Fighting the Pull (River Rain #5) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: River Rain Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
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I let that sink in while he guided the Jeep into traffic.

Then I told him, “Turn left, two blocks up.”

“Gotcha,” he murmured.

“I’m not sure how it happened,” I carried on, “considering my dad makes Bernie Sanders look conservative, but somewhere along the line, my mother adopted a traditional values approach to everything. I think it’s because we’re all moved out, and she spent a lot of time convincing Oskar he could do no wrong, Emilie she was the belle of every ball, and now she’s dedicated to getting us all to settle down and give her grandchildren so she can instill unhealthy expectations into them. Be aware, Mom and Dad don’t get along. This will come in a consummate passive-aggressive form of verbal and nonverbal disapproval of everything he does, and him ignoring it and pretending everything is just fine.”

“Right,” he said. Then noted, “So you’re the middle child.”

“If you’re suggesting I suffer from the syndrome, you’d be absolutely correct. I learned to be independent early. I consider my friends my family, and my family are acquaintances to whom I’m socially bound to maintain an attachment, but I do my best to keep a distance. I was absolutely overshadowed by Oskar and neglected for Emilie. I’m definitely the outcast. This doesn’t include my dad, who I think feels a camaraderie with me, because he doesn’t fit in either.”

“At least you have an ally,” he murmured.

“Yes,” I agreed. “The middle child thing also gives you insight into my chosen career. I’m aware I was starved for attention growing up, so in front of the camera is where I always wanted to be.”

“Doing celebrity news?”

I shook my head even if he was watching the road. “I studied journalism at Syracuse. Internships while I was at school drove me to find my own groove.”

“Not into paying dues by fetching coffee?” he teased.

“Not into getting hit on by on-air talent. The weatherman where I worked was not a good guy.”

Hale had no response to that, but the atmosphere in the Jeep took a dive.

“They’re not all like that,” I assured him. “Not even close. And my decision was based on more. The Internet and social media have changed the game. Print is dying. People are moving from networks to streaming services. It’s had a negative effect on reporting. News agencies are no longer about informing the public in an objective manner. They’re about chasing viewers, and viewers want to be entertained. And many viewers these days want to hear only what they want to hear, and not have their beliefs and values questioned by hearing impartial facts, but instead, they want to be validated. I wanted to inform people, but in order for them to want to watch me, I was aware I needed to find some way to entertain them. What I do isn’t exactly a happy medium, but it isn’t pandering either. I’m open about what I do and the purpose of my show.” I pointed at the windshield. “You need to turn right at the next block.”

“Do you wish you were reporting the actual news?” he asked.

“At first, it felt skeevy, what I did,” I admitted. “I felt like I was only twenty-two, and I was already a sellout. Then another characteristic of being a middle child reared its head. I’m not ridiculously competitive, but it’s there. I wanted to do it better than the others. I wanted to spin it a different way. I got into it and realized I liked it, and I could make it not skeevy. It isn’t me with a bustling newsroom all around me, dedicated to digging up dirt on people. It isn’t me hiding behind a keyboard talking trash. I’m front and center, dishing about famous people, and I don’t pretend it’s anything else. You’re going to take another left at the next light.”

Hale drove, then he took that left, but through this, he didn’t say anything.

“You don’t approve of what I do,” I remarked.

“I lived my whole life with people like you talking about my dad, and Genny and Tom, and even me. It comes with the territory with what Genny and Tom wanted for their lives. I understood why people found my father fascinating. But, until recently, not me.”

“I don’t report on children,” I assured him. “Even ones put forward by their parents, like Kris did with her younger girls before they were really old enough to be exposed to the public like that. There’s plenty to say without adding that to the mix.”

“There aren’t many like you who have those kinds of hard limits.”

“I know,” I murmured. “Turn right up there and then park anywhere there’s a spot,” I instructed. “Mom and Dad live on that block.”

We had to park a block up from their house, but even when Hale expertly backed into the space, he didn’t turn off the Jeep or climb out.


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