That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.
The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life
Rejected No More: I Am Way Out Of Your League, Darling!
My Coldhearted Ex Demands A Remarriage
His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius
Pampered By The Ruthless Underground Boss
The Warlord's Lovely Prize
The Unwanted Wife's Unexpected Comeback
Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine
Comeback Of The Adored Heiress
"TFH!" The letters gasped out. Verbal
acronyms were something she rarely
used, but hours under the scorching
sun had Marissa Duplei's skimpy shirt
plastered to her skin and the strength
sapped from even her voice.
Being in
the midst of a crowd of equally hot
bodies intensified the suffocation. Her
closest friend, Olivia, habitually voiced
text abbreviations and had no trouble
interpreting
"Too Fucking Hot'.
"You're such a vampire! When
did you stop having fun?" Olivia
complained as they wove through the
throngs of scantily clad partiers.
"We used to be on all day beach patrol."
Her friend referenced their younger
years in their Mississippi coastal towns
and their non-stop troll for guys who
could stop a girl dead in her sandy
tracks. Back then, Spring Breaks and
summer months brought vacation
flings, and temperature had never once
been a complaint.
A refreshment trailer was an oasis
just off the sand, and Olivia passed
her plastic through the tiny window.
Feeling the cool blast of air escaping in
the transaction, Marissa moved closer
as more interesting plastic was pushed
to their side along with the return of
Olivia's credit card.
Curving her fingers around the base
of the cold cup, she wiped at beads
of sweat forming near her hairline.
Idly, she wondered how the newest
Scan drugstore clearance mascara currently
coating her lashes was holding up.
Olivia closed glossy, red lips around
the straw of her super-sized hurricane
drink. Marissa had no doubt that
Liv's lipstick, as well as anything else
painting her face, was a department
store brand priced in, or near, triple
digits, assuring a worTry free day from
smearing or disappearing. Taking a
pull from her own straw, she eyed
the surrounding crowd as the cool
alcoholic slush trickled soothingly
down her throat.
"Better?" Olivia sweetly inquired.
"Much!" Marissa sighed the
assurance and shoved the cheap
sunglasses higher on her nose.
Curving
a smile, she made an effort to seem
thrilled to stroll the 'Hang Fest,' a
yearly festival of live bands, rides, and
vendors.
"Good," Olivia grinned. "Proceeding
with Phase One."
"Ugh.. This time her sigh was one of
annoyance.
Up until now, the mission had been
momentarily abandoned, not aborted,
and she mentally cursed Kel for the
thousandth and one time.
Walking in last week on her fiancé
Kel, with some tramp straddling him
had been devastating.
Worse, there
was a twisted irony of forever knowing
this faceless bitch's name due to it
being a permanent stamp above her
slim butt. The image was branded in
Marissa's brain just as permanently.
Hibernating, she had mopedin
misery around her apartment binge
eating granola bars and yogurt. Olivia
became the only person she spoke
to, wailing to her face, whining into
her calls, and texting chapters of Kel
hatred.
When she quit sending Kel's
pleading and apologetic calls straight to
voicemail, Olivia charged to the rescue
heading up 'Operation Save Rissa From
Herself
Since Olivia's answer to breakups
was hook ups, the given mission today
was to pick herself up, dust Kel off, and
get dirty with someone else.
Just thinking about a random
hook up was terrifying. When it
came to men, Marissa was out of
practice. A local casino was her place
of employment, and the sexy smiles
rehearsed in the mirror were for better
tips from blackjack players, not real
live flesh and bone players.
Olivia sent a look of encouragement
as they paused at the fence jutting
up to the stage platform. Olivia also
worked at the casino, and a backstage
pass tipped to her by a player at her
craps table had her hoping to meet and
mingle with her metal idols.
Marissa had no such aspirations.
Besides not having a laminated access
card, she couldn't care any less about
any of these bands.
"Ten o'clock, Rissa." Direction, and
not time, was the subject of her friend's
clipped, enthusiastic sentence, and as
instructed, Marissa slung her gaze to
the slight left.
A long, lanky roadie had paused
in the stage set up and was currently
honing his attention over the front
area to the two of them.
Olivia held up the badge swinging from her neck.
Nervously knowing that her own
success in passing this hallowed line
would depend on her flirting abilities,
Marissa shuffled her feet.
Putting the awful events of the
previous week behind her, she
mustered her sexiest smile and her
first 'strange' flirt in five years. After
gesturing that he would come to them,
the roadie finished the tear down of a
microphone stand.
"Score!" Olivia did a jig before
grabbing Marissa's wrist and towing
her closer to the gate.
Vaguely, her excitable friend rattled on about which
band members, from which bands,
in which order, she wanted to bang.
Mindlessly, Marissa listened as a severe
case of cold feet set in, and working
through a mild panic, she focused on
her friend instead of the area beyond
the fence.
Bending at the hip, Olivia raked
manicured fingers through her scalp
then flipped her thick mane of hair as
she straightened.
Draining her drink to the last slurp,
Marissa desperately hoped an alcohol
confidence would quickly kick in.
A few paces away, she trashed the cup
ignoring her friend's silent censor.
With the cup, refills were half-price,
and Olivia, despite blowing her money
on designer everything, was into
saving money on alcoholic anything.
"He's coming!" Olivia's frown
disappeared, and she thrust her hip out
as she whispered. Marissa took it as a
hint to strike a similar sexy pose.
Although, initially, he had been
several hundred feet away, recognition
came easy, and the roadie was even
hotter close up. A ponytail of straight
brown hair was elasticized at the nape
of his neck, and heated hazel eyes
perverted them both.