#hope u enjoy my silly magazine cover

[vesperosy]

defence attorneys HATE HER! local woman uses one simple trick to avoid being a murder suspect

art of dee vasquez i did for the fame, music, and magic zine. it was a lot of fun!

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 2

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: IM SO EXCITED FOR THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE WHO ARE ENJOYING THIS SERIES🤭🤭 i hope you don’t mind that I tagged those of you who commented on the first part because i don’t want u gremlins (*said lovingly*) to miss out on this next part AHHHH (might change this in the future idk but this is the only thing i can think of rn) I CANT WAIT FOR U GUYS TO READ ABOUT THESE TWO CAUSE MY ROOMMATE AND I HAD SO MANY GREAT IDEAS HEHEHE <3 as always comment ur thoughts if ur comfortable, reblog, and like if ur enjoying the series \(*~*)/

Tag List: (Sorry for the tag) @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy

part 3 for you beautiful people 🤭 hehehe but here’s the link for pt. 1

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers

Word Count: 4.1k

“Jason, we haven’t gotten anything done for this interview that your management team wants. I need something to write about.” You nagged at Jason from the inside of your red go-kart.

From afar, Jason tries to drift his blue go-kart, his form too big for the small car. Large hands covering majority of the small steering wheel, he laughs as he passes you, your hair flying into your eyes from the sudden wind.

How is he even going that fast? You question to yourself.

Jason’s laughing like a child as he starts his next lap, you watch from the side of the track as he gets closer to you, his classic smirk on his face, the one you’ve seen on the cover of major magazines.

It was like watching his persona shift, seeing how comfortable he was. Enjoying himself, having fun. A lighthearted kid in your eyes.

Once he rounded the last corner of the track, he locked onto you, gripping the steering wheel, jerking it to one side to skid to a stop right next to you.

“Race me. If you win, I’ll answer five of your questions, guarantee it.” He beams at you, competitiveness masking his entire face. There was a lit fire in his eyes.

“If I lose?” You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Come on, have some confidence!” Jason smiles.

You stay quiet, staring at him. Jason opens his mouth again to speak.

“Okay, fine. If you lose, you have to come with me somewhere. Can’t say ‘no.’” He tilts his head teasingly. Matching your stare, the white streak in his hair falling into his eyes, no longer pulled back from the breeze from driving. “I’ll even buy you breakfast that day.” He negotiates.

“Five questions if I win—“ You held up five fingers to emphasize yourself.

“That’s the spirit!” Jason interrupted from excitement.

“I get one question, no matter what even if I lose,” You wanted to make sure you got something out of today. “And I’ll go anywhere you want.” You glanced back at your steering wheel. Adjusting yourself and glancing to the race track up ahead, deciding how to effectively drive through it.

“You’re on.” Jason watched your side-profile, enamored by your serious face, concentrating as you chewed on your lip slightly.

He watched closely, noticing the slight sparkle to your eyes once you were satisfied with your plan. A slight warmth in his stomach when you surprised him, looking back at him with a smug look. A playful evil smile on your lips.

He was crazy about seeing the new reactions he riled up in you. Jason tried to memorize them, saving them into his mental photo album of you.

“Go!” You shout, speeding off, leaving him behind in your imaginary dust.

——

It was all for nothing, you had lost.

Jason had surpassed you a third of the way to the end of the track even with your head start.

Curse his world record. It even applied to go-karts.

“Is this ‘cause I stole your sandwich last week?” You groaned, exiting the track for the next group of people to get their chance to race. “It was an accident that I never took it out of the bag, I only noticed after I got home.”

You were so engrossed in finding a silly reason for Jason’s win that you almost walked into the group of people walking toward you, ready for their turn to race.

Jason grabbed the sides of your shoulders, guiding you in a different direction, careful to not let you bump into them.

You didn’t even flinch at the physical contact, getting use to Jason’s brief touch, you honestly welcomed it.

Jason was about to speak before a group of teens and children ran up to him, asking for an autograph. A small boy even asked to sign his jacket, saying he wanted to frame it. Another girl said to sign her hand, enthusiastically telling Jason she’ll never wash her hand again.

You covered your smile, watching Jason kneel down to her level, telling her how unhygienic that is, but he can sign her shirt too.

Hopefully her parents won’t be too mad at that.

You gave them space. Going to the food stands to grab a lemonade. When you turned back you watched Jason interact with the group of kids, happily making them laugh. Telling them to be safe on the go-karts.

It was cute to watch him try to take a selfie with one of the teens. They had to tip toe, trying to reach Jason’s height before he leaned down to wink to the camera.

When the kids ran off, excitedly yelling to one another at the chance encounter, you leaned against one of the nearby chairs watching Jason walk back to you.

“I do not understand kid slang anymore.” He chuckled to himself, standing in front of you. “What does ‘slay’ mean?”

You nearly burst out laughing, almost spitting some of the lemonade out.

“What did they say to you?” You wiped the corner of your mouth, a tiny bit of lemonade on the edge.

Jason looked at your mouth for a split second, then met your eyes again.

“Uh, they said I ‘slayed’ and then one boy proceeded to repeatedly say ‘skibidi?’” Jason looked at you, genuinely confused. “Did I miss something? I genuinely don’t know if I should be thankful or worried?”

“It’s just children being children, I know ‘slay’ is positive, but you lost me on the other one.” You smile as Jason raised his hand, thumb brushing the corner of your lip, gently wiping the edge.

Did you miss a spot? You were sure you got all the lemonade off.

