Author of romance and smut. Also an amateur foodie.
Just Because of You — Chapter 1
Welcome to the Edith Wharton Academy for Young Adults Hilarie took one, then two deep breaths as she looked up at the tall iron gate. She gritted her teeth at the ivy covering the iron rods when the breaths did nothing to slow down her racing pulse. Chill out. You’re just going to school, she thought. But she looked longingly behind her at the church and McDonald’s across the street, tempted to run into one of the buildings. She wasn’t a religious person by any means, but confessing her sins to a judgmental priest sounded more appealing than being among her peers. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Daily, I fantasize about killing my worthless ex. Usually with a machete, always in excessively painful detail. And she could always go for a Big Mac.
Buffets Are Better with a Friend
The first few times I went out to eat at a restaurant by myself, I felt embarrassed when the host or hostess would ask, “Table for one?” because I would have to mumble, “Yes.” When I was a kid, it was cool and exciting for me to do things alone because it showed that I was *growing up*. But when I became an actual grown-up, I found it neither cool nor exciting to do things alone because the insecure little voice in my head thought people would look at me in pity and think, Look at this chubby sad girl eating a meal and two appetizers by herself. What a pathetic loser.
Claiming His Runaway Bride - Part 1
Alex Zhang’s little sister Susie nervously cleared her throat, running her shaking fingers through her short black bob. “Um, don’t freak out,” she said.
Office Hours - Part 1
Mara bit her lip, staring at the essay in front of her. A big fat red F marked the white paper, along with the ominous note, See me after class. She had known plagiarizing the essay she had found online was a bad, bad idea. Had that stopped her from plagiarizing it? Of course not. But she'd been desperate. She could barely understand a word of Foucault’s needlessly complex prose, and taking care of her wasted mama had not left her much time to write 2,000 words on The History of Sexuality. Nevertheless, she should have known better. Plagiarism was grounds for expulsion; George Eliot College had little tolerance for academic dishonesty.
A Night with the K-Pop Boy Band - Part 3 - The End
She almost choked when they pulled up in front of a Ritz-Carlton. She stared at the sleek hotel as Dong-gun took her hand and drew her out of the car. Never had she ever thought that she would step foot inside a Ritz-Carlton, let alone go inside one with her favorite boy band of all time. She gawked at the huge fountain and sparkling chandelier in the lobby as they walked toward the elevators. The nicest hotel that she’d ever stayed at had been the Holiday Inn, so she was wholly unprepared for the luxury that surrounded her.
A Night with the K-Pop Boy Band - Part 2
Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD, Simone thought as he dragged her to an inconspicuous gray Toyota Camry in the parking lot, his hand never leaving her mouth. The smart part of her was screaming, Why are you letting this guy drag you to a random car? Yes, he’s an incredibly hot K-pop star, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to manhandle you! Scream, bite, kick, do something! The other part was screaming, Dong-gun is touching me! OMFG, my bias is touching me and I can hear his heartbeat! This part of her internally screamed some more when the rest of Paradise 4 got into the car with them. Five, the maknae who had just turned 18. He looked like a Korean Ken doll with his blond hair, big brown eyes, and blindingly white smile. PL, the rapper with dark brown locks that matched his smoldering eyes. And Sean, the half-Korean and half-French leader/lead-vocalist with black hair and blue eyes. It was so much attractiveness in one confined space — she was worried she was going to get a nosebleed for real.
A Night with the K-Pop Boy Band - Part 1
When the lights came back on in the stadium, Simone Han had tears running down her face. After three years of obsessively following Paradise 4’s every move on social media and memorizing the lyrics to every one of their songs, she had finally seen her favorite boy band in concert. It’d taken weeks of working God-knows-how-many extra shifts at Target and eating nothing but instant ramen and canned ravioli, but she’d managed to save up 430 dollars (K-pop labels charged exorbitant prices for their concert tickets).
Starbucks Ain’t Got Muffin on This Café
Sometimes — okay, pretty often — I wonder what the hell happened to my brain. I used to be able to devour 700-page novels within two days and go for days without caffeine. Now it takes me over a week to read 100 pages of a book. And if noon has passed and I haven’t had coffee or Mountain Dew (#NotASponsor #ButMyPoorAssIsNotOpposedToASponsorship #JustKidding #ButKindOfNotKidding #CallMePepsi #YouKnowYouWantToDewIt), my sluggish body screams for the sweet, sweet drug that is caffeine. When I want to procrastinate on writing (which is admittedly way too often), I take a coffee break, which then becomes my social media time, which then results in me wasting several hours of my life watching YouTube videos of dudes eating ungodly amounts of food, which then results in me looking at the clock and thinking, Holy shit, it’s almost midnight. What have I done? (The answer — almost nothing productive)