Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I’ll do anything I can to afford the flights.
Anything.
Thank God, I have a friend online who can help me out. A friend who introduces me to the agency she works for, and blows my dirty mind open wide.
There’s lot of money to be made – so long as you’re willing to get down and filthy for it.
And me? Desperate to spend the holidays with my family?
I’ll be doing everything on the Naughty List I possibly can…
Author’s note: If you’ve read any of my books before, you’ll know what to expect from me. Imagine pulling the kinks from my other stories, packing them up into one extra filthy holiday novel, and wrapping it up with a pretty Christmas bow. All that’s left is for you to unwrap my gift…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
“Hey, Ella! How are you doing, sweetheart?” Mum asks me.
My parents are glowing onscreen, with the warmth of the Australian sun behind them. Their beautiful house looks so inviting in the background, and Mum’s tan really suits her. Sydney has always suited the pair of them, a dream come true. It’s lovely to see, always, but tonight I get a pang in my chest, knowing they are so far away. No matter how hard I fight it, the truth is the truth.
I’m a heartbroken girl who wants her mum and dad.
I have to hide it. No tears, whatsoever. I don’t want my eyeliner to run and give the game away.
“I’m good,” I lie, knowing how much they worry about me. They have always been so protective.
I was an unexpected surprise when they were into their forties, having given up on ever having kids. They’d doted on me as the only child, and they’d fought back hard when they reached retirement age, saying I was too young to be left behind, but I’d insisted. Hard. I had my own life to lead, and it shouldn’t stop them living theirs.
I was twenty-one when they emigrated. Old enough to be living my own life without them handholding me. Fine. No big deal. Video call is always just one click away, and it’s cool. It’s great. It’s almost like being in the same room.
Or so I’d thought…
Now, here, at twenty-four, I want nothing more than to be right there beside them. I want to admit the truth and be a kid again in their arms.
My new ‘life’ in London isn’t quite how I expected it to be when I packed up and moved down here with Connor last winter. I’m glad Mum and Dad’s dreams have panned out better than mine. Except I don’t have any. Not really. They weren’t my dreams I’d been chasing when Connor and I upped and left for the bright lights of the city together. My dreams aren’t the reason I’m living here, in a crappy house share with people I don’t like.
It's taken a horrible, hard look at myself to realise that.
I fell in love with Connor Preston on sight when he appeared in the year above me at high school. He was the hot, punky weirdo who stole my heart, and I’d caught his eye since we first crossed paths in the maths hall. I was already dying my hair jet black by then, and wearing gothic rosary beads with my school blazer.
Call it destiny… or fate being an asshole.
I’ve been following Connor’s dreams ever since then, because I believed in him. His dream of being a rock star, performing to crowds of thousands, with a huge record deal and massive hits around the globe. Fuck, how I’d supported him. Always. What a fucking idiot.
“How is the great musician?” Mum asks, as if on cue, and I can’t bring myself to tell them the truth.
I fake my best smile. “Out at a gig at the moment. Should be finished soon.”
“Is it a good one? Plenty of people there?”
“I hope so, yeah. Down in Camden.”
I’m not lying on that front. He is down at a gig in Camden. I still remember his schedule by heart – the ever-loving girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend now. He’ll be there, onstage with his guitar in his arms, singing about how hard life is when you really want to make it. So soulful. So fucking selfish.
I force the anger aside.
Dad’s grinning at me on camera. My heart pangs again, I feel so far away from them. Video is never the same as real life, no matter how many times we make calls. It’s got less and less in the three years since they’ve been gone, and I’ve grown used to it, kind of. Only now, without Connor, it feels so much harder.
I’d fly over there right this second if I could do, but there’s no chance of that. Prices of flights are sky high in November, and as we get closer towards Christmas they’ll only get worse. I push the hurt away as best I can.
Mum and Dad tell me about how they’ve been doing, and give me an update on their friends I’ve yet to meet, and I do the same, talking about my new friends at work and how everything is going. I play it upbeat, but the minutes tick by slowly in terrible torment, because I’m hoping, praying, they don’t suspect that anything is wrong. The last thing I want is them worrying about me. The slam of the breakup is all but over now, anyway. The initial weeks feel like they’ve taken a lifetime, but they are coming to an end.
The remainder of Connor’s belongings are in a crappy rucksack in the corner of my room. The shit he didn’t want anymore. Like me. Tacky mementos from back home and some old boxer shorts with holes in them. I doubt his groupie lover, Carly, would want to see him in them.