From a distance, you heard giggling. Another group of kids watching from behind a half wall, immediately ducking behind it, hiding when you and Jason glanced over to the noise. One kid never ducked, watching intently as their eyes sparkled over the arm rest, another kid tackling him to the ground, a loud ‘oof’ echoing after a thud. Not long after, you heard two kids whisper shouting at one another.

You chuckled, amused at your nosy onlookers.

“Let’s get out of here, I got one question I need to use and I need to hear about this place you have to take me to.” You sung as you stood up, walking to the exit with Jason by your side.

——

You walked next to Jason, brisk air felt through your hair once you met the breezy outside. A slight chill eating at your spine underneath your thick jacket.

The winter air freezing more each day.

“Question time?” You glanced up at Jason.

“Not yet.” He walked up to his motorcycle, handing you a helmet.

You unconsciously grabbed it, questioning what was going on. Standing there, awkwardly holding onto it.

“Why do I need this?” You raised an eyebrow.

Jason put on his helmet, the combination with the leather jacket did wonders for your eyes.

You could no longer see his sharp eyes, covered by the black visor, reflecting your confused face.

Jason looked at you.

“A quick ride.” He nonchalantly answered, raising his thumb to rub at your raised eyebrow as you closed your left eye. “Get on.”

He was really fond of touching your face for some reason.

“I’ve never—I don’t even know how to get on.” You looked down at the helmet, staring at your reflection again.

Jason sat down on the seat, starting the motorcycle and revving it.

When he was satisfied with the sound, he waved you to come closer. When you stood at his side, he grabbed the helmet out of your hands and placed it on your head himself. Looking at his work, he nodded, satisfied with himself.

Then he pat the small section behind him.

“That’s not a seat.” You reluctantly looked between the nonexistent seat and Jason.

“Yes, it is.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I could fall off.” You spoke through the helmet.

“Not if you hold onto me.” Jason proudly explained.

You could hear the smirk on his face despite it being completely covered. Paired with the laid-back lean he had to his body and the ego he was wearing, it was intoxicating.

You sighed. Awkwardly stepping on the small step, throwing your leg over the motorcycle, adjusting yourself as you tried to balance your weight, Jason’s build helping you practically not move the machinery beneath you.

“Did you plan this? How do you have an extra helmet?” You questioned as you tried to find something to grab onto with your hands, not wanting to consider Jason’s shoulders or even worse, his waist.

“Aw, don’t waste your one question on that.” Jason playfully revved the motorcycle again.

“Just go before I change my mind—”

Jason accelerated forward, taking off and cutting off your words as you felt your body leaning back. You nervously grabbed onto his shoulder, then pulled your weight toward him. As scared as you were, you didn’t realize you had shifted yourself, grabbing onto his waist. Pressing your helmet to the back of his broad shoulders, forcing yourself to look down as you closed your eyes.

“You asshole—“ You yelled against the wind.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you!” Jason spoke loudly, clearly lying to you.

You squeezed his side, trying your best to pinch him through his leather jacket.

He only laughed at you.

——

When you got to your apartment, he stopped outside. You were discombobulated at how fast he drove. You wanted so desperately to call it reckless, but he was also weirdly in control.

You could worry about that later.

Once Jason parked, he put the kickstand into place, but you didn’t move. Still clutching onto his jacket.

“See that wasn’t so bad.” Jason teased.

You didn’t say anything. Only looking at the back of his head, hands clawing at him.

“Hey, you okay?” Jason worriedly looked back, not able to read your expression through the helmet that blocked your face.

He tried to turn his entire torso to you as much as he could. His demeanor changed to frantic.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

That whipped you out of your blank stare.

“You better never invite me to your place or I’ll steal your TV remote, hide your phone charger, and make sure to take one side of all your socks, so you never have a matching pair.” You quietly threatened, not sounding intimidating to Jason.

He got off the motorcycle, you let go of his jacket as he pulled away.

A small laugh came from his helmet.

“Then I’m going to break into your place and use your TV, your phone charger, and wear your socks.” Jason reached out, holding his hand out to help you off.

“Don’t you dare, I have everything perfectly organized and you’re going to mess it up.” You pouted, grabbing his hand, slowly getting off the back of the motorcycle.

“Then I’ll bring my new TV remote, my new phone charger, and all my one-sided socks after I break into your place.” Jason unexpectedly pulled you close to him.

Your helmet bumping into his chest, as you tried to catch your fall on gripping his forearm with one hand, then reaching up to touch your head, but your hand only touched the smooth helmet surface instead.

You quickly glanced up. Only seeing the dark visor as it looked down to you. Jason still holding onto your hand.

“I’m sorry, I drove too fast.” Jason softly apologized, a tone you’ve never heard from him. Too soft, it made your heart ache.

You almost forgave him, almost, but your racing heart distracted you.

You prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat.

“Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? Breakfast and then take you somewhere?” Jason continued, warming your hand in his.

You almost lost your sanity because you swore his helmet got closer to yours.

You cleared your throat.

“I’m using that question tomorrow, for sure. You can’t back out.” You turned your head to the side, not fully back to yourself to handle the intensity of his stare.

You thanked the helmet gods for covering his puppy-eyed look with a visor.

He tapped the top of his helmet to yours, letting it rest there.

You froze. You were sure your ears were bright red. Thanking the helmet gods again for shielding you.

Jason breathily laughed, it made your stomach tingle.

“I can’t wait.” Jason whispered before pulling away from you, hand lingering on yours before he let go, your palm cold.

He helped you pull your helmet off, your hair most likely matte against your head.

Jason waved goodbye, ready to drive down the street before he yelled.

“I’ll be here by eight!”

The sound of the engine fading low in the distance.

——

You were dragging the next morning.

