Monday, October 30, 2017

#CoverReveal: Crank by Adriana Locke




Title: Crank
Series: The Gibson Boys #1
Author: Adriana Locke
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Kari March
Release Date: November 10, 2017



Blurb

This is one mistake Sienna Landry can’t buy her way out of.

As Walker Gibson looks at her, then at the damage to his precious truck (that she may or may not have accidentally inflicted), she knows she’s in trouble. It’s not the busted headlight and dented grill that’s sunk her though. It’s the downright sinful man in front of her that’s the problem.

The small town mechanic is broody. Rough. Smells like engine grease and gasoline and Sienna isn’t sure why that’s so sexy, but it is. It so is. She’s ready to peel off her panties at the drop of his wrench.

He wants her too. She can feel it when he brushes against her. Experience it as he presses her against the wall of the shop. It’s thinly veiled in his deep, brown eyes when he looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever wanted. So why won’t he give in?

The damage to Walker’s truck is the first of many mistakes between the two of them, ending with truths that rock Sienna’s world. Nothing can fix her broken heart except the love of a man that won’t, maybe even can’t, love her back.

Crank is a standalone romance in a new small town, blue-collar series from USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke. Join readers everywhere as they fall in love with the delicious Gibson Boys. 







Author Bio

USA Today and Amazon Top 10 Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.

Please contact Adriana at www.adrianalocke.com. She loves to hear from readers.


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Tuesday, October 24, 2017

#ReleaseBlitz #Review: Alpha Mail by Brenda Rothert




 

Alpha Mail by Brenda Rothert

An adult standalone, contemporary romance

Released October 24, 2017!

BUY IT NOW!

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble

 

Book Blurb

Sienna Mills knows her alpha males. They brood. They growl. They love the word “mine”. After spending her early twenties in and out of relationships with alphas, Sienna used her knowledge to found Alpha Mail, a booming business that allows women to sign up for emails, letters, and texts from their own brooding, red-blooded man. Her star is on the rise and Sienna is attracting the interest of investors when a mysterious man starts messaging her about the true nature of an alpha. She’s got it all wrong, he says, and he’s willing to show her how a real man makes women respond. The more Sienna hears from him, the more aggravated she becomes. Who does this anonymous, supposed alpha think he is, anyway? And yet…she can’t deny his messages are becoming the best part of her days. Commitment-phobic Sienna finds herself wanting more from her sensei of seduction. But is she willing to trust her heart to an alpha again?

 

 Review

We all have those go to authors that we don't even think about it twice when we #oneclick. Brenda Rothert is one of those authors for me, and the amount of heart that she put behind Alpha Mail just comes to cement that.

Never judge a book by its cover they say, while this is not completely truth with this book, there is so much depth and so much heart behind this particular cover.

Sienna Mills is an intelligent, accomplished business woman, who based on her romantic experiences with men who proclaimed themselves to be alpha males opens her own business for women interested in the alpha part of the guys without the actual relationship hassle. Genius idea that's bringing Sienna recognition and the financial stability she needs to take care of those she loves most. It would seem that Sienna has everything she ever wanted, but there's something missing, and that's when RoughRider16 comes into play, the mysterious stranger who's committed to show her what an alpha male is really like.

While I laughed at a certain scene until I had tears in my eyes, I swoon at the beautiful words that RR16 would communicate to Sienna, I also cried for a little boy that is losing a battle against an unforgiving disease. You would love the tenderness that you see in this characters towards that boy,the despair of a mother and best friend who know what the future awaits, and the overwhelming love they have for each other against all odds.

Alpha Mail is a soul defying kind of story, a story that show us that maybe we had it all wrong when it came to relationships, that is until someone comes along and show us how amazingly beautiful it is not only to love those who we care about fiercely, but to have someone love us with such intensity and passion that our lives will never be the same.

Highly recommended!!!



---------------------

AUTHOR INFORMATION

BRheadshot

Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.

AUTHOR LINKS

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | | Wattpad | Amazon

InkSlinger Blogger Final

#NewRelease: My Pin-Up Girl by Nicky Fox





Hunter
I’m a farmer. I love to have my feet planted on the dirt and my hands digging in the soil. I don’t expect to have my hands on the new enticing morsel next door. She bakes me an apple pie and prances around in these sexy red boots. I’m a Southern boy with manners. The way I’m thinking about that girl is anything but friendly.

