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Train Wreck

T Gepharterschienen am01.07.2017
'No passion, no emotion, no originality-a train wreck of epic portions.'
Those were the words to describe Eve Thorton's exhibition. Not even a fine arts degree from Yale or her daddy's bank account could save her from the scathing reviews. And failure was a word Eve would never be comfortable with. Not even close.
Plotting the demise of every critic who'd written her off was her first instinct. But that would come later. Instead, she would show them that she wasn't a bored socialite with more money than talent.
She would prove everyone wrong, and she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. But when her journey for redemption crashed headfirst into Josh Logan, the sexy, talented tattooist from Queens, getting her hands dirty took on a whole new meaning.
Josh was everything Eve wasn't, translating on skin what she couldn't onto her canvas. All she had to do was convince him to share his jaw-dropping brilliance, and help her-seeing him naked-a bonus. Then she could go back to her regular life, vindicated.
It should have been easy. Pity her plans had a habit of derailing.mehr

Produkt

Klappentext'No passion, no emotion, no originality-a train wreck of epic portions.'
Those were the words to describe Eve Thorton's exhibition. Not even a fine arts degree from Yale or her daddy's bank account could save her from the scathing reviews. And failure was a word Eve would never be comfortable with. Not even close.
Plotting the demise of every critic who'd written her off was her first instinct. But that would come later. Instead, she would show them that she wasn't a bored socialite with more money than talent.
She would prove everyone wrong, and she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. But when her journey for redemption crashed headfirst into Josh Logan, the sexy, talented tattooist from Queens, getting her hands dirty took on a whole new meaning.
Josh was everything Eve wasn't, translating on skin what she couldn't onto her canvas. All she had to do was convince him to share his jaw-dropping brilliance, and help her-seeing him naked-a bonus. Then she could go back to her regular life, vindicated.
It should have been easy. Pity her plans had a habit of derailing.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9780994475992
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Verlag
Erscheinungsjahr2017
Erscheinungsdatum01.07.2017
Seiten312 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse2182
Artikel-Nr.12612690
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe


Eve

YOU ARE A LYING PIECE OF SHIT!

I tossed my Chanel handbag at him even though I knew it wouldn t do any real damage. You needed a good-sized LV for that. And I really wished I had more vases or decorative stuff lying around, it would have made it easier to hurt him.

Eve, baby. It s not what it looks like. I don t even know her. He held his hands up defensively trying to pretend that the woman he barely knew wasn t just giving him a blowjob in my apartment. It was an accident, I swear.

Oh. My. God.

He did not just say that to me.

I was seething. So tied up in rage that in that moment I totally got the rationalization for murder. Ten years behind bars didn t seem so bad.

An accident! I pulled off one of my Louboutins and aimed for his head. The heel could be deadly even if it was just a shoe.

Sadly it missed.

Your penis just accidently fell into her mouth? Come on, you went to Harvard, don t embarrass yourself by acting stupid.

The other shoe went sailing, and like its predecessor was also off the mark. Damn it. I really needed better aim.

Of course, while Oliver was playing dodge ball with my wardrobe, his little friend looked on with wide-eyed terror, frozen on her knees, silent.

You know him? My eyes scanned the room for something else to hurl at Oliver.

The blonde nodded, slowly her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally found her voice. We work together. I-I didn t know-

And that was as far as she got.

Look, I m assuming the asshat didn t tell you he had a girlfriend or that he actually lives in my apartment. And judging by her shock, she was either a stellar actress or had likewise been deceived. And trust me when I tell you this, but I did you a favor. He only lasts about five minutes when it actually counts. I ve had to finish myself off more times than not, if you know what I mean.

I was lying of course. Oliver was great in bed and sex with him was better than average if I was really honest. But I wasn t about to give him that kind of credit. And while I hated he had cheated on me, there was no point being angry at Little Miss Fellatio, it wasn t her I was in a relationship with.

Baby. Evie, Oliver started, his pants still unzipped. It was a moment of weakness.

To be fair, I didn t care if it was the first time or he d been seeing her for six months.

He had cheated.

He, the man I thought cared about me, who I d come home to on what had been one of the worst days of my life, had betrayed me. And as horrible as it was to admit, that was what I was really mad about. That I had needed him, hoped to come home and find some refuge, and it was taken away.

Because he cheated.

Get out, Oliver, I screamed, no longer willing to have to look at him and the reminder of his infidelity. We re done.

There wasn t a doubt in my mind that we were over. No room for second chances. And if I was honest with myself it was because, as much as I enjoyed Oliver s company and loved the orgasms he provided me, I didn t love him.

No. We were glorified friends with benefits, convenient fuck buddies and someone to take whenever a plus one was required.

But I didn t love him.

Not like I thought I should.

Which is why instead of being devastated the relationship was over, I was more pissed off that my pride had taken another battering.

Damn it.