Getting ready, putting on your usual clothes, but knowing how much Jason loved to move around, you opted for reasonable clothes you can maneuver in.

It was a quarter until eight. Not bad, you were doing good on timing.

You laced up your shoes, grabbing a jacket. Placing any essentials you needed for the mysterious day.

Thank goodness Jason was getting breakfast, you needed something to jump start you.

When you locked your door, walking down the steps from the second floor to the ground floor, you saw a familiar motorcycle parked outside. With a familiar broad back standing next to it, the back of his head in clear view.

Your eyes brightened as you raced down the stairs, hopping down the last three steps.

A wall separated you and Jason as you stopped, hiding just before the edge, calming yourself, taking a breath, brushing off nonexistent dust on your jacket.

You casually walked out, acting like you didn’t have a burst of excitement at seeing him.

“Five minutes early? Wow, I’m honored you did that for your ‘lil reporter.’” You quipped as Jason turned back to you at the sound of your voice.

A hand brushing through his hair. What a good morning.

“Breakfast delivery, check. Your ride, check. The most handsome man in front of you, check.” Jason proudly presented his bag of breakfast goods to you.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” You quickly grabbed the bag, excited to eat.

After the two of you devoured your meal, you were ready to leave. You easily grabbed onto Jason’s sides, feeling the engine come to life beneath you once you joined the daily traffic.

You started to recognize the change in scenery.

Crime Alley.

You hadn’t been here in ages, a somber feeling itching at you.

After coming to a stop, you read a small sign ‘Donations and Free Meals.’

You looked at Jason, who didn’t look back at you. He moved his motorcycle into the garage to the side of the building. They seemed to be connected, only separated by a door on the shared wall. He left both of your helmets, closing the garage door.

You followed Jason like a duckling, his motions fluid, in routine.

He must come here a lot. Saying ‘Hi’ to many faces, just as glad to see him back, introducing you to every person he knew.

No one knew about any of this. Not the public, no one but the locals.

He got in line, helping to organize the stock of donations, other volunteers prepping food, just done with serving free breakfast.

You quickly fell in with the volunteers, asking where you can go to.

A new stock of winter clothes had come in, available in adult sizes and for children. You were confused, not at what Jason seemed to be doing on the weekdays he wasn’t at the race track, but why he never mentioned it.

You watched from afar, staring at Jason put on a pair of work gloves. Smiling at the other men helping him lift heavy boxes.

He was avoiding you, you knew he could feel your blank stare from across the room.

Okay, Mr. Todd. You get this one pass. You thought to yourself, moving back to hand out winter jackets to the group of kids coming in through the door. You were going to make him face you one way or another.

——

Lunch was here.

It was time to corner Jason.

When you walked around, you thanked the founders of the organization for allowing you to be here today as you passed them, looking for Jason at the same time.

Asking those you met earlier that day if they had seen him.

The best you could find out was he tends to spend the breaks in the garage next door, where he parks.

You grabbed two sandwich trays, making your way back to the garage.

You opened the door, pushing it open with your hip as you balanced the to-go trays.

“Y’know you could have told me to wake up earlier if you wanted to help out with serving breakfast.” You voiced, Jason cleaning his motorcycle with a microfiber rag. Only momentarily stopping when he heard your voice.

You placed his sandwich tray on the table, storing some simple maintenance tools.

You folded out the metal chair leaning against the wall, opening your lunch.

“I hope your not mad, I know I didn’t explain anything.” Jason stammered, nervously wiping more aggressively.

“I’m not mad. Surprised, but I wouldn’t be mad at volunteering.” You took a bite, talking like normal.

Jason stayed silent, not moving. Looking down at the very shiny motorcycle.

“Please eat with me, Jason.” You tilted your head to his plate of food.

With a sigh, he took off his gloves, sitting next to you on a bench, not facing you.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, calm.

“I was riding around one night.” Jason paused. “It wasn’t a good night before I stumbled across this place.”

Jason grabbed one slice of the sandwich, only looking at it.

“I only mentioned it, but my family…has bad history. It has gotten better, but it doesn’t resolve what happened.” Jason lost himself in the memories, before inhaling. Almost preparing himself to speak again.

“My career was at its peak, but my family was crashing again, so I distanced myself. Almost a record at this point.” He lowly chuckled, but he wasn’t amused, his shoulders slightly sinking.

You stopped eating, joining Jason in only holding your sandwich.

“I was so tied down by the Wayne family name. Like it haunted me. I couldn’t do anything without someone breathing down my neck, ready to ask about Bruce’s next scandal. I didn’t care because what did that have to do with my career? I ignored it. Let myself get lost in training, but I didn’t realize how much I evaded everything. I avoided anything to do with them.”

Jason heavily exhaled, laying his full sandwich back down. His appetite diminishing.

“I was in such a dark place. My mind wasn’t here. I can’t thank my management enough for what they let me get away with. I should have never gotten away with anything, but they helped me, assisted me. I wish I could thank them properly, but nothing I could do could make up for it.” Jason spoke, admitting a personal part of him that you held your breath at.

“It was good. I was winning again, despite everything around me, but I couldn’t maintain it. I burned out so fast that I was out for almost an entire season. But I found this place. It surprised me seeing it off the road. It was a place that supported itself, by itself. No Wayne name attached to it. It surprised me.” Jason sadly laughed again. “I was so lost, I almost forgot that Gotham helped itself too, no rich guy dipping himself in everything. The city has its issues, but the people in it work just as hard to change it.”

Jason looked at you for the first time.

“As much as I hate it, I deal with it because I want the people I care about to be safe. So just like these people here, I picked myself up.”

