Kylie Scott

Kylie Scott – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:31 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Kylie Scott – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 So My Ex-Boyfriend is a Serial Killer Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/so-my-ex-boyfriend-is-a-serial-killer-read-online-kylie-scott Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:31 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/so-my-ex-boyfriend-is-a-serial-killer-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense, Thriller Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)

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Love can be murder, especially when your ex is a serial killer. Don’t miss this spicy new romantic suspense by New York Times, USA Today and Audible bestselling author Kylie Scott!

Nothing prepared Sidney Walsh for the awkwardness of having unknowingly dated an infamous killer. She’s doing her best to move on after her ex got dragged off to jail. If only online amateur investigators, his creepy fans and a particularly belligerent cop would leave her alone. Her social life might be quiet, what with having few friends and the neighbors wanting nothing to do with her. But at least it’s safe. That is until tattooed chef and all-round thirst trap, Noah, moves in next door.

Now Sidney is being asked on dates for the first time in forever, and feeling a dangerous mix of soul-deep connection and red-hot desire. But the darkest moments of her life come crashing back when her ex decides he has unfinished business…her. Will she and Noah make it out alive, and can their love withstand the nightmare of her past?

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

PLAYLIST

“Stick Season” by Noah Kahan

“Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads

“The Body Electric” by Hurray for the Riff Raff

“My Doorbell” by The White Stripes

“Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Moonlight in Vermont” by Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong

“bury a friend” by Billie Eilish

“Saint Elizabeth” by Kaia Kater

“Shake It Out” by Florence + The Machine

“(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by Blue Öyster Cult

“Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood

“And Nothing Is Forever” by The Cure

CHAPTER ONE

Memory is a monster. But we’re doing our best to use mine for good. Muriel, Hana, and I are having our weekly meeting when the new neighbor arrives. We have a month and a half before we walk the trails with the cadaver dogs and I am determined to have a list of possible burial sites by then. Any new thirst traps entering the neighborhood are just going to have to wait.

“Oh, he’s cute,” calls out Hana from the front window. She’s an Asian American postgrad student with perfect bangs and a pastel aesthetic. “Come and see!”

“What does he look like?” Muriel has white skin, short grey hair, and is a retired librarian. She is amazing.

“Tall with tattoos, dark hair, and a vague air of brooding.”

“How can you tell about the brooding?” I ask.

“Oh, that’s easy,” says Hana. “It’s all in the set of the chin.”

We work out of the study at the back of my house. Hana calls it the war room. A large map of the local area including nearby national parks is on one wall, and newspaper clippings about missing women are on another. Then there are the photos I took the year I dated my ex. Happy snaps of him smiling at various lookouts. Selfies of the two of us posing beside streams. Ryan loved hiking and getting back to nature. Guess it’s why he buried the bodies of his victims out in the wild.

“I don’t mind some brooding now and then. How old do you think he is?” asks Muriel.

“I don’t know,” says Hana. “Thirty or so? Not forty. Somewhere in between.”

“They still need too much training at that age,” comments Muriel. “Too young for me.”

“I actually think he’d be perfect for Sidney.”

Muriel snorts. Which is a valid reaction to the idea of me hooking up with anyone.

I raise my head. “Wait a minute. Weren’t you just telling me how much dating sucks?”

“That’s completely beside the point,” says Hana.

Hana and Muriel befriended me nine years ago before the trial. I had already started to keep most people at a safe distance. Cyber sleuths, digital detectives, and armchair investigators have a habit of making my life hell. They either message me demanding information or accuse me of being an accessory and/or psycho killer. But these two women met in an online true crime forum and offered to help me remember all the places my ex had taken me. And they kept offering until I accepted. Because we know Ryan revisited sites where he buried victims’ bodies. He once took me for a romantic picnic where the remains of Briana Petersen were later found.

Six women were reported missing during the year he attended a local college. One was later accounted for—she’d been escaping a domestic violence situation. But only one body has been located out of the suspected five. Finding those four missing women and returning them to their families is our goal. Along with proving my ex was guilty of far more than just one case of manslaughter. And I need to do it before he serves out the rest of his fifteen-year sentence. I will not allow him to hurt someone else. No fucking way.

Most of the local police seem to think he’s just a boy from a good family who snapped for unknowable reasons and made a single horrific mistake. And most of the general public seem happy to go along with this point of view. But it’s bullshit. There is a small online true crime group researching my ex and the missing women. I am not going to sit around and wait for someone to clean up a mess I helped make, however.

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Advertisement Duty and Desire Read Online Aurora Rose Reynolds, Kristen Ashley, Kylie Scott, Rebecca Zanetti http://www.books2020.com/duty-and-desire-read-online-aurora-rose-reynolds-kristen-ashley-kylie-scott-rebecca-zanetti Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:27:07 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/duty-and-desire-read-online-aurora-rose-reynolds-kristen-ashley-kylie-scott-rebecca-zanetti Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Aurora Rose Reynolds, Kristen Ashley, Kylie Scott, Rebecca Zanetti Advertisement

Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)

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Honor, protection, and undeniable chemistry. Duty and Desire brings you heroes in uniform—bodyguards, soldiers, and law enforcers—who will do whatever it takes to protect the ones they love. Filled with action, danger, and steamy romance, these stories prove that sometimes the greatest battles are fought with the heart.

Keeping You by Aurora Rose Reynolds
Quiet Man by Kristen Ashley
Closer by Kylie Scott
and
Vengeance by Rebecca Zanetti

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

CHAPTER 1

TOILET PAPER AND BEER

Bridgett

Sitting in my car outside a random gas station I pulled into to fill my tank, I stare at the message I just received on my phone and feel my throat tighten—not with sadness but frustration. Two months ago today, I moved out of the house my soon-to-be ex-husband Conner and I shared. And since then, he’s made it his mission to make my life hell.

Every day, it’s a text or a phone call asking me to come back to him. And when I refuse, he lashes out. Why he even wants me back is anyone’s guess. He doesn’t love me. I mean, how could he when he’s constantly sleeping with other women and has since we got married? Plus, he wants a child, and I absolutely do not.

