Josh Carter, a beguiling wealthy person known for his costly occasions and laid-back manner, is at crossroads. At the point when his dad dies suddenly, he is given a horrendous predicament framed in his dad's will: wed to acquire the Carter family riches, or watch everything deteriorate away. The Carter realm's past weighs intensely on Josh's shoulders, yet the idea of surrendering his unique lone fierce way of life feels like detainment. Josh makes a dangerous arrangement to get away from this unexpected circumstance. He moves toward Amy Wesley, the contemplative and bashful proprietor of a little bookstore in the downtown area, with a fascinating proposition: a contract marriage. Amy, who is lowered under water and fantasies about reestablishing her valued yet monetary striving bookstore, takes Josh's deal. They start their contract marriage, what starts as a ploy changes into considerably more. Josh's unbending facade starts to break, finding scars from a difficult past he's for quite some time tried to neglect. Amy, with secret stores of force, shrewdly directs Josh through the complexities of their bogus marriage. Their lives become weaved surprisingly, and the limits between what's valid and what's only for show get obscured. Amy finds a secret note tending to her, covered in the dusty profundities of the bookstore, similarly as they have faith in the possibility of certifiable love. The note implies a labrynth of foul play and covered thought processes that causes some qualms about Josh's real goals. Amy starts on an excursion to find the purpose for Josh's inspirations, driven by encoded hints from the note, and the plot takes an unexpected bearing. The novel closes with a strained excursion through the city's complex roads, leaving Amy's life in risk, and a dark message implying towards a perilous plot squeezing to swallow them both.
View MoreELIZABETH "Spencer!" I screamed as I saw my son quickly getting off another man on my barging in. They were on the bed together trying to cover up themselves alarmingly with the white duvet. "Fuck" the other young man came. "Mother! Wh-Wha-What are you doing here?!" Spencer asked all sweaty, with wide eyes. "What the hell are you asking me that for huh? Aren't I welcomed in my son's house anymore?" I asked offended, as I noticed him swiftly pick up his briefs from the floor at the side and wore them under the duvet. The other young man followed as well. "You should have called first, you can't keep barging in on me whenever you want" he complained, his voice showing that he was offended though trying his best not to react too hardly as he got out of the bed, revealing his defined body. I quirked the corner of my lips in annoyance and my eyes suddenly caught his partner, slowly and quietly getting off the bed as if not to catch our attention. He was now picking up his clothes.
AMY"Marry me" Mr. Billionaire suddenly came with the most captivating smile I'd ever seen in my life. But it wasn't that which got me dumbfounded but his ridiculous request of which now that I thought about it, sounded more like a command. "What?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but I'm dead serious Amy" he came and boy did I like the way my name sounded in his heavenly deep and refined voice. Oh God, what was happening to me? I didn't like this at all. I couldn't possibly be drooling over this bigheaded bastard, focus Amy."Bu-But I-I can't just marry you, it doesn't work like that. You've got to at least know someone for a while first to want to marry them. And asides that, it being you, I dunno if I can go into such with you.""Why? Because a lowly girl such as yourself just can't fathom the possibility of getting married to a billionaire demigod such as myself?" Mr. Billionaire asked rather proudly with a chuckle at the end and I rolled my eyes at his spiked ego. "No, because I
JOSH "Wow, that's a really good picture of me" I said, admiring the picture of my sexy self on a magazine cover I'd spotted a lady holding in a store at the side of the road. That was when a silly idea came to mind. I thought of the reaction I'd get if those ladies in that store happened to see me walk in and the possibility of them screaming or fainting played out in my head. I chuckled at that and decided to park properly before stepping out of my car. I crossed the street, walking over to the store. "Reading Culture, must be a bookstore or something" I said to myself on reading the delineation on the glass. I was sure Spencer's books were in there, a reason why I hated books even more. I finally got to the store and got in with the bell attached to the glass door jingling, signifying that someone had entered. "Welcome to Reading Culture and what would you like to..." came the lady at the counter but she paused on seeing me, her eyes widening and her expression showing that she
AMY "What's with the weather today? Why so hot?" My friend, Wilma whined as we were both sweating and fanning ourselves with two of the numerous paperbacks in my store. "You really need to get the air conditioning working or at least get the fans in here fixed." "Yeah well thanks a lot Wilma for reminding me that I cannot afford something as simple as the repairs of the rickety old fans in here. Do you know how much the repairs of this entire place costs? Freaking eight thousand dollars and I haven't even made up to five hundred dollars ever since I opened up this dang bookstore" I came, my voice high in frustration, trying to fight back the tears welling up in my eyes already. Wilma kept a concerned expression, "Sorry love, but that's what happens when you decide to get a totally run-down space for your business." "That's because it was all I could afford and I didn't think the repairs would actually cost more than the rent." I groaned and dropped my head on the counter,
JOSH I was standing at the classily designed terrace of my penthouse, in my favorite designer robe, sipping on a glass of one of the most expensive wines in my collection and to have ever been produced, the 1992 Screaming Eagle Carbernet. Once that rich and velvety texture with notes of dark berries hit my tongue, I couldn't help but get mesmerized by the taste. I looked up at the bright morning sky, of which the sun basked me in its heat and its rays illuminated my skin gloriously. I also had a great view of the lively and splendorous New York. I looked down at the boisterous happenings below me. Vehicles zooming off, vendors out and proclaiming their products to prospective buyers, and officially dressed folks marching off to their places of work, hoping to arrive on time. I smiled at the state of the average man, whereas people like us couldn't be caught dead involving in the eager hustle and bustle of the intermediate class or the working class. "Ah, te voilà" (Oh, there yo
JOSH I was standing at the classily designed terrace of my penthouse, in my favorite designer robe, sipping on a glass of one of the most expensive wines in my collection and to have ever been produced, the 1992 Screaming Eagle Carbernet. Once that rich and velvety texture with notes of dark berries hit my tongue, I couldn't help but get mesmerized by the taste. I looked up at the bright morning sky, of which the sun basked me in its heat and its rays illuminated my skin gloriously. I also had a great view of the lively and splendorous New York. I looked down at the boisterous happenings below me. Vehicles zooming off, vendors out and proclaiming their products to prospective buyers, and officially dressed folks marching off to their places of work, hoping to arrive on time. I smiled at the state of the average man, whereas people like us couldn't be caught dead involving in the eager hustle and bustle of the intermediate class or the working class. "Ah, te voilà" (Oh, there yo
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