A heavy air settled on the both of you.

Jason stared at you, unbreakable and somber. Your breath still stuck in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. You were speechless.

You silently put down your food, moving your chair closer to him, leaning toward him.

Jason’s hands were shaking, not at all matching his hard stare, watching your every move.

“Y’know, I’ve always preferred you in red, not black.” You softly glanced down at Jason’s red hoodie.

His expression slowly softening, a small smile on his lips as his head hung low, trying to mask his pained expression.

You reached your hand out. Gently cusping your hand under his chin, gently moving his face back up to yours. It felt closer than it was.

“That must have been so difficult. I can’t imagine all the pain you went through, the pressure from your races must have hurt, but the unintentional pressure from your family…I can’t imagine it.” You spoke so softly, that it felt like a whisper.

Your thumb gently smoothing out his frown lines.

“Jason, you must realize that you’ve accomplished so much. You don’t have to push yourself until your body hurts. No one but you will suffer from that and you don’t deserve it. We’ve only met a couple of times these past few weeks, but seeing how free and loose you were, that’s the Jason I adore.” You pulled his face toward yours. Emphasizing your seriousness in your face. “You aren’t tied down by anything, you can choose what to care about. Like your racing team, your brothers, and even Bruce. It may not be my place to tell you any of this, but I’ve seen what you’ve done today. How involved you are.”

You huffed, suddenly passionate. Jason’s eyes widening.

“I talked to multiple people about what you’ve done for them, how often you come by. I don’t need to hear it from you about what you’ve accomplished. It’s what I do. I find information. Talk to the people and they can tell you so much. Although you may probably feel like you are mimicking Bruce, putting your hands in things you shouldn’t, but you don’t just drop things off with a fancy card signed with your name. You introduce yourself, put on some work gloves, and deny any food they offer you.”

Jason smiled, laughing. Feeling his breath on your face.

“Why are you laughing right now?! I’m being serious!” You exhaled in disbelief, gripping more firmly onto Jason’s face.

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen you so emotional. I know it sounds bad, but knowing that you’re getting so angry because of me, makes me so weirdly happy.” Jason smiled, his teeth in clear view.

You frowned.

You like Jason’s smile, but in this moment, you wanted to wipe it away.

So you pinched his cheek.

“Ack—“ Jason’s smile going away at the slight pinch. “What’s that for?” He tried to pull away, but you kept your hands on the sides of his face.

“I tried to have a serious moment, Mr. Todd.” You angrily reverted back to your formal address of the driver smushed between your hands.

“Hey—quit that.” Jason couldn’t see much as you mischievously smirked.

In retaliation, Jason grabbed the base of your chair, pulling you closer as the legs screeched against the concrete, you swayed against the movement. Clumsily falling forward, nearly colliding face to face with Jason.

“You idiot, I almost fell!” You grimaced, not fully realizing the close distance of your face and body. Your hands still on his face.

Jason fell silent.

You glanced at him, lost for words. Your eyes widening at your noses almost touching.

You entire body was just inches away from fully touching him.

Your breath picking up, your heart beats increasing.

Jason’s eyes glanced between yours. Until it fell to your lips, opened slightly as you exhaled.

Your ears were reddening.

Everything fell in slow motion.

Jason’s hands lifted from the chair, moving toward your legs.

You breath stopped.

Creak.

You whipped your head around. The door opening as a volunteer walked into the garage. A man standing still, quickly analyzing the proximity of the two of you, the sandwiches moved haphazardly. From his angle, it had looked like you were enjoying lunch, despite both of your sandwiches barely touched.

“Oh—I, sorry.” The man immediately closing the door. A loud thud shaking the walls.

“Oh god.” Your face dropping into your hands. “That is so embarrassing.”

“We’re adults, it’s not so bad.” Jason shook his shoulders, turning around to grab his sandwich to finish.

“How am I going to go out there? I swear I only do embarrassing things around you, how could I act like a little kid fighting with you—“ You stopped, following Jason with your eyes as he stood up. “What do you mean ‘we’re adults?’”

“Sorry, lunch is over.” Jason grabbed his glove on the way out, shoving the sandwich into his mouth, pointing at it like he can’t talk.

“Jason!” You yelled as he closed the door.

End A/N: I headcanon that Jason for sure heard reader rushing down those steps and he nervously tried to fix his hair in his side mirror HEHEHEHE

[vacantfields]

Seth Freak splash cover for a magazine JKSHGKJSHG He is a silly npc for my horse group!! (: SKJGHSKJH hope u enjoy da tiddies

[ppersonna]

half baked - pjm | m

baby we two distant strangers. i know you don't speak my language, but I love the way she's talking to me - love talk, wayv

↳ summary- park jimin gets a job at your bakery, and you can’t help but find yourself annoyingly attracted to the cocky man.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ word count- 5.2k

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, lightly dom!jimin, sub!reader, slight enemies2lovers, sex in a kitchen, please god don’t fuck in a kitchen its a health code violation, spanking, nipple play, cum play, fingering

↳ a/n- ahHH!HHHHhhh!H! i blame this 100% on @wwilloww​ for merely putting the idea in my head and i had to take it and run with it.  also thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ my babe/my loml for the amazing banner! i truly do not deserve u but ily so much.  and thank you to @chimoona​ @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @taetaewonderland​ for being the best mf squad a lady could have and beta-ing this for me! i love you all so much! i hope you enjoy silly cocky jimin!

 Two cups of flour, one and three quarters cup sugar, 2 cups of butter.

You know the recipes by heart.  In fact, one might postulate that the recipes themselves are the sole contents of your heart.  

You live and breathe baking. It is your solace and your truest love.