Lenora
I’m a painter. I’ve moved to the countryside for some inspiration. There’s inspiration alight, right next door. When my horse dumps me right in this cowboy’s lap. He comes to my rescue while shirtless. What’s a girl to do? Sometimes you got to take a bull by the horns and giddy up.

When Hunter’s farm becomes in jeopardy will their love stay strong or will it buck them off on their keisters?




Nicky Fox
Nicky lives in the Big D, Dallas, Texas that is. She loves reading romantic books with sexy times and loves writing them even more. Nicky is a ninja, stationery addict, and a movie buff. She eats cookie dough while she writes. If you like long walks on the beach, steamy books with sexy man candy then Nicky is your girl.  

Monday, October 23, 2017

#ReleaseBlitz: The Bachelors by ES Carter


It is a well-known fact that a single man without a penny to his name must be in want of a rich wife. . .


Title: The Bachelors
Author: E.S. Carter
Release Date: October 23, 2017

Blurb

It is a well-known fact that a single man without a penny to his name must be in want of a rich wife.

Darcy, Bingham and Wick Austen are about to lose the family business.

Without a miracle or a substantial cash investment, Austen's - the bookstore chain that was established by their great-great grandfather - will go into receivership.

A chance encounter at a charity ball with the attractive, single and filthy-rich Bennet sisters has Wick Austen convincing his brothers that the way to save their livelihoods rests at the Bennet's red-soled-shoe clad feet.

But these three women are far more than your average, simpering, society-loving heiresses.

Darcy isn't so sure about his youngest brother's plan, especially when the smart, feisty and ridiculously sexy Eliza Bennet shoots down his advances in a ball of flames, and accuses him of being a proud and egotistical jerk.

Meanwhile, Bingham meets the sweet and approachable Jane, and insta-love ensues, and Wick gets used up and spat out by the youngest and most flighty sister, Lydia.

Will the Austen bachelors secure a wife and save the family name or will they become the Bennet sister's latest conquests?

*Inspired by Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, The Bachelors is a contemporary twist with added naughtiness*

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35483752-the-bachelors

Purchase Links



Excerpt

“I’ll take a Dirty Martini,” the man to her back said, the smile in his voice evident with every word.

Lydia remained silent and focused on her task, spotting a corkscrew in a small tray of implements just below the counter.

“Isn’t it rude to ignore a paying guest?” he continued, his tone still humorous.

Lydia rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her and punched the tip of the corkscrew into the cork. As she twisted, he continued to talk to her back.

“Careful,” he warned. “You’re going to force it into the bottle, and the trick is to get it out, or you’ll spoil the wine.”

Her hand paused mid-twist, and she turned to face the man once more. She stared at him for a beat, until his face began to look uncomfortable under her gaze and she watched him fight the need to squirm under her scrutiny.

“What are you looking at?” he queried, attempting to mask his discomfort under bravado, but Lydia knew men. She knew how to entrap them, seduce them or even scare them away.

Passing her gaze from his waist to the top of his head and back to his eyes, she stated flatly, “Your father’s incorrect use of a condom.”

The man’s gaze widened briefly before sharpening, and Lydia awaited his response, enjoying this game more than she’d thought she would.

“Are you trying to insult me?”

“I would love to—” she continued, twisting hard against the corkscrew and watched him gloat when the cork slid deeper into the neck of the bottle before plopping into the liquid below. Unperturbed she finished, “—But I fear I would not do as well as nature already has.”


Author Bio

ES Carter lives in Cardiff, South Wales. The home of castles, dragons and folklore.

Her family joke that she was born with a book in her hand, and the urge to write stories soon followed.

At eleven, she won her school's literary prize. At ages fourteen to sixteen - her poetry phase after falling in love with Dylan Thomas and e.e. cummings - she had a few poems published, but life, love and family overtook her dreams, and she was in her thirties when she began the scary journey of self-publishing.

Her debut and internationally best-selling series, 'Love by Numbers', are a set of interconnected stand alone romances, all with varying themes of love. From second-chance to romantic comedy and M/M romance. These stories do not need to be read in order, in fact, she is often guilty of advising readers to start at the last book and work their way back through.