Not with him.

I might have done some not-so-nice and really stupid things in the past, but I would never bring a helpless baby into an unstable environment. Which is the whole reason he told me he wanted a divorce to begin with. He found out that I was still taking my birth control after expressing his desire for us to have a baby. Like the decision was solely up to him.

I admit I had second thoughts the first couple of weeks after leaving him because I was really fricking scared, and my mom was adamant that I was doing the wrong thing. But now, I have zero regrets.

Actually, that’s a lie. I have a whole bunch of regrets, but none of them have anything to do with moving out of the house he and I shared or contacting a divorce attorney after he didn’t. Because he only used the topic of divorce as a way to try to manipulate me into giving him what he wanted.

With no choice but to text him back, I drag in a breath, then quickly type a reply, letting him know exactly what my lawyer told me just a few days ago. He cannot, in fact, take my car from me—regardless that it’s in his name—so long as I pay the lease payment every month and keep the insurance up to date. Which I have.

After I send the message, I place my cell in the cupholder, then reach over and dig my wallet out of my bag on the passenger seat. With my credit card in hand, I shove my door open and place one high-heeled shoe on the ground, then the other, before hefting my butt out of the seat. Shoving my Visa into the machine a second later, I wait for it to clear. As the tank fills, I carefully watch the dollar amount since I can’t put more than fifty dollars in if I plan on eating this week.

Over the last sixty days, I’ve learned a lot about not only who I am and who I want to be but also about money and the value of a dollar. Before I moved out of the house I shared with Conner, I never thought about how much gas was or food. Or that an afternoon at the spa costs what some people—me included now—make in a month working full time. I cringe even thinking about that.

If I had been smart, I could have been working while married instead of traveling, shopping, and pretending to be happy—when I was not—and saving every single dollar I made. Had I done that, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now. I would’ve had a nest egg and would have been able to leave Conner without worry after the second time he cheated. The first time, I took him at his word that it was a mistake and would never happen again.

All that said, I now know I will never—not ever—be dependent on another man in my life.

When the pump hits forty-nine dollars, I grab the handle and squeeze the grip lightly until the amount lands right on the fifty-dollar mark. As I’m replacing the nozzle in its holder on the pump, someone shouting catches my attention. I turn in the direction of the building, feeling my stomach bottom out as two men run toward me, both dressed in dark clothing with masks covering their faces. As one lifts a gun in my direction, a balding older gentleman who must be the attendant on duty yells from inside the gas station that he’s calling the police.

“Where are your fucking keys?” the man closest to me barks while the one running with him opens the driver’s side door to my car and gets behind the wheel.

“Got the keys!” the guy inside shouts, and my Benz’s engine turns over while the man with the gun shoves me out of the way so he can open the passenger door, causing me to wobble on my heels. Then, in a blink, they speed off. I stare at the taillights of my car, sure that what just happened didn’t.

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Advertisement Wildflowers Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/wildflowers-read-online-kylie-scott Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:55:55 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/wildflowers-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)

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There’s only one person Dean Wallace wants to save from the end of the world. Sunshine girl from across the road. His neighbor who’s always smiling. Who knows, maybe she can teach him a thing or two about how to live. But saving her against her will is harder than it looks.

Astrid Hardy doesn’t know what to think when she wakes up in her hot neighbor’s basement. He says it’s to protect her from the collapse of society due to a virus. Which sounds like some paranoid conspiracy theory nonsense. Losing her shit seems the correct response.

As they watch the downfall of modern life on the flatscreen, however, and hear the gunshots from up on the street and smell the smoke from nearby burning buildings, it all starts to seem horribly realistic. The real question is…with almost everyone dead and law and order gone…how will they navigate this new world together?

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

CHAPTER ONE

THURSDAY

“Going somewhere?” asks a voice from out of the dark.

I clutch my market bag to my chest. “Shit!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The smile won’t sit straight on my face. Not that he can see it behind my mask. You would think going grocery shopping at nine at night in old jeans and an even older tee would be safe. Of all the times for the dude from across the street to acknowledge my existence.

I’m average height and weight, with my long brown hair up in a messy bun. And there he stands at well over six foot something, shoulders as wide as Montana, dark hair showing traces of gray and giving me daddy issues, along with a jawline sharp enough to make a runway model weep. Fuck.

Which reminds me.

“You forgot your mask,” I say.

“Sorry.” He grimaces. “Promise I haven’t had contact with anyone for days.”

“Me neither.”

“You haven’t?”

“No. One of the many benefits of working remote.”

Some tension in him eases at the news. Which is fair enough. “I didn’t think you’d been out,” he says. “But that’s good to hear.”

I lean my ample ass against my Prius and stare at him, bemused. Because what an odd thing to say. But most everyone is stuck at home now. He must be keeping an eye on the street out of boredom or something.

It’s rare for our neighborhood in Portland, Oregon, to be so quiet. However, traffic tonight is nonexistent. Besides the ambulance speeding past with its siren wailing. The sound of someone coughing comes from the apartment building behind me. And the Thai restaurant on the corner is sadly closed. Probably due to staff shortages. Which sucks, because papaya salad would go a long way toward fixing what’s wrong with me. That being having just about run out of food. But the combination of seasonal allergies and some new strain of flu have made a mess of the city this week.

Hot Neighbor constantly turns his head, glancing up and down the street. Just checking things out, apparently. He’s much larger close up than I realized. Then he looks down at me, and I look up at him, and…yeah. This situation is giving me such a weird vibe. Though I do find beautiful people stressful to deal with in general.

And when I get nervous, I babble.

“The world is so discombobulated right now. Do you know, I tried to get groceries delivered but everywhere was booked out? I couldn’t find a single place. Most of their workers must be off sick. I know the government said to stay home as much as possible. But I’m sure you would agree that when a woman runs out of cake, drastic action must be taken. Some odds are just insurmountable, right? A step beyond what’s humanly possible to endure. Okay. I better go get this done before the shops close.” I reach for the car door. “Nice to meet you.”