Which is why it is all nearly thrown into catastrophe when Park Jimin comes into the picture.

It starts on a rather busy day.  You’re hard at work in the kitchen, prepping the finished products and presenting them in neat little boxes, when your best friend and co-owner of Wake ‘N Bake, Willow, lets out a frustrated squeal..  You turn your head to find her covered head to toe in flour, making you snort as she shoots you a playfully ominous glare.

“Shut up,” she sniffs as she attempts to pat some fine dust off of her, to no avail. “I only have two hands and about fifty things to do with them at the same time.”

Your lips part to reply something equally sassy when the bell over the front door rings, notifying you of a paying customer.  Grabbing a towel, you quickly wipe off cookie debris and throw it at your best friend to do her best to clean off as she follows behind you.

You pause as you take stock of who stands there. A handsome man arrives at the cash register and peers around, presumably looking for an employee.  He is gorgeous—ethereal even and looks like someone who walked out of the pages of a magazine. His bone structure screams model, and you can’t help but feel the stirrings of desire for the beautiful stranger.

“Hi! Welcome to Wake ‘N Bake!” Willow sings cheerfully, despite being coated in baking flour.

The man eyes her with a glint of humor in his eye, and Willow’s cheeks turn a hue of pink when she remembers her current appearance.

“Hi,” he speaks. His voice is smooth like butter, and gentle. It makes you feel weak, like you’re warming in the very ovens that your pastries rise in.

“I saw your shop from down the street and I had to stop in. Your desserts look amazing.  Is the owner here by chance?”

Your smile fades as he looks around the room for someone else, someone beyond you and your best friend.

Of course.

No one believes that two young women could start and maintain their own business. Everyone assumes that some older, well-off man was at the helm while you and Willow toil for minimum wage.

Your arms cross over your body in clear displeasure.

“We are the owners.”

“Oh!”  The man looks surprised but not put off. “Awesome. I was hoping I could… talk to you about, err—… a job?”

His face is sheepish and Willow nearly coos at the sight.

Unfortunately, it appears you and your best friend have warring ideas.

“Yes!” She chimes at the same moment you dead-pan a resounding ‘No’.

Your heads spin to stare at each other—Willow’s eyes wide in disbelief and yours in annoyance.

“We need the help!” She huffs.

“We can do things on our own, like we always have,” you remind her.

Willow gestures to her flour covered clothing in desperation.

“We clearly could use help with how successful we have gotten!”

To your chagrin, she has a point. It might be nice to have someone to help in the front while the two of you manage the kitchen in the back.  It would increase your productivity by double what you’re able to do now.

But there’s something about his attitude coming in that rubs you the wrong way.  Like, he’s too pretty. Too confident. Too nice.

“What’s your baking experience?” You ask as you turn back to the hopelessly lost, yet ever eager man.

“Oh, err—,” he stutters. “I worked at my friend Jin’s restaurant. That served desserts, too?”

You shake your head in disdain while Willow claps her hands in excitement, a puff of white flour dust pluming into the air.

“Perfect! So you could do sales!?”

“Yeah! I can do sales, no problem.”

You turn your gaze back to Willow who stares at the man like he is her knight in shining armor.

“Willow?! Can I talk to you in the back?”

She knows that tone—the one that tells her you’re not pleased with her decisions. She nods once and politely excuses the both of you from the man before heading back towards the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong with you?!” She asks the moment the swinging door closed.

“Me?!” You’re incredulous—hands flying in the air. “You’re over here trying to hire the first Joey Hot-Lips who walks in off the street!”

Willow’s anguished face falls and turns into a devilish smirk as she leans back on her heels.

“Aha! You’re attracted to him,” she notes as if she figured out the world's greatest mystery. “That’s why you don’t want him here.”

“What? No!” Your defense crumbles around you. “Did you hear him? He totally acted like he didn’t believe we could be the owners!”

“Oh, come on, that was a simple mistake and you know it!  You’re just being protective.”

You ‘humph’ a non-committal response—unable to argue.

You are protective of your bakery. It’s your combined love child with Willow. What started as a dream between cocktails with your best friend became a real brick and mortar reality.  You had been through enough trying to open it you can’t help but feel skeptical of anyone trying to get involved. Many tried to discredit your ability to maintain such a successful shop, and you’d rather continue to run it with no one else than see it fall at the hands of another.

“Just as I thought,” Willow hums. “In that case, he’s hired!”

You’re given no chance to reply—the flour-covered girl pushes through the swinging doors and announces to the handsome man that he’s hired and free to start the following day.

“Great!  Thanks!” His smile is sincere—blinding and breathtaking, and you hate how much you want to see that smile again.

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, waving goodbye as he exits the chiming door.

“Now, you need to deal with whatever issues you have about letting others into the shop,” she says pointedly, pushing a finger into your arm gently. “And whatever issues you have with wanting to bone him.”

“Willow!” You gasp. “I do not want to bone him!”

“Sure, babe. You think you can fool me but I know you too well. Just try not to fuck him in the kitchen, alright? I don’t need the health inspector up our ass.”

The next early morning starts at 4:30 am, with you elbow deep in cookie dough for a catering order.  You’ve nearly forgotten about the new employee starting until the man himself strolls into the back kitchen as if he’s worked there for years.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully, two cups of coffee in his hands. “I got you a coffee. Willow said you’re a nightmare without some in the morning.”

Your eyes narrow at the man. It’s unfair how delicious he looked so early; while you look like a frizzy mess who rolled out of bed and walked into work (which you did), he looked polished and crisp and clean. It’s infuriating as much as it’s glaringly attractive.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you pick cookie dough off your hands and pull off your plastic sanitary gloves. “Every girl loves hearing she’s a nightmare.”