Couldn t he have kept his dick in his pants for one more freaking day?

Evie. Buttercup. He looked to me and then to the woman whose knees were still planted on my Aubusson rug. Kitty?

Kitty? Her name was Kitty? Great how very appropriate.

So much for not knowing her.

The petite blonde shook her head, doing her best to remain as still as possible. Oliver, it seemed, was shit out of luck with both his women.

Get out, Oliver. Now, before I call the police.

He looked like he wanted to argue-to reason-say something to persuade me, but he didn t. Slowly, backing away from us, he zipped up and made his way to my front door.

He hesitated at the door, grabbing his keys from the crystal bowl that sat on the bureau in the entranceway. Damn, now I remembered the crystal bowl. It would have been perfect to throw earlier.

I ll call you tomorrow, he coughed out uncomfortably.

I wasn t sure if that was directed at me or to Kitty.

Don t bother. I waved after him. I ll have your things boxed up and delivered, expect the bill. If I didn t burn them first.

He didn t speak as the door closed behind him, no doubt hoping a good night s sleep would let me cool off. Because he was delusional like that. And had he been less of a jerk face and a better boyfriend-the cheating in my apartment aside-he would have known that one night s sleep wasn t going to cut it. No, I could sleep for an entire year and it wouldn t make a difference.

Kitty coughed awkwardly, either to clear her throat or alert me she was still there.

And then there were two.

While Oliver had vacated my apartment, Kitty-the blower-had been sort of trapped. Probably wondering if her sudden movements might redirect my anger-or projectiles-to her. She d abandoned any association to the douche canoe that was my former boyfriend and so remained. And he had left without a second thought about her safety.

He really was a gutless piece of shit.

There was no protocol for this, well none that I knew of. It had been a while since I consulted Emily Post, but was pretty sure she didn t have any handy hints that would cover it. Guess I was on my own.

So, Kitty, you feel like a drink? I sure as hell could use one. My bare feet padded to my kitchen.

Wine. This would definitely be easier with wine.

Ah. Um, she stammered, slowly rising to her feet. I-I should go.

Unlike Oliver-who while having his cock out had been mostly dressed-Kitty had been wearing all her clothes. Perhaps their interlude had been destined to be one-sided, or maybe they hadn t gotten to the good part yet. But it helped that neither had to perform an undignified redressing with an audience; I was especially glad to be spared the visual.

Okay, do you need me to call you a cab? I pulled my head out of the refrigerator long enough to answer. Or did you drive?

I stopped for a minute, processing that I was genuinely concerned about how she got home, which I guess was sort of weird. I was acting weird. This whole scenario was really freaking weird.

This must be what shock feels like.

Or maybe I had truly lost my mind.

I probably was only remaining upright because of anger. Adrenaline was a powerful thing. Sometimes it gave you super strength, the ability to lift a car or something like that. Or obviously in my case, the ability to have a rational conversation with the girl my boyfriend was cheating with. At least I was still functional even if I had no idea what the hell I was even looking for any more.

Oh, that s right.

Wine.

I pulled out a chilled bottle of Riesling and wondered if I should even bother with the glass. There was no point denying I was going to be finishing it.

Why are you being so nice to me? She approached slowly, her careful green eyes floating between me and her exit route, and probably wondering whether I was clinically insane.

I didn t blame her.

I wondered too.

Because today my world came crashing down and the worst of it wasn t finding the two of you. The desire for wine discarded as I placed the bottle on the counter and I sunk to my butt on the floor.

God, I didn t want to do this with an audience.

I had been strong the whole time.

All morning I had kept my shit together. The smile on my face fixed in place as people at the gallery looked at me with pitiful glances. Didn t even crack when I heard their discreet hushed conversations. Then there were the calls from my parents and my friends. But there were only so many I m fines I could stomach before I felt compelled to pull a Van Gogh and slice off someone s ear. And clearly I wasn t a dedicated enough artist for it to be mine.

So imagine my surprise when I came home at lunchtime hoping to get naked, drunk, and call my boyfriend for angry-not at him, but that soon changed-sex and found him already home.

With his dick in someone else s mouth.

Damn him! This was supposed to be my day to have a breakdown, to plot my revenge for all those uptight assholes, and now I had to plot against him too. It was very inconvenient. Very selfish of him.

Crap. I wasn t even sure if I wanted to cry, vomit, or slice those Salvatore Ferragamo loafers he liked so much. That was the second time I d mentioned cutting so I should probably hide the knives.

Go home, Kitty. I need to be alone.

Or at least take away the possibility of a victim. A living one. I didn t hold out much hope for Oliver s fancy suits.

I m really sorry, I honestly didn t know. She mumbled apologies as she joined me on the floor. I thought he was single. He didn t tell me about you.

The situation was ridiculous.

There I was sitting on the floor of my kitchen. My refrigerator obnoxiously beeping, warning me the door was still open. With the woman my...
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