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

“You didn’t tell me yours.”

He gives me this smile. The whole time we’ve been talking, he’s had a hand behind his back. I don’t even know why I notice, since it’s just the way he’s standing.

“Dean.”

“Astrid.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.” I open the door. “See you later, Dean.”

Guess I shouldn’t have turned my back on him. But then, I didn’t expect him to attack. Stupid me.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. His arms come swiftly around me from behind. My mask is pushed aside and something covers my mouth and nose. A cloth that’s been doused in some chemical. It smells sort of sweet.

I scratch and kick as my mind spins in dizzy circles. But it all happens so fast, and the world goes dark.

FRIDAY

I wake up on a mattress on the floor. Nothing hurts. That’s the main thing. And my clothes seem to be untouched; only my shoes and mask are missing.

The man sitting on the other side of the room says, “Drink some water. You’ll feel better.”

My mind is a mess. I don’t know whether to be terrified, furious, or what. More information is needed.

On the mattress is a clean white sheet along with a pillow, a padded quilt, and a warm gray woolen blanket. And on the floor sits a worn Persian rug in shades of red. The walls are bare brick, the low ceiling wooden, and the only window I can see is high and narrow and covered in some sort of thick, dark padding. Which means shouting for help is probably a waste of time. This must be the bottom level of his bungalow. Which is reason enough to lose my shit in a variety of ways.

But add the fact that I am sitting inside a makeshift cage, a prison for all intents and purposes, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Like actual solid metal bars cut across the space between us.

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Advertisement Because the Night – A Vampire Romance Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/because-the-night-a-vampire-romance-read-online-kylie-scott Mon, 10 Mar 2025 19:23:13 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/because-the-night-a-vampire-romance-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Vampires Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)

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Waking a monster from its sleep is never a good idea.

Skye Carter is as normal as normal can be. But when she chances upon a man in the basement of an abandoned Hollywood Hills house, she’s suddenly playing tour guide, and introducing a fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire to this century. And who even knows what’s going on with her teeth.

The truth is, immortality can get old—which is why Lucas Thorne went to sleep for seventy years. But he’s back and ready to take on undead enemies and friends alike. In a world where threatening creatures roam the night streets, he’s the most dangerous of them all

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

“Lullaby” by The Cure

“Blossom” by It’s Acrylic

“Hollywood’s Bleeding” by Post Malone

“Bloodletting” by Concrete Blonde

“bury a friend” by Billie Eilish

“I Get A Kick Out Of You” by Ella Fitzgerald

“If We Were Vampires” by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

“Running Up That Hill” by Placebo

“Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven

“Saturn” by SZA

“Dream A Little Dream” by Louis Armstrong

“The Hills” by The Weeknd

“Vampire” by Olivia Rodrigo

“I Am Not A Woman, I’m A God” by Halsey

“Cross Road Blues” by Robert Johnson

“Cry Little Sister” by Gerard McMahon

“Because The Night” by Patti Smith

The house is protected by a tall, stone fence and hidden by an overgrown garden. Given the way the hinges of the wrought-iron gate screech when I push it open, I doubt anyone has been here in years. Which is weird. This Spanish Revival in the Hollywood Hills must be worth a fortune. A weed-infested gravel path leads to the large, arched, wooden front door. Three stories of white walls and terracotta roof tiles tower above me.

My boss, Jen, said to go through the place from top to bottom and make a note of anything that needed to be fixed. Any water leaks or signs of animals, etcetera. The Thorn Group doesn’t normally provide this service. Guess the client is special.

Inside the house, the air is stale, and sheets cover much of the furniture. The place feels like a museum. It has all of the original features, wooden rafters on the high ceiling and French doors opening onto a courtyard. But the overall atmosphere is oppressive as fuck. When I sneeze from the dust, the sound echoes through the empty house. Same goes for my footsteps. The electricity works, but half of the bulbs are blown, and the other half are too dim to be useful. It all adds to the haunted house vibe.

I wander through room after room, carrying the set of heavy, old house keys, peering into corners and under shrouded chairs and tables. There’s no security system, and yet the place hasn’t been touched. It’s nothing less than a miracle. A grand piano and a wall full of leather- and clothbound books take pride of place in the living room. Art and photos and antique mirrors hang on the walls. And a bar cart stocked with half-empty bottles of liquor sits beside the ornate fireplace full of ash. It looks like the owner just up and left—walked out mid-cocktail party or something.

The view is spectacular on the third-level balcony. All of the glamor and grime of the Sunset Strip. Streetlights flicker down below as the sun sinks in the west. There’s an old saying about a red sunset. Some warning of the weather and things to come, but I can’t remember what it is. A cold autumn breeze has me wrapping my cardigan tighter around me. Time to get this job done. There’s a hot bath and a good book waiting for me at home. Though there’s no food, so a grocery stop will be required. A salad from Trader Joe’s sounds good, so does their sea salt brownie bites, because balance.

Taking notes on my cell, I move from room to room as night sets in. The house is in good condition for its age. And if I focus on my work, I can ignore its general spookiness—right up until a branch scrapes against a window, making me shriek.

Shit.

I rub the heel of my palm against my rib cage. My heart is hammering inside my chest. Jen not giving me urgent, last-minute jobs would be great. Exploring abandoned buildings with bad lighting is also officially not my thing. Something I might want to add to my contract moving forward. None of this situation should have happened. I entered Jen’s office to ask for a raise, only to have her forget I scheduled the meeting and send me here.

Having walked through the upper, main, and lower levels (the latter of which is partially set into the hill), only the basement remains. Another of those weak lightbulbs barely illuminates the staircase. I have to force my feet to keep taking the next step and go down there.

The basement is about what I expected: a boiler and storage in one vast room. But the sheer amount of stuff down here is awe inspiring. Furniture and paintings and wooden chests. Endless racks of dusty old bottles of wine. It’s like an antique store and a vineyard had a baby and that child chose chaos.