He chuckles behind his steaming cup and places yours on the workbench next to you.

“Those were her words, of course. I’d never call you a nightmare.”

You easily flush, then chastise yourself for allowing him to make you feel so weak so early in the morning.

“To be fair,” he continues. “I don’t even know your name.”

“___,” you sigh as you grab the coffee and bring it to your lips. “And you?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The first sip of coffee is like a soothing hug. He somehow knew how you took your coffee—two creams and two sugars.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess.”

Jimin smirks and looks proud of his accomplishment.

“You seem like the type of girl who likes balance to her sweetness.”

You stare at him curiously over your own steaming paper cup, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Good morning to the love of my life!” Comes the voice of your best friend entering through the back door.

You roll your eyes in amusement as she teeters in, peppy and perky as she always is this early.

“Oh! Hi, Jimin.”  Her cheeks turn a familiar shade of rose as she realizes he heard her. “I didn’t know you were here yet.  That’s just a… thing we say to each other every morning.”

“Cute.” Jimin smirks at you, making your stomach lift with unwanted butterflies. “Where do you want me?”

Underneath you, beside you, above you, any possibly way...

You shake your head quickly to push away the sexual thoughts of the gorgeous man taking you from any position. No, you refuse to let your mind wander there.

Willow finishes washing her hands and putting on her apron before she nods to the fridge.

“If you can get the milk, eggs, and butter out, we’ll use you for creaming.”

Your cheeks heat impossibly as Jimin smirks even wider.

“Oh, I’m fantastic at creaming.”

Your hands pause from where they massage dough while you close your eyes and breathe, before lifting to glare at your best friend who wears a faux-innocent look.

“I’m sure you are, Jimin,” she chimes virtuously, before getting to work.

The next few weeks were a haze. You’re so caught up with graduations, birthdays, weddings and major events that your time spent at the shop overtakes your time sleeping, breathing, existing in any way that isn’t baking.

Even Jimin was busy.  Despite your initial hesitancy, he was proving to be an excellent third member of your team.  He’s a pro at sales—you’re sure his good looks and the mostly female clientele helps—and he pitches in in the kitchen without fail. He even tries his hand at decorating cakes, with only one frosting-based spill.  You would never give Willow the satisfaction of telling her outright, but she made an excellent decision in hiring the dazzling man.

But it doesn’t stop your annoying heart from fluttering every time he comes close to you—rubs elbows as he helps you roll out dough or smiles at you from across the workbench as he stamps out sugar cookies.  You refuse to allow yourself any thoughts on what it would taste like to lick dough off his fingers or how he would look bending you over the countertop to take you from behind.

You only allow such thoughts at night, safely tucked into bed with your vibrator cranked to the highest setting.

It doesn’t help that Jimin solidifies himself in your life by introducing his handsome and dopey best friend Jungkook to your gorgeous and clumsy best friend Willow.  The moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew you were doomed to have Jimin in your life with or without the bakery.

And you weren’t sure how to handle that notion.

Was Jimin flirting with you simply because you were there?  He seemed to have no problem flirting with the customers.  Sure, the shop has never made more money than when Jimin works his charms and seduces women of all ages to buy the extra cookies, cannolis, and cakes—not that you watched or glared or hated every second. No, of course not. It was for the good of your business and the angry jealousy demon inside you would need to stay firmly locked away.

Except, it’s on a particularly crowded day at the shop that your jealousy gets the best of you.

You’re up front assisting Jimin by boxing and bagging the treats he rings up.

You know he’s flirtatious, but it’s when he goes the extra mile for an extra pretty girl that you lose your cool on him the moment the customers leave.  

“Do you have to eye-fuck every single co-ed that walks in this place?!”

Your hands fly up in frustration, and Jimin watches you with a soft gaze.

His silence and knowing smirk makes you continue.

“Seriously? What the fuck was that about?! You’re acting like you’re about to bend her over right here in front of us! Jesus!”

Willow hears the commotion from the back and comes forward.

“What’s going on here?” She asks suspiciously.

You point towards Jimin who maintains his poised demeanor.

“I’m reminding Jimin that work is not a place to sexually engage our customers!”

Willow rolls her eyes as she pulls her apron off and grabs her coat from the hook.

“Whatever, you’re being ridiculous. Jimin’s never been inappropriate. Plus, he’s making us a fuck-ton of money,” she sighs. “You two can close up without killing each other right?”  She eyes you in particular.

You cross your arms and huff, glancing at the clock to find you have two hours still until closing. “Why? Where are you going?”

Willow’s annoyance fades away as if it never existed.

“Jungkook is taking me to the Museum of the Printing Press!”

You can’t help but choke a laugh while she pushes your arm.

“Shush! You know how much I love them! And he totally surprised me with tickets!”

Willow can’t shake that lovesick look in her eyes and your heart melts a little. She’s your best friend and you’re thrilled she’s found someone who wants to indulge her in her nerdy fascinations.

“Go have fun, babe,” you smile sincerely. “We can take care of closing. Now, go fuck on a letterpress or whatever!”

Willow snorts and hugs you tight, bids goodbye to Jimin, and exits the store.

Now that your quick anger is gone, you feel sheepish around the man who has yet to reply to your tirade—but you refuse to stick around under his piercing gaze.

“I’ll be in the back,” you mumble under your breath before slipping into the kitchen before he can get any word in edge wise.

You spend the rest of the evening monologuing an apology as you prep ingredients for the next morning and clean your workstations.  The shop is closed, doors locked, and Jimin is somewhere at the front of the house finishing his duties.

