Turbulence
Page 80
“You’ve read my book three times?”
“Seven,” he said. “And I’m not done. You have a lot of errors you need to know about.”
“It’s already published.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He was smiling. “You need to know about each and every one of them.” He clasped my hand. “Why did you change where we first had sex? It was against the bookshelf, but in your book it’s on my desk.”
“My editor thought that was a better place.”
“My eyes skew towards a lighter blue, not dark blue.”
“Another editorial change.”
“We fucked on way more than one international flight, and you sucked my cock for the first time in New York, not a stopover hotel.”
“Once again, editorial.”
“I also don’t ever recall saying that I loved you that soon in our relationship.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I said what we had was messy and I liked it.”
“So, you don’t love me?” I asked.
“That’s not the point.”
“Care to get to it?” I mocked his voice, and he smiled again.
“The point is, I haven’t seen or fucked you in months, and I haven’t seen or fucked anyone else in months either.” He pressed his lips against mine. “And that, no one else will ever compare. I miss and I love you, and only you. And most of all, I miss fucking you.”
“You really could’ve left that last part out...”
“No, it was very much needed.” He wiped one of my stray tears away. “I love you, Gillian. No matter what, and I think we need to leave this party. Now.”
“Not until I ask you a few questions. I need to know what type of man I’m dealing with tonight.”
“The type that’s going to fuck you the second we make it to the elevator, the type that’s going to take you to his place after that and fuck you all over again.”
I blushed, but remained still. “Why did you take me off your visitors’ list at the hospital?”
“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he said, looking genuine. “Plus, you’d already been there two weeks in a row and I was fine. I wanted you to worry about yourself.”
“Are you the anonymous person who’s been upgrading all my flights to first class for all my recent book signings?”
“Of course not,” he said, smirking. “Only someone who still loves you would do something like that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re very welcome. Is that the end of your questions?”
“No, I have two more.”
“I’ll answer one more.”
“Fine. Is this the part where you propose?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me so hard and reckless that I nearly lost my balance. Then he squeezed my hand and began to lead me toward the elevator. “This is the part where we start a new chapter, one we can write together.”
**The End**
A Letter to the Reader
Dear Incredible Reader, Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review on amazon, B&N, goodreads, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-)
I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. )
Love,
Whitney G.
Also by Whitney G.
To be a part of my mailing list and be notified of release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link.
Reasonable Doubt Full Series
Reasonable Doubt #1
Reasonable Doubt # 2
Reasonable Doubt #3
Sincerely, Carter
My Last Resolution: A Novella
Mid Life Love Series:
Mid Life Love
Mid Life Love: At Last
Twisted Love
(New Adult Romance)
Malpractice
(Erotic Romance)
RESENTMENT
Nicole London
PROLOGUE
MIA
Smalltown, USA
2004
Dean Collins is the most irresistible asshole at Central High School.
He’s your typical cliché, Mr. Popular. The “guy’s guy” who’s been voted “Homecoming King” two times in a row (minus my vote); the sexy star quarterback who’s capable of making grown women swoon from the sidelines (it really is sad), and the guy who can charm the hell out of any admiring girl with a simple smile, and a “Hey...What’s up?” in five seconds flat.
His face is the stuff of sculptures—hard and strong jawline, deep and piercing green eyes, and dimples that show even when he’s not smiling. And as if that wasn’t enough for the gods to endow him with, he has a six pack of abs that he always shows off, with full and defined lips that sometimes even make me wonder what they would feel like.
Nonetheless, I always do my best to avoid Dean Collins like the plague: I leave the four classes we take together early, never go to pep rallies to cheer on the team (Dean is the team), and the few times that he’s attempted that “Hey...What’s up?” thing on me, I’ve offered a blank stare and walked away.
Today, my usual avoidance routine seems to be getting tested, though. Especially since he’s currently standing five feet away from me.
“Yes?” I look up from my canvas and stare at him from across the classroom. “May I help you with something, Dean? You’re not in the art club.”
“I’m aware.” He smirks, looking around the empty classroom. “But it doesn’t look like anyone is in art club...”
That part is true. There’s actually no such thing as “art club” at Central High. It’s just me taking over whatever classroom I can find after school to paint for a few hours.
“We’re currently accepting applications for membership,” I say, setting down my paintbrush in the easel tray. “What can I help you with?”
“You know, I did come here for something.” He steps into the room and closes the door. “But, now that you claim that you’re accepting applications for your club, can I fill one out?”
“We don’t accept douchebags,” I say flatly. “Your application wouldn’t make it past round one.”
“Douchebag?”
“Yes, douchebag. Would you like me to give you the definition?”
Laughing, he tilts his head to the side. “I’m well versed on the definition, Mia Gray.” He stares at me for a long time, looking right into my eyes, giving me his usual infectious charm.
I immediately break our gaze and clear my throat. “You said you came here for something? Can you hurry up and tell me what that ‘something’ is so I can get back to addressing my art club? Today is a very important day for us.”