This is wild. Who owns all of this? How many generations did it take to collect it all?

I plod along, leaving footsteps in the dust. With the way the hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention, it feels as if someone is watching me. Which is ridiculous. But then, I always did have an overactive imagination. If this were one of my true-crime podcasts, the psycho killer would absolutely be about to jump out and grab me. And each and every member of the audience would shake their heads and say what an idiot I was to enter the creepy basement. They would absolutely be right.

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Advertisement Text Appeal Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/text-appeal-read-online-kylie-scott Wed, 30 Oct 2024 13:04:56 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/text-appeal-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)

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Love enters the chat in this hilarious, heartfelt rom com by New York Times bestselling and Audie award-winning author Kylie Scott.

Romance author Riley Cooper always dreamed of living by the water. But within a day of landing in the charming seaside town of Port Stewart to work on her latest book, she's getting calls and texts for some dude on her new number. Weird ones. Sad ones. Sexy ones. Ones that make her want to meet him. For curiosity's sake...if nothing else.

After years of being on-again, off-again with his high school sweetheart, all Connor wants is to move on with his life. If only everyone in Port Stewart would let him. What he needs is to be seen with someone else. So when fate puts him in the path of the new girl in town who got his old number, faking it together seems like the perfect solution.

Spending time with the gorgeous former prom king might be great research for Riley’s romance writing…if only she can keep her feelings in check. But the more she gets to know him, the harder she’s falling. Can their serendipitous meeting turn into something real and true?

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

PLAYLIST

Blue Moon by Billie Holiday

When We’re High by LP

LEVII’S Jeans by Beyoncé, Post Malone

Lovely Day by Bill Withers

Lady Blue by Emily Wurramara

Umbrella by Rhianna, Jay-Z

HONEY (ARE YOU COMING) by Måneskin

We Are Never Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

ifyoulikeitlikethat by MAY-A

Good Days by SZA

Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt

Casual by Chappell Roan

Chemical by Post Malone

Into the Mystic by Van Morrison

CHAPTER ONE

If I hadn’t been bored and lonely, I’d never have answered the text. But I sent out my new number hours ago and only three people responded. My mother, a guy I’d ghosted, and Grandpa. He sent a fire emoji. It’s his answer to everything: Dad sharing his recipe for apple and walnut salad, Cousin Charlie and their partner getting engaged, Great Uncle Doug dying in his sleep… No one knows for sure what he thinks it means, but it enriches the family chat to no end.

But back to me and my sad state. My body might be worn out from hauling my belongings up three flights of stairs (boo to the broken elevator), however, my mind is wide awake. Though that’s not unusual. Insomnia sucks.

Time to check my cell for the hundredth time. There were so many promises to keep in touch from my various friends and acquaintances, but they’re not responding. They’re probably out hitting the bars before heading to brunch in the morning, as per usual. Every weekend at home is the same. Heck. Every day is the same. Which is why, despite being allergic to change, I have made the move from a city in the desert to a small town on the coast.

All my life I’ve dreamed of living by the sea. Most of my childhood was spent watching The Little Mermaid, SpongeBob SquarePants, and The Blue Planet. And to think—it only took me twenty-nine years to get my shit together. While the fantasy was a lighthouse shrouded in mist sitting above a jagged coastline, an apartment on Main Street also works. The lease is for three months. More than enough time to figure out if I belong in the Pacific Northwest.

Like any self-respecting small town, things quiet down after nine when the restaurants close. Though some bars stay open, since it’s Saturday. Two hours from the nearest city, there’s no hum of traffic. But there are still many new noises to distract me and keep me from settling in. The salt wind racing past the big old brick building. The faint strains of jazz music coming from a neighbor’s apartment. And the delightful chime of my cell receiving a text.

Unknown: You can’t just ignore me. We need to talk.

Me: Wrong number.

Unknown: C’mon, Connor.

Me: No one named Connor here. You have the wrong number.

Unknown: Stop lying to me. We’ve known each other too long for this shit.

Me: But not long enough for him to give you his new number, apparently.

Unknown: Ouch. No. I don’t believe it. There’s no way you’d give up boobs.

Me: Boobs?

Unknown: The last five digits of the number. 80085

Me: Ha. I hadn’t noticed.

Unknown: He’s had it since high school. It was his juvenile pride and joy.

Me: Maybe he finally outgrew it.

Unknown: Hang on. You’re his new girlfriend, aren’t you?

Me: No again.

Unknown: I don’t believe you.

Me: Okay.

Unknown: You admit it?

Me: Nope. Just acknowledging that being wrong is a choice you can make. It’s your life.

Unknown: Giving you his cell and getting you to deal with me sounds about right. The last time we spoke he was not happy. Do you make him happy?

Me: I don’t even know him.

Unknown: I don’t believe you. Things have changed. Tell him I need to talk to him.

Me: He still isn’t here.

Unknown: I wouldn’t give him the cell either if I was you.

Me: When did you two last actually talk?

Unknown: Christmas.

Me: Yikes. That’s months. The relationship sounds broken. Have you thought about putting it in a bag of rice?

Unknown: Very funny. Time for another drink. Hotel mini bars are the best. I don’t usually get to meet his female friends. Guess I should introduce myself.

Unknown: Hi. I’m Ava. What’s your name?

Hmm. Logic would suggest I block her and move on with my life. As sad, pathetic, and sleepless as it might currently be. However, writers are notoriously nosy creatures. Especially when it comes to relationship drama, and I write romance.

Me: Riley.

Ava: Nice to meet you. Sort of.

Me: I don’t know your story, but is he worth all the angst?

Ava: You haven’t heard about me? Are you new to Port Stewart?

Me: You’re from Port Stewart?

Ava: Yeah. Born and bred. Connor and I were high school sweethearts and we’ve been on and off ever since.

Me: How long is that now?

Ava: Fifteen years. Are you planning on staying in town?