“‘Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted’,” you practice out loud. “Hm—no, not humble enough. ‘Hey Jimin, I was a real bitch’, too degrading?  Maybe something like, ‘Hey Chim, can I call you Chim? That was fucked up, wasn’t it? Haha.’ God!” You throw your rag down in a huff, frustrated at your inability to form a decent apology.

“You can call me Chim, if you want,” a voice speaks from behind you.

You squeak in surprise and turn around, clutching your apron in your hands as you find Jimin leaning against a wall with a smirk on his face.

“Only my closest friends call me Chim, but I think we’re close enough.”

You swallow hard and nibble at your lip.

“I’m assuming you heard that whole… thing,” you mumble anxiously.  His nod confirms that he heard your entire play-by-play of the apology you would deliver to the handsome man.

“Yeah,” he licks at his lips. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“J-jealous?” You nearly trip over your own tongue.  “I wasn’t—, I’m not jealous!”

Jimin begins a slow approach towards you, striding as he keeps his sparkling eyes on yours.

“Oh?”  He quirks his head, making his soft hair fall into his face.  You desperately want to push it away, cup his cheek, kiss those ridiculously plump lips.

He can tell you’re staring at this mouth and it makes his smirk turn nearly feral.

“So, you weren’t jealous? Not a single bit?”

He inches closer and you can feel your heart tighten in your chest and your stomach twists in on itself in excitement, in nerves.

“N-no,” you whisper, unconvincingly.

“You didn’t want to be the one I was making eyes at?  The one who ‘gets bent over the counter’ as you said?”

“I—,” Jimin cuts your words short as he stands a breath away from you.

“I guess if you weren’t jealous, then I don’t have to tell you you’re the one I really want to bend over the counter.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating—positive that it will fall from its place in your ribs into your feet.  

“What?”

Jimin cups a hand to your cheek and smiles as he steps even closer.

“If you’re not jealous, then I don’t have to reassure you you’ve got nothing to be jealous over.”

Your lips run dry, throat parched as if you’ve never had a sip of water.  Jimin is standing so close to you you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

“Jimin—,” you breathe and he continues forward until he presses you against the countertop and crowding you into the metal and wood.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

You gulp, eyes seeking his for an answer, for any information.  Is he playing you? Does he know you’re hopelessly attracted to him?  Does he find it humorous to tease you when Willow isn’t here to insert herself into your flirting.

“I was jealous,” you admit slowly. The words are hard to release, but once they do, the floodgates open. “I wanted to be the one you flirted with.  I was jealous because I want to be the one you notice.”

Jimin smirks, then pulls your face in quickly for a heated kiss.

His lips are just as plush, just as soft as you imagined.  They’re puffy and sweet and he tastes like one of the treacle tarts you made that morning.  He must have had one with lunch, and you find yourself addicted to the way he tastes with your creations on him. You wonder what he’d taste like with your arousal coating that tender, plump mouth.

He bites at your own lip and tugs, chucking under his breath as you mewl your desire at the slight hint of pain.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re angry like that,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours.  “I nearly popped a boner while you were yelling at me. I could tell you were jealous, and it made me want you more.”

It’s hard to hear him speak so candidly—it makes you groan.

“Jimin—fuck,” you sigh. “I’ve been attracted to you since you walked into this goddamn place.”

He smirks and snags your lips up in another desperate, yet quick, kiss.

“I know.  It’s why you didn’t want me to work here.”

You grumble after he pulls away, tired of the teasing and wanting nothing more than to stop talking and start doing.

“I didn’t like you because you assumed I wasn’t the owner.”

He smiles and rubs at your arms, a softer expression crossing his face.

“No, but I hoped you were.”

It’s silent for a moment and you let his words wash over you as he continues.

“I was attracted to your authority.  I could tell you were important here somehow, just didn’t know in what way.”

You swallow your growing guilt.  You had clocked Jimin entirely wrong.

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” you start.

“Hey, hey, I already heard your apology, remember?” He smiles.  “Although, I could think of a great way to mend the wounds if you’re interested.  No pressure.”

His soft smile becomes a devilish grin instantly and your body lights with instant arousal.

“What did you have in mind?”

His lips press to yours again and you nearly lose yourself completely in his embrace.  Your arms circle his neck and he holds you tight at your waist, before pulling away from you, yet again.

“I happen to be very good at creaming, if you’ll recall.”

You can’t hold back a snort of laughter, that quickly gets covered by Jimin’s hot lips, one’s he will not pull away from you any time soon.

“You want to, right here?” You ask as he trails a hot line down your throat.

“Yeah, do you?”  

You vaguely remember Willow’s threat of not fucking in the kitchen, but find you can’t seem to care an ounce.

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

Jimin needs to hear no more.  He pulls you close and kisses you with the remaining amounts of pent-up passion and emotion he feels for you.  He’s grown to love the way you take charge, the way you move through the building like you own the place—because you do.  He loves the power you radiate and wants nothing more than to make you give up that power for a single night, to him.

“You wanna do this… all the way?” He asks, re-assuring himself that he’s not throwing himself at his boss.

“I want you, Jimin.  I want you to bend me over this workbench and fuck me until I’m crying for more.  Please.”

He grins and lays a hand on your neck, fingers tracing the gentle lines.  

“I might not let you boss me around,” he warns.

“Take control.”  Your eyes are blazing with need.  It makes him smile, and he gives the moment a slight pause.

“Then, get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are for yelling at me.”

You’re sinking to your knees quicker than you can comprehend.  Jimin is almost thrown at how instantly you caved and submitted to him.  He watches as your eyes stay fixed on his and your hands work at the button of his tight jeans.  