“Seven,” he said. “And I’m not done. You have a lot of errors you need to know about.”
“It’s already published.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He was smiling. “You need to know about each and every one of them.” He clasped my hand. “Why did you change where we first had sex? It was against the bookshelf, but in your book it’s on my desk.”
“My editor thought that was a better place.”
“My eyes skew towards a lighter blue, not dark blue.”
“Another editorial change.”
“We fucked on way more than one international flight, and you sucked my cock for the first time in New York, not a stopover hotel.”
“Once again, editorial.”
“I also don’t ever recall saying that I loved you that soon in our relationship.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I said what we had was messy and I liked it.”
“So, you don’t love me?” I asked.
“That’s not the point.”
“Care to get to it?” I mocked his voice, and he smiled again.
“The point is, I haven’t seen or fucked you in months, and I haven’t seen or fucked anyone else in months either.” He pressed his lips against mine. “And that, no one else will ever compare. I miss and I love you, and only you. And most of all, I miss fucking you.”
“You really could’ve left that last part out...”
“No, it was very much needed.” He wiped one of my stray tears away. “I love you, Gillian. No matter what, and I think we need to leave this party. Now.”
“Not until I ask you a few questions. I need to know what type of man I’m dealing with tonight.”
“The type that’s going to fuck you the second we make it to the elevator, the type that’s going to take you to his place after that and fuck you all over again.”
I blushed, but remained still. “Why did you take me off your visitors’ list at the hospital?”
“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he said, looking genuine. “Plus, you’d already been there two weeks in a row and I was fine. I wanted you to worry about yourself.”
“Are you the anonymous person who’s been upgrading all my flights to first class for all my recent book signings?”
“Of course not,” he said, smirking. “Only someone who still loves you would do something like that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re very welcome. Is that the end of your questions?”
“No, I have two more.”
“I’ll answer one more.”
“Fine. Is this the part where you propose?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me so hard and reckless that I nearly lost my balance. Then he squeezed my hand and began to lead me toward the elevator. “This is the part where we start a new chapter, one we can write together.”
**The End**
A Letter to the Reader
Dear Incredible Reader, Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review on amazon, B&N, goodreads, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-)
I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. )
Love,
Whitney G.
Also by Whitney G.
To be a part of my mailing list and be notified of release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link.
Reasonable Doubt Full Series
Reasonable Doubt #1
Reasonable Doubt # 2
Reasonable Doubt #3
Sincerely, Carter
My Last Resolution: A Novella
Mid Life Love Series:
Mid Life Love
Mid Life Love: At Last
Twisted Love
(New Adult Romance)
Malpractice
(Erotic Romance)
RESENTMENT
Nicole London
PROLOGUE
MIA
Smalltown, USA
2004
Dean Collins is the most irresistible asshole at Central High School.
He’s your typical cliché, Mr. Popular. The “guy’s guy” who’s been voted “Homecoming King” two times in a row (minus my vote); the sexy star quarterback who’s capable of making grown women swoon from the sidelines (it really is sad), and the guy who can charm the hell out of any admiring girl with a simple smile, and a “Hey...What’s up?” in five seconds flat.
His face is the stuff of sculptures—hard and strong jawline, deep and piercing green eyes, and dimples that show even when he’s not smiling. And as if that wasn’t enough for the gods to endow him with, he has a six pack of abs that he always shows off, with full and defined lips that sometimes even make me wonder what they would feel like.
Nonetheless, I always do my best to avoid Dean Collins like the plague: I leave the four classes we take together early, never go to pep rallies to cheer on the team (Dean is the team), and the few times that he’s attempted that “Hey...What’s up?” thing on me, I’ve offered a blank stare and walked away.
Today, my usual avoidance routine seems to be getting tested, though. Especially since he’s currently standing five feet away from me.
“Yes?” I look up from my canvas and stare at him from across the classroom. “May I help you with something, Dean? You’re not in the art club.”
“I’m aware.” He smirks, looking around the empty classroom. “But it doesn’t look like anyone is in art club...”
That part is true. There’s actually no such thing as “art club” at Central High. It’s just me taking over whatever classroom I can find after school to paint for a few hours.
“We’re currently accepting applications for membership,” I say, setting down my paintbrush in the easel tray. “What can I help you with?”
“You know, I did come here for something.” He steps into the room and closes the door. “But, now that you claim that you’re accepting applications for your club, can I fill one out?”
“We don’t accept douchebags,” I say flatly. “Your application wouldn’t make it past round one.”
“Douchebag?”
“Yes, douchebag. Would you like me to give you the definition?”
Laughing, he tilts his head to the side. “I’m well versed on the definition, Mia Gray.” He stares at me for a long time, looking right into my eyes, giving me his usual infectious charm.
I immediately break our gaze and clear my throat. “You said you came here for something? Can you hurry up and tell me what that ‘something’ is so I can get back to addressing my art club? Today is a very important day for us.”
