Definitely Not Him (Single at Thirty #1) Read Online Whitney G

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Single at Thirty Series by Whitney G
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
<<<<1018192021223040>61
Advertisement2


Here we go with this picture bullshit. I rolled my eyes, remembering his initial arrogance from my birthday all over again.

“Look. I was actually calling because—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He interrupted. “Hang up now, tell whoever you’re with that they need to get a life, and don’t you dare ever—”

“Cheerio, you fucking wanker!” I hung up in his face.

Kristin sighed. “Well, that was…something.”

“He honestly believes that he’s so damn attractive that every woman on this planet wants a picture of him.” I bit into the bagel. “I think my days of fantasizing about him are officially over.”

“Happy to hear that.” She smiled. “At some point this weekend, I need you to give me a few recommendations before my next episode. I have a guest who wants to read the filthiest romance books that were released this year, and—”

“He hummed while his tongue was on my clit.” The words tumbled out of my mouth as cream cheese hit my lips. “It’s like he was talking directly to my pussy as he was going down on me. Did I ever tell you that part?”

“Jesus Christ, Chloe…”

A Little Late

Chloe

Seattle, Washington

Later that night, I redialed William’s number, ready to come clean.

I also wanted to give my fingers a well-deserved break.

Hesitating, I waited a few moments before hitting call.

It didn’t ring at all.

“This number is officially out of service,” a robotic voice droned in my ear. “Please check the number and dial again.”

Confused, I double-checked it, but before redialing once more, a new wave of nausea sent me running to the toilet.

This time, it didn’t let up for hours.

My Life, Your Entertainment

Tyler

London, England

Royally Ungrateful: Prince Carrington II Didn’t Smile Once at His Lavish Birthday Party, Disappoints Partygoers

—Daily Mail

Prince Carrington Overheard Saying He’s Unhappy: How Hard is it to Be Rich?

—The Sun

A Royal Drag: Will the Prince Ever Propose to Princess Victoria? Doctor Claims He May Be Impotent

—Daily Mirror

Why Princess Joanna Would Be Ashamed of Her Eldest Son if She Were Alive Today

—The Guardian

It was official.

My days of plotting and planning, waiting for the perfect moment to leave, were over.

It was now or never.

I’m done with this life once and for all.

One Week Later

Late Night Assistance

Chloe

Seattle, Washington

3 a.m.

“Oh Goddddd. Pleaseeee!” I groaned in utter agony. “I don’t want to go out like this right now. I haven’t gotten a real job or seen Taylor Swift in concert yet. You have to let me do those things… ”

I was starting to believe that I was destined to die at age thirty, here on my bathroom floor.

My skin felt as if someone had set it afire, and I couldn’t stop vomiting for more than an hour at a time.

All the migraines I’d previously experienced were no match for the synapse symphony that was currently playing in my brain.

Using what was left of my strength, I gripped the edge of the tub and stood to my feet.

I walked into my bedroom and picked up my cell phone, calling Madison.

“You’ve reached me!” Her voicemail played within seconds. “My phone is probably dead because I’m working overtime or I’m avoiding my BFF and she knows exactly why. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you! Unless this is Chloe. In that case, hang up.”

I called Kristin next.

It rang once, then twice, but it served me the same result.

“Thanks for your call!” she said. “I’m not available at this time, so leave a message at the beep!”

I dialed 9-1-1, but then I calculated the cost of an ambulance ride.

Uber it is…

Ordering one for the emergency room, I put on a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs.

The driver eyed me suspiciously as I lay across the backseat.

“No, no, and hell no,” he said. “I don’t transport drunk people.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m dying.”

“Right.” He cursed under his breath and sped onto the street.

Racing through red lights and avoiding every stop sign in sight, he didn’t give me a chance to get comfortable.

We arrived at the doors of the emergency room in five minutes flat.

“Oh, wow.” A security guard opened my door. “What the hell happened to her?”

“She’s drunk.” The driver groaned. “Please get her out of my car.”

I was too faint to argue.

The guard placed me in a wheelchair and pushed me into a bright white room. At some point, a nurse helped me redress in a paper blue gown.

Another nurse drew my blood and helped me pee in a plastic cup.

“Drink this, Miss March.” A doctor handed me a mini water bottle when she entered the room. “Tell me something. Besides nausea and a fever, what other symptoms are you experiencing lately?”

“Headaches and I have to pee a lot more than usual.”

“Is this a heavy pee or a light pee?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not really looking at it.”

“You should save it in a jar sometime just to see,” she said. “Urine is pretty fascinating. It’s a good aphrodisiac, too.”


Advertisement3

<<<<1018192021223040>61

Advertisement4