Contemporary romance is not the only genre she writes, her second series, 'The Red Order', is as dark and twisted as you can get, but there is beauty there too if you can open your eyes and look.

With many more stories bursting to be set free, she hopes you stay along for the ride.

She loves to connect with readers, so please feel free to friend/follow her on Facebook, IG and Twitter or join her reader's group, E's Elite

Author Links



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Thursday, October 19, 2017

Release Blitz Week: Most of You All by Mia Sheridan




ABOUT THE BOOK

MOST OF ALL YOU by Mia Sheridan
On sale: October 17, 2017 | Forever | Trade Paperback: $14.99 | eBook: $4.99



SUMMARY

"Heartbreaking...inspiring, uplifting and raw..." ― RT Book Reviews, A 5-star Gold Pick

A broken woman . . .

Crystal learned long ago that love brings only pain. Feeling nothing at all is far better than being hurt again. She guards her wounded heart behind a hard exterior and carries within her a deep mistrust of men, who, in her experience, have only ever used and taken.

A man in need of help . . .

Then Gabriel Dalton walks into her life. Despite the terrible darkness of his past, there's an undeniable goodness in him. And even though she knows the cost, Crystal finds herself drawn to Gabriel. His quiet strength is wearing down her defenses and his gentle patience is causing her to question everything she thought she knew.

Only love can mend a shattered heart . . .

Crystal and Gabriel never imagined that the world, which had stolen everything from them, would bring them a deep love like this. Except fate will only take them so far, and now the choice is theirs: Harden their hearts once again or find the courage to shed their painful pasts.



BUY THE BOOK HERE

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2uN4spa
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2uNn5JB
Books-a-Million: http://bit.ly/2yJ7kps
IndieBound: http://bit.ly/2wAyXki



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mia Sheridan is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. Her passion is weaving true love stories about people destined to be together. Mia lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband. They have four children here on earth and one in heaven.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

Add Most of All You to your shelf on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uvpZY4

Giveaway
Widget to win 1 of 10 paperbacks.




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Monday, October 16, 2017

Cover Reveal: Mr. All Wrong by R.C. Stephens

MAW_CR_HEADER

Sometimes it's so right to be wrong! Mr. All Wrong by R.C. Stephens releases December 4th! Genre: Contemporary Romance
CHECK OUT THE SUPER STEAMY COVER!

MrAllWrong Amazon

Photographer: Ben Cummings  
Model: Jase Dean  
Designer: Sarah Hansen/Okay Creations
FOLLOW R.C. FOR RELEASE DAY ALERTShttp://bit.ly/2yiowDn  
ADD TO YOUR TBRhttp://bit.ly/2yfncDE


BLURB
The first time I met Evie Harper, she threw a cream pie at my face. I actually hadn’t met her, just saw her. It was more like she hated everything I stood for and showed me her opinion with an airborne cream pie. Yes, she smacked me front and center on my face. The second time I saw Evie, I didn’t realize she was the cream-pie-throwing bandit, and she took my breath away in a flowing red gown at a gala. Of course I couldn’t resist her looks, so I asked her to dance. She called me a schmuck and stalked off. My own Cinderella ran away from me. I shouldn’t have chased her down. We were all wrong for each other. But her fire red hair and feisty personality reeled me in, and I was hooked. Chicago’s most renowned playboy was finally falling head over loafers. At least it felt that way because she was like no other woman I’d met before . . . Evie was special . . . Problem was I had trust issues when it came to women. Freud would’ve probably said it was my mother’s doing. Somehow Evie made me believe in her . . . trust her . . . Big damn mistake! One I hope I won’t live to regret . . . But then again how could someone so wrong for me turn out to be so damn perfect?

MAW_CR

About R.C. Stephens
R.C. Stephens was born in Toronto, Canada. She graduated from York University with a master's Degree in Political Science. R.C. is an avid reader, so when she isn't cooking for her clan or on her laptop writing, she's snuggled tight with her Kindle devouring any romance novel she can. Okay, with the exception of Thursday nights. She makes time for Scandal and Vampire Diaries. She's a fan of drama and suspense but she's also a sucker for a happy ending. Her husband was her first teenage love. They live together with their three children in Toronto. Loving Canadian winters she could never think of living anywhere else.

