Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Tempting Bad |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | M. Robinson |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
VIP spin-off can be read as a standalone. Brooke I’ve come from a privileged life and an even more privileged upbringing. My parents taught me right from wrong and everything in between… except I wanted the gray area. I wanted to live life on the edge with the possibility of falling over. I didn’t care about the consequences because I had no heart… I left that on the floor of my parents’ bedroom door, shattered. And never went back to pick up the pieces. Devon Family first. I learned the meaning of the word hate. I learned that life is a battlefield and I stood frontline. I learned that praying doesn’t work and God doesn’t listen. And I learned how to be a man… All at the receiving end of my father’s fists, my mother’s tears, and my sisters screams. You can’t run away from your past… It will always find you, especially when you’re asleep. Warning: Book contains adult situations. Sex/language. Mature readers only. | |
| Books by Author: | M. Robinson |
PROLOGUE
<>B<>
Love…
Amor…
Liebe…
Meile…
Lyubof…
Amore…
Milosc…
Leiba…
Dragoste…
L’amour…
The meaning of the word is constant and consistent in every language. To have intense feelings of deep affection for a person or thing that one loves.
I love you…
Te amo…
Te iubesc…
Ik hou van jou…
Je t'aime…
S'agapo…
Aloha au ia 'oe…
Ich liebe dich…
T'estimo…
Jag alskar dig…
Three words, a phrase, a sentence, an expression that means someone is your everything, your one and only. You could say it to a parent, a friend, a sibling, a relative. The meaning is identical, nothing changes; everything stays the same.
BUT…
When you say it to a lover, a boyfriend, a husband, a wife…
EVERYTHING changes.
I grew up in a home where the phrase was thrown around like it meant nothing because actions always spoke louder than words.
Always.
I had an amazing upbringing; a wealthy family. High class. My parents were members of a country club and we went to church every Sunday. They purchased new cars every year, my siblings and I went to private school, and my dad was home every night to tuck us in bed and read us a bedtime story. My parents never argued and they showed us love each and every day.
They kissed, told each other “I love you” all the time. Went on date nights and always made time for one another.
My family was always perfect.
Except, we weren’t the only family…
My dad had three families.
Ours.
His mistress’.
And…
VIP.
<>D<>
Everyone has a story to tell, and even though every story starts with “Once Upon A Time,” it’s the beginning, middle, and ending that make every story different. There are some stories that leave you sad, some make you laugh, and others hold the ability to make you cry. You take the good with the bad and try to move forward.
A lesson is learned.
We all have a past, present, and future.
However, there are things you will never be able to run away from. As much as you want to, as much as you try, it will always be there.
You can’t outrun it.
It will always find you. It will haunt your dreams—night or day, awake or asleep.
You can’t run away from your thoughts.
You can’t hide from your mind.
You can’t escape the memories.
Sometimes, you have to step out of the darkness to see the light. But what if the light is so bright that it blinds you…
Burns your retinas until all you see is black…
All that’s left to do is close your eyes and pray that you don’t crash.
People have said to write about things that you know, things you’ve seen or experienced. That’s what makes a good writer… to have had first-hand knowledge of the feelings, you’re trying to portray and be able to relay it on paper. Pull emotions with your words and make people feel. Everyone wants a good story, something that will pull them in and take them away from their life and mundane routine. To be able to live the life of another person, and experience their journey through the black ink that’s printed on perfectly white paper.
Someone’s beginning and ending.
But what if all you knew were the things people wanted you to know? Never the dark parts that they didn’t want to talk about. The things people tried not to think about. Questions that people didn’t ask about because the answers were too terrifying, too real.
Would you still yearn to escape to that life?
Did sadness create darkness?
Is there ever a light at the end of the tunnel?
Feelings are a fickle thing; they soley rely on situations and impulse. We are all conditioned to know the difference between right and wrong.
Notice that I didn’t say we’re programmed that way. You are the product of your environment, you reap what you sow, and then you beg for forgiveness. On your knees, with your hands clasped, praying to the Lord above to take away your sins.
What if hell was on earth?
It’s not that far-fetched of a thought given what we watch on the news or read in the papers. Bad things happened to good people every day.
Every fucking day.
You choose.
You always have a choice, but it’s much easier to blame someone else.
It’s human.
CHAPTER ONE
<>D<>
“You stupid fucking cunt! Did I tell you to move? Did I give you permission to walk away from me? Huh?” My dad roared in the tone I heard too often.
“You’re nothing without me, Jasmine, NOTHING! You’re lucky I even have you around, you stupid bitch. Where are my kids?”
I hugged my sisters harder. “Cover your ears,” I said, placing my hands over my own. “Like I showed you.”
They scarcely smiled.
“Rick, please calm down,” my mom whimpered.
I knew he wouldn’t grant her any leniency; he never did.
Fucker.
“Fuck you! Where are my kids?”
“Honey—”
I heard his fist connect with something, and then a thud, which I assumed was her body falling to the ground.
“Get the fuck up! I’m not done with you!”
She groaned in agony.
“Hey…” I whispered, half-smiling to my baby sisters. Liv was six and Alexis was nine. Lauren was twelve, but she wasn’t home. She was still at her friend’s house, studying; I needed to leave soon to pick her up.