Drew
I hate
the lies you tell.
For as long
as I can remember, everything in my world has been fake. The happy nuclear
family. The loving parents. The close father-son relationship. The respectable
family business. All lies. I’ve had it with the pretense and the show, but I’m
been trapped on a dizzying merry-go-round of deception, and I can’t get off.
So when
she’s thrown unexpectedly into my path, and I discover she’s just another fake,
I need to make her pay. Little do I know, the deceit runs deeper than I
imagined, and nothing is as it seems.
Kik
I tell
the lies I hate.
I hate the
lies and the pretense, but if I ‘m going to achieve what I want in life,
they’re a necessary evil. Truth is, I’ve mostly made peace with the idea. What
I’m doing is a means to an end, and the end definitely justifies the means.
Besides, it’s not forever—nothing ever is.
Everybody
has to do what they have to do, right? I can live with that. Kinda. Sorta.
Maybe. At least I can until he comes bursting into my life, and is determined
to tear down everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
When Drew emerged from the shower my breath hitched at the
sight of him. Even beaten, battered and bruised, he was beautiful. His hair was
still wet, slicked back away from his face, revealing the deep gash above his
eyebrow in all its glory. He was going to have a scar there whether he had
stitches or not, but I figured it would be worse if he let it heal without
getting it seen to. Stupidly, I couldn’t help but think that the scar would
probably suit him.
The fact was, the whole beat-up vibe was really doing it for
me. Not only that, but it totally suited what I knew of his personality. For
someone with a mean, controlling streak as wide as his, the beefcake, preppy
look he normally rocked was kind of false advertising. The world should
probably be forewarned that below the cool, calm and buttoned-down exterior, a
wild animal lurked just below the surface.
Case in point, if the sorry state of his knuckles—bloodied
and bloated—was anything to go by, however badly off he was, the other person
went away looking at least as bad, if not worse. They definitely weren’t
defensive wounds.
I tried not look below the waistband of his gray sweats as
he headed toward me, but it was like trying not to lick my lips while eating a
sugar donut—the more I told myself not to, the more I was compelled to do
exactly that. Not wanting to overtly leer at him, I quickly skirted past the
obvious, and brought my eyeline down to his bare feet as he crossed the room.
Big mistake. Big. Huge.
There was something so intimate about him padding about like
that, it had me freaked me out. What the fuck was I doing cozying up and
playing nursemaid to a guy I hated for twenty-three and a half hours a day, but
who knew exactly how to make me love him for the other thirty minutes?
MV ELLIS knows what it’s like to fall head over
heels in love with a badass musician. She followed her heart halfway around the
world to be with one. She moved from London to Sydney after a steamy holiday
romance with a sexy bass player in sultry Brazil.
Twelve years, two children and a dog later, and she’s still
smitten. All this with a guy she sat next to on a bus for 36 hours! She has
toured internationally as a “WAG,” and her experiences inspire her writing.
Ellis’s love of romance began when she was 11 years old,
after a summer spent secretly reading her auntie’s books. She’s been a sucker
for an alpha hero and strong heroine ever since.
An avid reader, Ellis always knew she’d write a book of her
own one day. She was right about that. Following a career spanning advertising,
marketing, and social media, she finally wrote her debut novel, Catching
London in 2017.
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