Find R.C. Stephens Online! 
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2i9lBZN 

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

#ChapterReveal Hooking Up by Helena Hunting



#ChapterReveal
Hooking Up by Helena Hunting


Chapter One

Wedding Unbliss
Amie
This is the happiest day of my life. I allow that thought to roll around in my head, trying to figure out why it doesn’t seem to resonate the way it should. This should be the happiest day of my life. So I’m not exactly certain why the uneasy feeling I associate with cold feet is getting worse rather than dissipating. I’ve already done the hard part; walked down the aisle and said “I do.”
My husband excused himself to go to the bathroom several minutes ago and, based on Armstrong’s itinerary for the day, speeches are supposed to begin promptly at eight-thirty. According to my phone, that’s less than two minutes from now, and he’s not here. The emcee for the evening is awaiting Armstrong’s return before he begins. And then the real party can start. The one where we get to celebrate our commitment to each other as partners for life. As in the rest of my breathing days. Dear God, why does that make my stomach twist?
I sip my white wine. Armstrong pointed out that red is not a good idea with my dress, even though it’s my preference. Besides, I don’t want it to stain my teeth. That would make for bad pictures.
I glance around the hall and see my parents, who are probably celebrating the fact that I didn’t walk down the aisle with a convicted felon. And frankly, so am I. My dating history pre-Armstrong wasn’t fabulous.
The sheer number of people in attendance spikes my anxiety. Speaking in front of all of these people makes me want to drink more, which is a bad idea. Tipsy speeches could lead to saying the wrong thing. I check my phone under the table again. It’s after eight-thirty. The longer Armstrong takes to return, the further behind we’ll get. The music playlist, devised by Armstrong with painstaking efficiency, leaves no room for tardiness. If we don’t start on time I’ll have to take out a song, or possibly two, to compensate for his delay and he’s selected the order in such a way as to make that difficult and that will annoy him. I just want today to be perfect. I want it to be reflective of my decision to marry Armstrong. That I, Amalie Whitfield, can make good choices and am not a disgrace to my family.
“Where the hell is he?” I scan the room and take another small sip of my wine. I should switch to water soon so I don’t end up drunk, especially later, when all of this is over and we can celebrate our lifelong commitment to each other without clothes on. I’m hopeful it will last more than five minutes.
Ruby, my maid of honor and best friend for the past decade, puts a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like Bancroft to find Armstrong?”
Bancroft, or Bane for short, is Ruby’s boyfriend who she’s been living with for several months. Recently I find myself getting a little jealous of how affectionate they still are with each other, even after all this time. Cohabitation hasn’t slowed them down on the sex or their PDA. I have hope that Armstrong and I will be more like Bane and Ruby now that we’ll be sharing the same bed every night.
I’m about to tell Ruby to give him another minute when a low buzz suddenly fills the hall. It sounds like a school PA system. I start to panic—they can’t start the speeches without Armstrong at my side. What’s the point of speeches if the groom isn’t present?
I’m halfway out of my seat, ready to tell the deejay, or whoever is behind the mic, he needs to wait, when a very loud moan echoes through the room. The acoustics are phenomenal in here, it’s why we chose this venue.
I glance at Ruby to make sure I’m not hearing things. Her eyes are wide. The kind of wide associated with shock. The same shock I’m feeling.
Another moan reverberates through the sound system, followed by the words, “Oh, fuuuck.”
A collective gasp ripples through the now-silent crowd. While the words themselves are scandalous among these guests, it’s the voice groaning them that makes me sit up straighter, and simultaneously consider hiding under the table.
“Fuck yeah. Ah, suck it. That’s it. Deep throat it like a good little slut. Fuuuuuccckkkkk.”
My mouth drops and I look to Ruby to ensure I have not completely lost my mind. “Is that—” I don’t finish the sentence. I already know the answer to the question, so it’s pointless to ask. Besides, I’m cut off by yet another loud groan. I clap a hand over my mouth because I’m not sure I’m able to close it, my disbelief is as vast as the ocean.
Ruby’s expression mirrors mine, except hers is incredibly animated since she’s an actress. “Oh my God. Is that Armstrong?” Her words are no more than a whisper, but they sound very much like a scream. Oh no, wait, that’s just Armstrong on the verge of an orgasm. But these sounds are nothing like the ones he makes when he’s in the throes of passion with me.
