used to, it feels so good to finally be off on my own, well, with my best friend Kassy by my side.

The two of us hobbled away from our homes in San Francisco, driving off in Kassyโ€™s beat-up purple Volkswagen Bug just a week ago, ready for our next big adventure. Kassy and I have been best friends since the day my adoptive mother enrolled me in her first-grade class when we were both only 6 years old.

She bounced up to me in the school cafeteria with her long brown pigtails flopping wildly and asked if Iโ€™d like to draw pictures with her in her special artist book. From that day on, our moms could not break us apart with a jackhammer. She has been my other half and knows everything there is to know about me. Well, except for one secret that I promised my mother and father I would never tell anyone.

My best friend is one of the main reasons I chose to apply for the Arts and Art History program at Southern Oregon University. She is obsessed with all things related to the visual arts and encouraged me years ago to discover my own artistic ability. We could have made it into several different art programs at other schools but there is another reason we ended up here.

When I was just six years old, my parents were murdered in our beautiful San Francisco home. Before it happened, I remember the three of us moving around a lot. They were always looking over their shoulders like they were running from someone or something. I survived because, I guess, whoever killed them didnโ€™t know I was also in the home. When she heard noises outside our house, my mother hid me in a small cabinet in her bedroom

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