I hesitate again. It’s one thing to exchange nonsense texts with a random stranger. However, giving details about my life and location doesn’t feel safe. Not that she has asked me anything which might identify my new address. The conversation just seems weird suddenly. Weirder. You would think area codes cover a decent distance. What are the odds these people would be local?

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Advertisement The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/the-last-days-of-lilah-goodluck-read-online-kylie-scott Tue, 27 Feb 2024 19:57:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-last-days-of-lilah-goodluck-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)

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“Be quiet and listen: He is cheating on you. The name of your soulmate is Alistair George Arthur Lennox. You will be passed over for the promotion. The winning numbers are 5-8-12-24-39-43. And I’m very sorry to tell you this, but you will die next Sunday.”

When Lilah Goodluck saves the life of Good Witch Willow as they’re crossing a busy L.A. street, the last thing she expects is five unwanted predictions as a reward. Who gives someone the winning lotto numbers then tells them they’ve only got a week to live? And who believes in that nonsense anyway?

But when the first three predictions come true within twenty-four hours, Lilah’s disbelief turns to mild panic. She’s further horrified when she nearly runs a car off the road that belongs to Alistair Lennox, who just happens to be the illegitimate son of the British king.

While Alistair is intrigued by her preposterous story, Lilah is adamant about resisting the heat between her and the playboy prince. If she denies he’s her soulmate, then the last prediction can’t come true, right? As the days count down, they become maybe friends…and then maybe more. But between the relentless paparazzi and some disapproving royals, finding time for love isn’t easy, especially when her days may be numbered.

Red White and Royal Blue meets The Last Holiday in this delightfully quirky novel from the New York Times bestselling author of End of Story, about a woman who unexpectedly finds "fall in love with a prince" at the top of her bucket list.

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

1

Friday

Good Witch Willow is unhappy at me for keeping her waiting. This is made obvious by the way she glares up at me through her wire-rim glasses while tugging on one of the crystal pendants around her neck. Like it is going to take help from beyond to stop her from slapping me silly or something.

“Lilah,” says my best friend with much patience, “why are you like this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just ask her a question already.”

Rebecca (not Becca or Becky) does have a point. It’s not like I haven’t known this moment was coming for weeks now. She wanted to do something fun for her birthday and every other entertainer had already been booked. A lot of birthday parties in March, apparently. Guess everyone has sex in the summertime.

The private room at the back of the bespoke cocktail bar off Santa Monica Boulevard is close to capacity and a song by Hozier plays over the speakers. We stand at one of the tall round bar tables with the remains of a charcuterie board and a flickering tea light in a vintage jar. The walls are painted a bright turquoise, but the vibe is relaxed. It should be a great night. I want it to be for my friend’s sake. But I am anxious and distracted and not in the mood at all, dammit.

“I honestly don’t have one,” I say. “I’m sorry. I told you this wasn’t my thing.”

Rebecca groans and downs more than a mouthful of her whiskey sour. It’s her party, she can self-medicate if she wants to—and apparently, she does.

“What do people normally ask?”

Good Witch Willow is older with white skin and long gray hair in a braid. She’s exactly what I imagined a witch would look like when I was a child. A dramatic long lace dress and plenty of chunky jewelry. Instead of answering me, she glances at her smartwatch and announces, “That’s your two hours up. I’m out of here.”

Rebecca gives me a look.

Good Witch Willow wastes no time, packing her tarot cards, a travel-size crystal ball, and a collection of brightly colored crystals back into her large velvet tote.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Rebecca for the second time. “Though your work bestie hogging her for over forty minutes to ask about his fantasy football team didn’t help. And your neighbor that needed that emergency love potion. I wonder if she’ll actually manage to find Keanu Reeves and persuade him to drink it.”

Rebecca just raises her brows.

“You have to give it to her, it’s a beautiful dream,” I say. “But my point is you, my friend, are popular. There are a lot of people here. The chance of Good Witch Willow getting around to everyone was always going to be low.”

“Just admit you’re all up in your feelings about your boyfriend again.”

“I am worried about Josh.” I take a sip from my gimlet. “He said the headache was really bad, that it was messing with his vision.”

“That actually doesn’t sound good,” she reluctantly agrees.

“Yeah. I really think he needs to see a doctor, but you know what dudes are like.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve pretty much made it my life mission to not know what dudes are like.” She takes another sip of her drink. “You’re going to rush home to play nurse instead of going dancing with me, aren’t you?”

“Rebecca, can you predict the future?” I fake gasp. “And you never told me... That hurts. Wait. Did you know that was going to hurt?”

She gives me an amused smile and raises the remains of her drink in a toast. We’ve been best friends since sharing a dorm room in college about a decade ago. She’s petite with dark hair and olive skin. I, on the other hand, am more of a robust blonde. They didn’t spare the tits and ass when they made me.

“Go on. Abandon me, then,” she says. “But you owe me.”

“How about I take you out to dinner next week? To that Japanese place you love?”

“No complaining when I eat all the salmon sashimi.”

“Agreed. Happy almost birthday. Talk to you tomorrow.” I set my mostly empty gimlet on the bar and give her a hug. “Don’t go home with Priya. You know you’ll only regret it. Again.”

“But she’s brilliant and beautiful and emotionally unavailable. She’s exactly my type.”

“Oh my God. It’s like you just proved my point.”

“Get out of here, loser.”

I smack a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Rebecca. Make good choices.”

Despite the late hour, there are still plenty of people around. The road is glossy black from a recent storm, and puddles on the sidewalk reflect the lights from the bars and restaurants. I huddle down into my cardigan against the cold night air. There’s a small convenience store open on the other side. Just perfect for picking up Tylenol since I have no idea how much we have at home, and Josh might need more. Better safe than sorry.

