Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Ella Edwards has been left in broken pieces after her ex-boyfriend, Connor’s latest atrocity.
Still, the professional entertainer who has made her career fulfilling clients’ filthy fantasies, is determined to get back up on her feet.
In traditional Naughty style, this tale brings an extreme and explosive set of proposals, leading to the final outcome of Ella’s Agency journey.
Be prepared to buckle up and enjoy the many rides.
There are a lot of them.
TV stars, businessmen, men in workshops seeking a thrill… this book has it all. A varied selection of jobs that will put Ella back on the hardcorer map she adores.
It ends with a very Merry Christmas to all of ‘The Naughty List’ readers out there.
It’ll sure be the climax you’ve been waiting for
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
The days have blurred into a bleak mess of torment over the past five weeks, and my former life of filthy clients and smoking hot fantasies feels light years away.
Since my asshole ex Connor used his newfound fame to reveal me as the ‘hooker love of his life who betrayed him’, I’ve been back in the shell I used to crawl into before I worked for The Agency.
Ella Edwards is now a search term used by hundreds of thousands, known only as a spiteful whorish piece of shit. And that’s putting it nicely.
All the online drama chewed me up and spat me out, and I feel nothing like the Ella Edwards I’d blossomed into. I feel nothing like me anymore.
I’m no longer the proud professional hardcorer who built my reputation at The Agency. All I’ve been doing since Connor’s grand announcement is retreat further and further inside, desperate for numbness.
It’s ironic really.
I spent so many years hiding inside myself while I was with him, pursuing his drive for glory and not my own. Retreating into a shell was second nature to me.
I still struggle to believe that the arrogant asshole managed to fuck my life up, all over again.
As a result, my boyfriend Josh and I are now holed up in an Airbnb on the outskirts of London, far from our luxury Belgravia apartment. Far away from home.
I thank my lucky stars every day that I still have Josh beside me. He’s my rock in the storm. My shining light, no matter how dark I feel inside. When the shit hit the fan and the pieces went flying, he was there for me, every step of the way.
Just a shame I’m not taking very many steps at all right now.
I’ve only been outside this little backstreet apartment once, on a mission to get some ice cream from the local store – the only time I built up enough courage to face the outside, dressed in a baggy hoodie with no makeup on. My heart pounded so hard I felt my pulse in my temples.
As soon as Connor blurted out my identity and set the wave of public hate alight, I deleted all of my social media accounts, changed my phone number, and blocked myself off from the world.
I hate this new reality I’m living in.
I hate being here in this Airbnb. I hate missing out on the career I loved and built from nothing. I hate binge watching reality TV while Josh is out on his proposals, working hard.
Goddamnit, how I miss proposals of my own. I miss all of my clients, but there is one massive loss in particular. One that brings tears to my eyes just thinking about him.
Heath.
My favourite client of them all.
The main character in my favourite TV show, Nighttime Whispers, and a man that dreams are made of. Too bad mine are now nightmares. I can’t bring myself to watch even a single episode and see even a hint of his beautiful vampiric smile.
Heath holds a piece of my heart after our week in Cannes together, and I know Josh misses him as badly as I do. Probably worse. He’s just better at keeping a lid on it. Like he is with everything else.
My amazing boyfriend has been determined to keep things as steady as possible to get us through this, going back to work as soon as he knew I was safe to be alone.
My Agency profile is currently listed as temporarily unavailable. Still on pause like it was while we were away in Cannes. I’m aching to log back in and see if I have the option of setting it back to live, but I’m scared. At the top of the Agency’s priorities is keeping confidentiality and anonymity, both for clients and entertainers. Connor gave that the middle finger, well and fucking truly.
I’m curled up on the sofa yet again tonight when I hear the front door. Josh steps inside fresh from a high-end proposal, and his suit looks divine.
“Hey, you.” He sits down next to me and pulls me in for a hug. “How are you doing?”
“Same old.” I fake smile. “I’ll survive. I’ve got another eighteen episodes to watch of Cake Baker before the season ends.”
Josh normally buys into my humour, but this time he doesn’t smile along.
“It was five weeks this morning, Ells. Five whole weeks since we’ve been here.”
“Yep. I know. It’s practically ingrained into my soul.”
He reaches for the remote and turns the volume down.
“Honestly, we’re going to have to tackle this. We can’t stay trapped in here for ever, and there is only so much Cake Baker you can watch. You’re missing out on so much, baby. So damn much.”
Oh, don’t I know it. That knowledge is rife in the very air.
Josh has the undeniable scent of sex about him, and up close he’s dishevelled from his proposal. The purple streak at the front of his gorgeous dark hair looks like it’s been tugged. Hard. The top button of his shirt is still undone, tie not in position. Fuck, how I miss that kind of dishevelment. Crazy wild nights with clients, serving their fantasies and raking in the cash for it.