R. K. Lilley - Breaking Her Love is War 2 This has turned into yet another dedication to Mr. Lilley. Breaking Her Book Two in the Love is War Duet. This is .. Pan Przystojny - R. K. Lilley epub. In Flight - R. K. Lilley wyświetleń, stron. Breaking Her (Love is War Book 2) - Kindle edition by R.K. Lilley. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like. From internationally bestselling author R.K. Lilley comes a scorching new series with melt-the-pages tension and all-consuming angst. It's love, it's war and it's.
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Report. portal7.info KB. Breaking Her (Love is War # 2) - R. K. portal7.info KB. Like Show likes. 2. Share Show shared copies. Breaking Her (Love is War #2) - R. K. portal7.info KB. Breaking Him - R.K. portal7.info KB. Breathing Fire (Heretic Daughte - Lilley, Rebecca portal7.info Breaking Him by R.K. Lilley. by R.K. Lilley on June 9, But in her wildest dreams she never imagined she'd be broke and single at twenty-eight, doling.
Meeting and reuniting with the women that read my books and made my life awesome is as addictive as ever. Thank you, Ana! Nothing but love,. Issuu is a digital publishing platform that makes it simple to publish magazines, catalogs, newspapers, books, and more online. Easily share your publications and get them in front of Issuu's millions of monthly readers. Read Grounded online free from your Pc, Mobile. Anyone who has Up in the Air series by R.
Her eyes widened, watered a bit, and I saw that I'd taken the teasing too far. I can just remember. I did. I literally baked every time she came over, no exceptions. What the hell was up with that? If you couldn't lie to an eight-year-old, who could you lie to?
She beamed at me. I knew it. Damn Demi and her incorrigible, likable niece. She acted like I'd made her day with that, doing an enthusiastic happy dance that involved a lot of twirling and hand waving. Was she trying to win me over, or was she really this freaking adorable?
I didn't know, but in spite of myself, I was charmed.
Still, I'd never let her close, never let myself get attached to a kid like that. Even the thought of it spun my mind into dark, fathomless places that I knew well to steer clear of.
Luckily, they all left for a day at the zoo soon after that, and I was spared much more of Olivia's infectious charm. And dammit, she almost convinced me to come with them. If I had been about two shots more sober or three more drunk, she'd have had me. Nearly as bad, I packed them a cute little care package full of brownies like I was Betty fucking Crocker. Of course Anton gave me shit for it.
I couldn't blame him. I shut his teasing up with another shot. It was a sore spot, but in all fairness, lately every damn spot on me was sore. It was some time later that my phone rang.
I was at functioning, non-slurring levels, my day drink game strong. Anton was putting up a good fight, the only signs of how messed up he was, was that he was over- enunciating, and his comeback time was slowing from whip-fast to slightly below average.
I glanced at my lit phone face and grinned wickedly. It was bloodthirsty, so much so, Anton, even slowed Anton, caught on fast. He meant Dante. Of course. Since the funeral and the disaster that followed, he called often, and sometimes I'd answer. It was a toss-up with me whether I'd chew him out or just hang up. Sometimes he called to discuss what Gram had left me in her will, but I'd have none of it.
I don't want anything. I won't take anything. I'd been called a Durant charity case my whole life, but I'd be damned before I'd become one. Sometimes he just asked me how I was. Like he just wanted to talk, to check up on me.
As if he had that right. The bastard. Those calls ended nearly as quickly as the first kind. The worst shame of all this was the angry five minutes I spent getting myself off afterwards.
I wasn't sure if it was a comfort or a curse that I was absolutely sure the bastard was doing exactly the same. Sometimes he didn't even speak. Sometimes he just listened on the other end. This call started as one of those. Because tequila. Stop calling me. He sounded rough.
Rough as in terrible. I wasn't the only one drowning my sorrows with a bottle. But he was right. I was in a mood. And it didn't bode well for him. Mellow, even. There was a long pause on the other end, but he surprised me by finally answering, "You keep answering. If there's a chance you'll answer, I'll never stop calling. I'd stopped taking his calls years before our last disastrous reunion.
Why couldn't I seem to do that now? My self-destructive meter was running at full, and I hadn't found a way to bring it down since the funeral. Maybe a bit of revenge would help. One thing was for sure. It couldn't hurt. I didn't really need to, we'd plotted it out several times prior, but just to be safe, I mouthed at Anton, "You ready?
I held my hand toward him to let him know that he should wait. This is pointless. Stop wasting my time. I've moved the hell on. God, he was good. He sounded sleepy, horny, just fucked, and ready to fuck again.
The man deserved an Oscar for that one little sentence. On the other end Dante made a noise, something indecipherable but unmistakably, unpleasantly, unbearably filled with pain.
I think I had the phone to my ear, staring into nothing for at least five minutes after he hung up. I wasn't sure what I was feeling.
Which was the problem. That little stunt had been designed to torment him, but, above all, to improve my mood. Why had it done the opposite? Why did hurting him always hurt me? I stared at him. Sleep together? What would be the harm? We're so much alike, it might actually turn into something, and if it did, it might be something good. And if not, no harm, no foul. We'd stay friends and forget about it, end of story.
I decided to let him have the full, brutal truth of it, the fatal flaw in his harmless plan. Someone I hate. And then, in the morning, you'd be hopelessly in love with me, and it'd get weird, because I fucking hate it when guys fall in love with me, and then I wouldn't enjoy hanging out with you anymore. How sad would that be for both of us? And the worst thing that ever happened to me.
You can't even get off without him getting in the way? I can't even eat a fucking apple because of him. And I just have a memory of eating one fresh off the tree, sharing it with him actually, and thinking it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. So when it ended between us, horribly, I could never.
He poured us another shot. Since I could remember her flashing eyes and stubborn face were dear to me.
Even before she'd decided we were friends, before our first fateful bonding moment outside of the vice principal's office when she first realized I was in her corner, I'd admired her. Admired that she never backed down. Admired that, with the way she was treated by nearly everyone around her, she never bent, not one iota, let alone came near to breaking. Her strength galvanized me, made me see the world in a different way. I had it so easy. My mother was awful, my father dismal, but my life was pampered and I could escape any time I wanted, which was often, and visit my gram, who lived a short walk away and made up for both of my pieces of shit parents and then some.
I had an anger problem and a bad attitude. But it was Scarlett who inspired me to give those things purpose. The first time I tried to help, she didn't even notice me.
We were in the cafeteria at school. I was in line to get lunch, stealing glances at her. She was by herself. She always was. She was less interested in talking to other kids than any kid I'd ever seen besides myself. Once, I'd even taken a seat across from her to eat, and she'd still barely said two words to me. Her thick brown hair was endearingly messy.
She had the perfect face of a doll, but it was always set into hard lines, an incongruous, arresting look but one that I couldn't stop looking at. And I looked a lot. I enjoyed watching her. She wasn't like anybody else, didn't react to things in the same way.
I got a kick out of expecting the unexpected from her. Every inch of her tiny frame read: This girl is tough and she does not plan to deal with your shit. Do not mess with her. So why was everyone always messing with her? They loved to tease her about the trashcan stuff, and I thought that was about the most messed up thing ever. It set my teeth on edge.
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