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Advertisement End of Story (End of Story #1) Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/end-of-story-end-of-story-1-read-online-kylie-scott Sun, 26 Feb 2023 20:45:12 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/end-of-story-end-of-story-1-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Authors: Kylie Scott Series: End of Story Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

"Kylie Scott’s unique voice and engrossing story are perfect for fans of Sarah Hogle and Tessa Bailey"— Library Journal

New York Times bestselling sensation Kylie Scott’s sexy, smart and unconventional opposites-attract love story looks at what happens when fate refuses to give up on what’s meant to be…

When Susie Bowen inherits a charming fixer-upper from her aunt, she’s excited to start living her best HGTV life. But when she opens the door to find that her contractor is none other than her ex’s best friend, Lars—the same man who witnessed their humiliating public breakup six months ago—she isn’t exactly eager to have anyone around whose alliance is with the enemy. But beggars can’t be choosers, and the sooner the repairs are done, the sooner she can get back to embracing singledom.

Things go from awkward to unbelievable when Lars discovers a divorce certificate hidden in a wall and dated ten years in the future—with both their names on it. It couldn’t possibly be real…could it? As Susie and Lars work to unravel the document’s origins, the impossibility of a spark between them suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched. But would a relationship between them be doomed before it’s even begun?

“Sweet and spicy—the unique setup, top-notch banter and charming enigma had me hooked.” —Anna E. Collins, author of Love at First Spite

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

One

“This is awkward.”

The big blond man standing on my doorstep blinked.

“How are you, Lars?” I gave him my very best fake smile. “Nice to see you.”

“Susie. It’s been what...five, six months?” Setting down his toolbox, he gave me an uneasy smile. It was more of a wince, really. Because the last time we saw each other was not a good night. Not for me, at least.

“Something like that,” I said.

“This your new place?” He nodded at the battered arts and crafts cottage. “The office said you had some water damage you wanted to start with?”

“Yeah, about that. I was told Mateo would be doing the work.”

“Family emergency.”

“Oh.”

He gazed down at me with dismay. The man was your basic urban Viking marauder, as his name suggested. Longish blond hair, white skin, blue eyes, short beard, tall and built. I was average height and he managed to loom over me just fine. In his midthirties and more than a little rough around the edges. Nothing like his sleek and slick bestie. An asshole whose continued existence I’d prefer to be reminded of never. But we don’t always get what we want.

I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll show you...”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry about taking your boots off. The shag carpet isn’t staying.”

Heavy footsteps followed me through the living room and into the dining room, where we turned left to enter the small hallway. From this point we had two options, the bathroom or the back bedroom. We headed for the latter.

“The water was getting in through a crack in the window for who knows how long,” I explained. “I only inherited the place recently. There were all these boxes piled up in here. No one could even see it was an issue.”

He grunted.

“I spent the first month just sorting through things and clearing the place out.”

Beneath the window frame, a large stain spread across the golden-flecked wallpaper. As if it weren’t ugly enough to begin with. That was the thing about my aunt Susan; she wasn’t a big fan of change. The two-bedroom cottage had belonged to her parents and everything had pretty much been left untouched after my grandparents passed. Apart from the addition of Susan’s junk. Which meant that while the wallpaper and carpet were from the 1970s, the bathroom was from the 1940s, and the kitchen cabinets from the 1930s. At least, that’s what I’d been told. The place was like an ode to twentieth-century interior design. The good, and the bad.

He got down on one knee, inspecting the damage. “The bottom of this window frame is warped and needs replacing.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I need to have a look behind here. You attached to the wallpaper?”

“Heck no.”

He almost smiled.

“The sooner I can repaint and get new flooring down, the better.”

Nothing from him. A knife appeared from the toolbox, sharp-pointed with jagged teeth. He punched the blade through the drywall with ease and started cutting into the wall.

“How is he?” I asked the dreaded question. Curiosity was the worst. “Enjoying London?”

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“And how’s Jane?”

“We’re not together anymore.”

Not a surprise. Lars went through various girlfriends during the year I’d been with what’s-his-face. Neither he nor his friend were down with commitment. Which was fine if you just wanted to have fun. But Jane was a keeper, smart with a wicked sense of humor. Lars definitely had a type. All of his girlfriends were petite, perfect dolls who behaved in a ladylike manner. The opposite of buxom, loudmouthed me.

He pried a square of drywall loose. “You thinking of living here permanently or flipping and selling the place, or what?”

“Haven’t decided.”

“Great location. A bit of work and it’d probably be worth a lot of money,” he said, keeping the conversation on the business at hand. As was good and right.

Using the flashlight on his phone, he inspected the cavity. The man was all handyman chic. Big ass boots, jeans, and a faded black tee. All of it well-worn. And the way his blue jeans conformed to his thick thighs and the curves of his ass was something. Something I hadn’t meant to notice, but oh well, these things happened. Maybe it was the way his tool belt framed that particular part of his anatomy. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. I was butt struck. Which was both wrong and bad. It would not be smart for me to notice this man in the sexual sense. Though it was nice to know my thirst meter wasn’t broken.

I don’t know if Lars and I were ever really friends. We had, however, been friendly. Though that was romantic relationships for you. One moment you had all of these awesome extra people in your life and the next moment they’re gone.

I tugged on the end of my dark ponytail. An old nervous habit.

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Advertisement Beginning of the End (End of Story #0.5) Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/beginning-of-the-end-end-of-story-0-5-read-online-kylie-scott Sat, 07 Jan 2023 22:47:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/beginning-of-the-end-end-of-story-0-5-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Drama, Romance Authors: Kylie Scott Series: End of Story Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 8838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 44(@200wpm)___ 35(@250wpm)___ 29(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 >10

When her boyfriend announces he’s accepted a yearlong contract in London, Susie’s relieved that Aaron suggests a long-distance relationship. But then it makes her think. Is it her imagination, or does he seem just a little too eager to leave? Is she reading too much into his excitement to hit the British pub scene? And all relationships cool off after a while…right? As Aaron’s departure approaches, Susie confides in her favorite aunt and best friend to help her figure out—is this the beginning of the end or just the beginning of something even better?

Don’t miss this sharp and sassy prequel novella to New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott’s new book, End of Story!

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

One

“You’re moving to London?” I asked stupidly for the second time.