I clutch Ruby’s hand. The next sound that comes from him is a hybrid between a hyena laugh and a wolf baying at the moon. And every guest at our wedding is hearing the same thing I am. Our wedding. Someone other than me is blowing my husband at my own wedding. My mortification knows no end.
I grab the closest bottle of wine and dump the contents into my glass. Some of it sloshes over the edge and onto the crisp white tablecloth. It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty more where it came from. I chug the glass, then grab Ruby’s.
People lean in and whisper to each other, eyes lift to the speakers. A few people, the ones who are probably just here for the social-ladder-climbing potential, question who it is.
“Is the deejay watching porn?” That comment comes from a table full of mostly drunk singles in their early twenties.
Several eyes shift my way as I carelessly down Ruby’s wine and someone asks where the groom has disappeared to.
The grunts and groans grow terrifyingly louder. This is nothing like what I’m used to in bed with Armstrong. The dirty words aren’t something he ever uses with me, mostly it’s just noises and sometimes a “Right there” or “I’m close,” but that’s about it. He’s never talked to me like he is to the woman currently providing oral pleasure. And I’m very adept at oral. Although with Armstrong it’s very polite, neat oral, with no sounds other than the occasional hum. Slurping is uncivilized and a definite no-no.
I reach past Ruby for the bottle of red since I don’t really give a flying fuck about purple teeth right now. As I sink low in my seat I pour another glass of wine, surveying the people in the ballroom from behind the cover of the centerpiece. The centerpieces are huge and excessive and I don’t like them at all, but at least provides a protective barrier between the guests and my disgust, which I’m certain they must share. He sounds like a wild animal rutting. It is entirely unsexy. I have no idea who he’s getting intimate with, but I’m suddenly very glad it’s not me.
And doesn’t that tell me more about our relationship than it should.
It’s only been about thirty seconds—the most humiliating thirty seconds of my life—before Armstrong comes. How do I know this? Because he says, very clearly, “Keep sucking, baby, I’m coming.”
And “baby,” whoever she is, makes these horrific gurgling noises. It sounds like some form of alien communication. It’s way over the top, and apparently Armstrong is loving it, based on the string of vile profanity that spews from his asshole mouth.
“Holy crap. Is this for real? That was really fast,” Ruby mutters.
I guzzle my glass of wine. Then decide the glass is unnecessary and take a long swig from the bottle before Ruby snatches it away. Wine dribbles down my chin and onto my chest, staining the white satin purple. My dress is ruined. I should be freaking out. But I really don’t care.
“Come on,” Ruby tugs on my hand. “We need to get you out of here while people are still distracted.”
My older brother Pierce and the emcee are standing in the middle of the hall, gesturing wildly to the speakers above us. My other brother, Lawson, is on his way toward the podium in an attempt to do something. I don’t think there’s anything he can do to stop this train wreck from there.
Ruby tugs again, but I’m frozen, still trying to figure out what exactly just happened. Well, I know what’s happened. I just can’t believe it.
The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes follows. “Thanks for that, now I’ll be able to last later tonight,” Armstrong says.
“What about me?” A female asks. Her voice is nasally and whiny.
“What about you?”
“Well I helped you, aren’t you going to help me?”
“Didn’t you come with a date?”
“Well, yes, but—” God her voice is familiar. I just can’t figure out where I know it from.
“My cousin, right? He loves my sloppy seconds. Speeches are starting. I gotta get back to my ball and chain.”
Gasps of horror ripple through the room, followed by a few giggles. These people really are assholes.
I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t believe he’s going to come out here and pretend nothing just happened. Like some other woman didn’t just have her lips around his cock. His distinctly average cock. Maybe even slightly below average in length, if I’m being one hundred percent honest.
A door opens and closes.
Lawson turns on the mic behind the podium and taps it, sending screeching feedback through the room, making people cringe. Too bad no one did that a minute ago.
Murmuring grows louder and glances flicker to the head table and then away as Brittany Thorton, a seriously skanky debutante, comes strutting through the doors, using a compact to check her lipstick. She’s made it her mission to attempt to get into the pants of half the eligible men in this room. She’s followed, not five seconds later, by a very smug-looking Armstrong.
