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the boring but important stuff

D E T A I L S a n d T H I N G S

There's a preview below the boring stuff:

This was going to be an entry into the #justwriteit Twisted Revenge Prompt but unfortunately I didn't finish in time. But I still decided that I wasn't going to stop when I already had the thing mapped out.

I will try to entertain everyone with as much talent as I have. Whether it's good or not is up to you, the reader. It won't be a traditional mafia story. Because honestly, I am not a huge fan of those types of stories. Therefore I probably won't ever be writing them.

Sorry.

《 Certain parts WILL have mature themes! Can't having these youngsters reading about down and dirty before their time! Sorry, but not really. 🙈

T O P I C S: addiction, psychological issues, sex, serious illness and death. Other thematic elements in mature themes include violence, drug use, nudity and language .

These may be discussed and described.

Reader discretion is advised!

Those I will tell you about in advance. You've been warned!

Please DO NOT copy someone's work!

All works are first drafts only, and any grammatical errors will be fixed in due time. You can also leave a comment where the error occurred in the story for to help me!

│ This story won't be perfect and that's okay, cause what is? Writing it's not exactly easy. No matter what anyone says.

Any thoughts on the story can also be left by the parts you hate or love. But he constructive please. Don't leave actual hate comments. Bullying should never be tolerated. In any form.

As always, thank you for checking out this book! And taking your time to get to know my mind.

Don't let the cover fool you! There's so serious shite about to go down inside here!

S P E C I A L   P R E V I E W

My head feels heavy, like I've been drinking all night. The cotton sheets brushing against me feel foreign yet tantalizing. Had I been dreaming again? I took an ambien last night after Lila left. It's been close to six months since I've need to take one. Not since the night I want to forget ever happened. I knew better but after not sleeping for forty-eight hours, you start to hallucinate.

I definitely wish I was hallucinating or dreaming. Either one is better than the present. Because if what I feel laying against my back and draped over my hip is real. Then I am in big trouble. The perfect explanation would be that I have some side affect that I've never had before from the ambien. I blink several times to make sure I am really awake. I am facing the edge of the mattress with my back to my window. Glancing at the mirrored dresser across from me, I die a little on the inside, because it is impossible to ignore the man laying on bed beside me. I can see his reflection in the mirror.

Fucking. Great.

I know him. Of all the men in this city, it would have to be him. It's the icing on the cake. My revelations make reality that more prominent so that I take notice that my traitorous hormones is actually loving the foreign body pressed up against me. Raising my hand I poke the muscular arm that's casually laying over my hip. It's firm and sinewy and tan with blonde hairs that slant across it. Of course it's real. A million questions flood my mind's with last night's could be indiscrestion.

You can use this to your advantage.

No.

What am I saying? I shake my head in attempt to clear any more disturbing thoughts from it. This never happens in real life. This only happens in books and on television. The arm begins to move, his hand slowly sliding up my stomach. It's destination is clear. It's making headway up to my tits. I feel that a certain part of this man likes me, though it could be morning wood. I'll go with the former for my ego. I can't help but think of the monster running up my back. Thank God I'm not naked because it's bigger than anything I've ever felt. I lay still, somehow mesmerized by the size of his hand and fingers. They are long and thick with some scabs dotting the top and sides.

What the hell am I doing?
I am letting myself get groped by this man? In my bed. In my house! I jump out of bed, flinging the arm off me and dragging this sheets and comforter with me. Swiftly I turn around to see the idiot that has made himself home in my bed. Which in hindsight probably wasn't a good idea.

Holy mother of macaroni.

I'd be lying if I said that Dane Goodwin hadn't played out in my darkest fantasies, who incidentally is totally naked. I mean I knew that since I felt his...appendage on my lower back. But to confirm it, up close and personal, was something I wasn't honestly banking on. But I see that the rumors are true. I try not to look in that direction and let my eyes land on his firm stomach and travel up his muscled chest, following the dark swirls and lines of his tattoos. I can't see much more of his face other than messy hair and his infamous profile since the rest is covered by a pillow. Even from this angle, anyone with eyes could see how gorgeous he is. Which is a chiseled mess. I mean mess in a annoying beautiful heartbreaking way. A handcrafted work of art. Intense jaw line with prominent cheekbones and of course it wouldn't be complete without a perfectly straight nose. If I'm being honest, to see him up close and personal was better than anything I've seen in the papers.

His eyes are closed but I know he has these haunting sea green eyes framed by the darkest lashes. His equally blonde hair, is just long enough for fingers to curl into it and pull. There's no doubt that someone has done it. As for the rest of him, which was obviously created by some Greek god. I'd like to think I'm a smart, I know how to separate fact from fiction. I'm a semi-realist, but I sometimes had trouble coloring between the lines. But even I know the man laying in my bed is bad news. Considering I had met the jackass earlier in the week. Something my stepfather had arranged. Neither of us were happy about it. We had to play along and be nice. He thinks I'm just a plaything in my stepfathers tower. But he couldn't be more wrong. Because I don't back down from a fight, especially when I'm so close to finding out the truth.

And I will. No matter what I have do to find it.

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All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Space and time have been rearranged to suit the convenience of the book, and with the exception of public figures, any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author's.

Copyright © 2021 Romi Wick

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