“It’s a big opportunity for me.” Aaron pushed aside the remains of his short rib vermicelli noodles. As if he’d suddenly found them distasteful. This wasn’t the first pout he’d pulled on one of our dates. Being an only child, he tended to be used to getting things his own way. Which could be kind of frustrating. We’d been a couple for a while. Long enough for the honeymoon period to be over, apparently. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I, um...yeah. It’s just a surprise, you know?”

A frown crossed his handsome face. “I’ll only be gone for a year.”

Around us, people ate and chatted and enjoyed their Tuesday night out. The Vietnamese café was a popular spot by the water in Ballard, Seattle. It had a high ceiling and cool, modern pendant lights. And the people at the next table had now picked up on my boyfriend’s unhappy vibe and terse tone of voice and were not-so-subtly listening to our conversation. Ugh. People. Seriously. If only you could order a cone of silence along with your entrée.

“Of course I’m excited for you,” I said.

“Are you?”

After almost a year with Aaron, it was depressing as all hell to know I still wasn’t getting this relationship stuff right. Still not supporting him in the way that he wanted. I turned thirty this year. It shouldn’t have been this hard. But here we were. Our initial plans for tonight were to have dinner at my place, order some delivery, and relax. Then at the last minute he changed his mind and wanted to go out instead. Call me curious.

“Did you decide to tell me in a restaurant because you were worried I’d get upset?” I blurted out before sanity could stop me. My mouth was like that sometimes: no filter to be found.

“What?” He hesitated for a moment. “No. Of course not.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know...”

“You’re my partner, Susie. My girlfriend.” He smoothed a hand over his slick dark hair and straightened his tie. “I wanted to go out and celebrate, share this important news with you.”

I just nodded. Something inside of me, however, was unsettled. I was not quite convinced. Time to pull up my big-girl panties and ask the big question. “How do you see this affecting us, Aaron?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and slumped back in his seat. Which was not promising. “Why does anything have to change?”

“We’ll be living in different countries for a start. That’s kind of big.”

“Yeah.” His gaze skipped around the room. “But like I said, it’s temporary.”

Sitting on the edge of my seat, I leaned in closer to him, just narrowly avoiding dipping my ample bosom and my new black cashmere sweater in the bowl of spicy lemongrass tofu. “So you’re saying you want us to try a long-distance relationship? Is that what you’re saying?”

He jerked his chin in a nod. And that was all.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “For a minute there I thought you were breaking up with me.”

“You and your imagination. You’re always so emotional.” He reached out and patted my hand with a smile. “We’re having fun, aren’t we? We’re good together?”

“Sure.”

“That’s what matters.” He picked up his beer and downed a mouthful. All while the women at the next table watched on admiringly. It happened all the time. Aaron was movie-star handsome. Six feet tall with dark hair and an athletic build, while I was of average height and weight with pasty skin that refused to tan. We complemented each other, I think. But I digress. Add Aaron’s natural confidence and a nice-fitting suit and you had a man who commanded a lot of attention. He basically looked like a modern Prince Charming. So it was a pity he was a little backward about his feelings. However, no one was perfect. I was most certainly not, but still the man chose me. And considering I didn’t have the greatest track record with relationships, I counted this as a total win.

The longer I sat there and thought about us being in a long-distance relationship, the more positives came to mind. Things had been a little off between us lately. The last few months, I guess. His tendency to get wrapped up in his work and friends and so on had escalated. Sometimes it seemed as if I wasn’t a priority. Like I hadn’t made it onto his to-do list. And it had been a while since I had felt like I had his full attention.

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Advertisement Just What I Needed – Stage Dive Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/just-what-i-needed-stage-dive-read-online-kylie-scott Thu, 10 Nov 2022 23:01:59 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/just-what-i-needed-stage-dive-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Contemporary, Novella, Romance Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kylie Scott comes a story in her Stage Dive series…

When the Stage Dive crew decides to help, they do it in a big way.

Nanny and housekeeper Jude has been going through a dry patch. Getting ready to dip her toes back into the dating pool is a little nerve racking. And the offers of assistance from her boss, David Ferris, and his band are not helping. Right up until music producer Dean Jennings arrives to work on the band's latest album.

But Dean is more than a little wary of dating anyone with anything to do with the Stage Dive crew after losing Lena to lead singer Jimmy Ferris all those years ago. Can Jude a) Convince the crew to stay out of her business and b) Woo the man of her dreams?

**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**

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

One Thousand and One Dark Nights

Once upon a time, in the future…

I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

library at my father’s home and collected thousands

of volumes of fantastic tales.

I learned all about ancient races and bygone

times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

people through the millennium. And the more I read

the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

become part of them.

I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

would not be telling you this tale now.

But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

with bravery.

One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

and I had read that by the time he met Scheherazade,

the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

women.

Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

never occurred before and that still to this day, I

cannot explain.

Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

protect herself and stay alive.

Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

you now.

Chapter One

There are reasons why people with careers like mine don’t tend to date. Most notably, when the hell would we find the time and energy?

I regularly chase after a small child up to six days a week. It depends on what’s going on with the family. My day usually starts at eight despite Jameson waking at around six or so. And it finishes at different hours depending on what’s happening. Some celebrity parents want a nanny to be available twenty-four seven. Some would even basically like you to raise the child in question.

Once, for instance, I was offered a job living in an apartment with two children under the age of two while the parents occupied a mansion nearby. Their plan was to drop by once a day, time permitting, to visit with their kids.

I declined that one.

But the people I work for currently, David Ferris (from the world-famous rock band Stage Dive) and his wife Evelyn, are more hands-on. Which is great. And more importantly, they enjoy waking with their son, allowing me to keep my sacred morning rituals intact.

The truth is, I don’t want to start work any earlier than eight. I hate having to fake being a morning person. It’s rude and wrong and shouldn’t be allowed. Both my faith in humanity and ability to get things done is vastly improved after two coffees and a long, hot shower. With emphasis on the words long and hot. The move from L.A. to Portland has been great. I enjoy being back in my hometown. What I do not love, however, is the weather. And November in Oregon is colder than I remember. Guess I got soft down in California. But the coldness—and the constant chasing after a toddler—has seemed to contribute to my sex life.