“I’m going to kill him.” I grab the closest steak knife, but it appears my hasty, and possibly felonious, plan is unnecessary. My brothers leave their respective posts and stalk toward him. Across the room my mother is gripping my father’s arm, whispering furiously in his ear. Great. Just what I need, additional family drama.
“Oh shit,” Ruby gasps.
I follow her gaze to find Bane converging on Armstrong with my brothers. Bancroft is a tank and he used to play professional rugby. I’ve seen him with his shirt off, he’s built like a superhero and he’ll probably crush Armstrong, or at least break something. Possibly multiple somethings.
For a second I consider that Ruby should probably stop Bane from destroying Armstrong’s pretty, regal face, but then I realize I don’t actually care. In fact, the possibility that he might break Armstrong’s perfectly straight nose fills me with glee. Armstrong’s wellbeing is no longer my concern, it’s more about Bane ending up in prison for murder.
“I hope Armstrong has a good plastic surgeon, he’s going to need it once Bane is done with him.” Ruby echoes my internal hopes and her chair tips as she jumps up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” She nods to the right.
I notice my mother and father engaged in a heated discussion with Armstrong’s parents. I really don’t need this right now. Not the drama. Not the humiliation. All I wanted was a nice wedding. Instead I end up with a husband who gets a blow job during our reception—and it’s broadcast to everyone attending.
Ruby urges me into action. “Don’t worry about them. Get your stuff and we’ll get you the hell out of here. I’ll have the limo meet you by the entrance near your bridal suite as soon as I can.”
I nod and stumble unsteadily to my feet, thanks to having consumed the better part of a bottle of wine in the last minute and a half. It’s amazing how ninety seconds can change a person’s entire life.
All hell breaks loose as more men jump in to either pummel or extract Armstrong from the pummeling. I grab my clutch and phone from the table, gather up my stupid, too puffy gown, and head for the bridal suite, where I had prepared for what was supposed to be the most amazing day of my life. And now it’s likely the worst, at least I hope the mortification level I’m experiencing can’t exceed this. I feel like the foulest version of Cinderella ever.
I rush down the empty hall and grab the doorknob as I fumble around in my clutch for the key. I’m surprised when it turns. I thought I’d locked it before we left for the ceremony. Regardless, I need to get away from everyone before I either lose it or commit a felony. Maybe both. Murder in the first. Armstrong will be my victim. And maybe that horrible skank, Brittany.
I thrust the door open and slam it closed behind me, locking it from the inside. Tears threaten to spill over and ruin my makeup. Not that it matters since there’s no way I’m going out there again. I can’t believe my forever lasted less than twelve hours. I can’t believe the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life loving couldn’t be faithful to me for even one day. What the hell is wrong with me? With him? I’m as devastated as I am angry and embarrassed. Once I annul this farce of a marriage I’ll become a spinster. I should probably go ahead and adopt six or seven cats tonight.
“I need to get out of this dress,” I say to myself. I reach behind me and pull the bow at the base of my spine. Instead of unfurling, it knots and I only succeed in pulling it tighter. Of course my dress has to be difficult. I growl my annoyance and rush over to my dressing table where my makeup and perfume are scattered from earlier today. Half a mimosa sits unconsumed beside the vase of red roses Armstrong had delivered.
The card read: I can’t wait to spend forever loving you.
What a load of bullshit. I drain the contents of the champagne flute, not caring that the drink is warm and flat. Then I throw the glass, because it feels good and the sound of shattering crystal is satisfying. Next I heave the vase of roses, which explodes impressively against the wall, splattering water and shards of glass across the floor.
I yank out a couple of the drawers and find a pair of scissors. They actually look more like gardening shears and seem rather out of place, but I don’t question it. Instead I reach behind me with my back to the mirror and awkwardly try to cut myself free. It’s not easy with the way I have to crane my neck.
“Goddammit! I need to get out of this stupid dress!” I yell at my reflection. I think I might actually be losing it just a touch now. I stop messing around with the laces in the back and shove the scissors down the front. I nearly nick myself with the blade—they’re a lot sharper than I realized—but that doesn’t slow me down. I start hacking my way through the bodice; layers of satin, lace, and intricate beading sliced apart with every vicious snip.
I just want out of this nightmare.
 

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