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Advertisement Pause – Larsen Bros Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.books2020.com/pause-larsen-bros-read-online-kylie-scott Sat, 17 Jul 2021 00:50:43 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/pause-larsen-bros-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Contemporary, Romance Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

Read Online Books/Novels:	Pause - Larsen Bros
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Kylie Scott
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B091J8SM2J
Book Information:
Listening Length 6 hours and 17 minutes An unpauseable new romance from New York Times bestselling, Audie Award winning author Kylie Scott! When Anna wakes up from a coma after a car crash, she discovers life has gone on without her. Her husband has been unfaithful—with her best friend—and she’s been long since replaced at work. While her old life is a distant memory, her new life feels like an empty shell. Then she meets the stranger who saved her life during the crash, and he changes everything. Leif Larsen—tattooist, joker, and player—has his own scars thanks to the crash that put Anna in a coma. Helping her move on from her failed marriage, and create a new life, sounds like a perfect distraction. So when he needs a new roommate, he invites Anna to begin her new life with him. Although their lives may have been put on pause, together they just might find a way to heal.
Books by Author:	Kylie Scott

PLAYLIST

“Bust Your Windows” by Jazmine Sullivan

“Mad Woman” by Taylor Swift

“Wildflowers” by Tom Petty

“Feeling Good” by Nina Simone

“killing boys” by Halsey

“Adore You” by Harry Styles

“Beyond” by Leon Bridges

“Jackie and Wilson” by Hozier

PROLOGUE

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Or try to ask. Only my throat is sore and dry, so my voice barely rises above a whisper. Not even swallowing seems to help. “Mom?”

She wipes away the tears in a rush. “Sweetheart.”

Everything in the strange white room seems hazy and insubstantial. I blink repeatedly, trying to clear my view. There’s a vase of fading pink roses sitting on a small side table and I’m hooked up to a drip along with an array of machines. My body is one long, dull, horrible ache. What the hell happened?

“You were in an accident,” says Dad, answering the question I hadn’t yet asked. He rises from a chair in the corner of the room. “Do you remember?”

Before I can answer, Mom’s there with her tremulous smile. “You’ve woken up before, but never for long. You keep going back to sleep.”

None of this makes sense. “What . . .”

“The doctor told us that we have to ask you how you’re feeling and what you can remember,” she says.

“W-wait,” I stutter. “Where’s Ryan?”

They share a worried glance.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“What do you remember?” Mom perches on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Can you move your fingers and toes?” asks Dad.

“I feel confused and frustrated.” I stop to swallow again. Still not helping. “But yes, my fingers and toes are fine.”

Mom rushes to fetch a plastic cup full of water with a straw sticking out for me. I try to take it slow, try to just sip it, but it tastes so good.

“I don’t remember an accident,” I admit once I’m finished.

“Another car hit you and you lost control.”

They both wait for me to react. For recognition to strike. But I’ve got nothing. “When?”

“Let’s wait for the doctor,” says Mom, wringing her hands.

“Just tell me. Please.”

“It’s the fourteenth of February.” Dad straightens his tie in a rare show of nerves. “That’s the date today.”

I frown. “No. No, that can’t be.”

Mom nods, adamant.

“What?” I ask, incredulous.

“Seven Months. Yes,” says Dad.

“It’s a long time to be in a coma. No one thought you’d wake up.” Mom balls up a Kleenex in her hands. “The doctors said . . . it doesn’t matter what they said now. You’re a medical miracle. I knew you’d be okay. My daughter’s a fighter.”

Holy shit.

While none of this makes sense, it’s all too real to be a joke. Not that my parents have much of a sense of humor. But there’s nothing false in my mother’s pained eyes. The last thing I can remember was it being July and we were at home planning a barbeque. Only a summer storm hit on my way to the store, the first rain in over a month. Then nothing.

Seven months of my life just gone. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. Summer, autumn, and winter. A whole half a year. It can’t be. It isn’t possible.

My brain won’t cooperate and even attempting to lift my hand is a strain. It doesn’t look any different, but I’m so damn weak and locked up. And where’s my engagement ring, my wedding band? Guess they took them off me for security reasons, but still. I don’t like it.

“Where’s Ryan?” I ask again.

Dad flinches.

Mom turns away.

“Where is my husband?” This time my voice is trembling. There was no one else in the car with me. Ryan stayed home to sweep the deck and clean the grill. To get everything ready. I don’t remember anyone being in the passenger seat. But then I don’t remember an accident either, just some vague shadowy dreams. This is hell.

“Oh, sweetheart,” says Mom, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“He isn’t . . .” I can’t say the word dead. I don’t want to even think it. “What happened?”

“He’s on his way.” Dad slips his cell phone back into his pants pocket, all while avoiding my eyes. “Just try and stay calm, Anna. Getting all upset about the situation won’t help anything.”

Despite my father’s words, my breath comes faster. A full-on panic attack all of about two seconds away. Not easy to do from a prone position, but I’m giving it my best damn shot. “What the hell is going on?”

CHAPTER ONE

THREE MONTHS LATER . . .

Leif Larsen lives in a big old brown brick building with a sprawling dogwood out front in a cool urban neighborhood. No one answers when I press the buzzer. But according to the details on the scrap of paper the nurse gave me, I’ve got the right place.

What to do?

The rational response would be to give up and go home. Because hiding out in my childhood bedroom has worked out great so far (and this would be sarcasm). It’s been months since I left the house for anything other than a medical appointment. Weeks since I’ve heard from any friends. Right on cue, my cell buzzes inside my tan Coach purse. I don’t bother to look. Mom requests proof of life every hour on the hour. Not even dinner at the country club can distract her, apparently. Her parental concern for me is well past claustrophobic.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

Pause - Larsen Bros

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B091J8SM2J

Kylie Scott