“That’s right,” he murmurs.  “Right where you belong.  No one else.”

You preen—heart warming at the idea that you’re the only one he wants kneeling before him and tugging his cock out of its confines.  

It springs forward, and it pulls your gaze from Jimin’s magnetic eyes.  It’s long and thick, just like you suspected all those nights with your vibrator stuffed where he should be.  Your mouth waters at the sight and you lean towards it to mouth at it gently—pressing soft open-mouth kisses to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” Jimin gasps.  Your fiery mouth feels like heaven on his cock.  It’s something he’s equally dreamed about—spent many nights fisting his cock to the thought of you.

You take your time, licking tiny stripes around the head and down the shaft, until Jimin becomes weary of the teasing.

“Please, take it all.”  His request is so genuine, so needy, that you’re loath to deny him.

He slips into your mouth with ease, slicked up just enough by your trailing kisses that he slides in and hits the back of your throat in seconds.  His eyes close as he feels his cock-head hit the back of your throat—a tighter and more constricting feeling in your already impossibly tight mouth.  It feels like absolute bliss, and he’s gasping for air after mere moments of you holding him inside your mouth to the hilt.

He doesn’t need to speak; you know what to do.  Your mouth works him in and out, tongue swirling around any open real estate of his cock.   His moans echo around the tile of the kitchen walls and he’s sure that the sight of you on your knees with his cock disappearing in and out of your mouth will have him cumming in no time.  

He steels himself, makes his body behave because he wants to enjoy this and the way you feel.  As good as your mouth feels, he’s desperate to know what it’s like to slide into that cunt he’s spent too many nights dreaming about.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as you make delicious, slurping noises from the gathering saliva.  It’s a wet squelching sound that makes him even harder than what he believes is possible—all blood in his head now completely rushed to his dick for his pleasure.

“B-Babe!” He calls as he feels his balls tightening.  He doesn’t want to cum, not yet.

He grips your head by the scalp of your hair and pulls you off his cock that is seconds away from losing control.

“Please, I’ve got to fuck you,” he nearly begs.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk, licking the tip of his cock teasingly before standing up to his full height.

Jimin’s hands fly to your expensive leggings that you insist on wearing to work while he kisses you.  The kiss is feverish, frantic. It’s full of tongue and teeth and desperate moaning against each other as he pushes down the pants and delicate panties, and cups your cunt in one hand.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as the pad of his finger slides against your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked.  All from sucking my cock?”  He’s cocky and sucks a mark onto your neck as he massages the bundle of nerves.

“Don’t be arrogant now,” you warn with a smile.

He presses his tongue to your ear and licks a stripe and chuckles.

“I think you like it when I’m arrogant. Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He emphasizes his words by slipping two fingers into your channel and fucks into you, scissoring you open.  He cuts off any chance for you to retort by launching his lips back to yours and prowling around your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers are small but fill you so deeply, and you’re sure his hand is drenched with your arousal.

“J-Jimin, please,” you gasp as you pull your mouth away to breathe in deep.  “Please, just fuck me already.”

He growls into your ear.  

“I thought I told you you’re not in charge.”

He spins you easily until your back is pressed to his chest.  He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts, throwing the shirt away and quickly making work of your bra clasps to join the shirt on the floor.

His hands cup your full breasts and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling of his soft and warm hands.  He feels so good against the chilled skin of your chest and he tweaks and thumbs your nipples until they stand perky and erect.

“I’ve always wanted to bend you over this counter,” he muses in your ear as he pulls a nipple harshly.  It makes you squeak out at the pain, then moan as the pain turns into a sizzling, pleasurable spike that runs through your veins.

“Every time I would catch you staring at me, I just wanted to fuck your cute little throat until you were gagging around me.”

Your eyes close as he continues his abuse on your perky nipples and whispering his deepest thoughts about you.

“I wanted to lift your cute dresses and eat your cunt until you’re wailing loud enough all the customers can hear.”

“Jimin,” you nearly cry.  “Please, fuck me.”

You can feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your sodden folds to cover his length in your slick juices.

“I like it when you beg.”

He kisses at the juncture of your neck before letting his teeth graze over the spot and bites down—right as he pushes your face down to the workbench and slides his cock into your spread heat.

He bottoms out easily.  You’re soaking wet and he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.  He groans out loud—stunned by the heat and wetness of your pussy and how tight it grips him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he gasps as he gives himself and you a moment.  His hands grip at your waist, one hand coming to rub the tender skin of your supple ass.

“Jimin, fuck, you’re so big,” you whine.  

He brings his hand up, then slaps it down on your ass hard, hard enough that the crack echoes around the large kitchen.  You cry out in delight, in pain, as the reverberation of the stinging wraps around you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he whines as he sets a pace.  Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust, and he punctuates every few pumps into you with another hard slap to your ass.  He wants you screaming his name, crying out for him loud enough that the neighbors know who he is.

He’s relentless in his pumps—gripping your hips tight as he fucks you deep and senseless.  Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body.  Your tits rub raw against the wood of the workbench and you’re weeping fat tears of pleasure as Jimin continues his plight.

“God, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns.  “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You slide a hand down to your clit, eager to add the ultimate piece to what makes you unravel.  He grins and pumps into you harder, slaps your ass repeatedly until he knows it’s going to leave bruises.

“That’s right, baby, rub that pretty little clit,” he urges.  “God, I can’t wait until you you sit on my face and let me eat this fucking cunt for hours.”

You blubber a response of desire, nearly begging him for more and more, as you swirl your fingers around the tight bundle.  You’re peaking towards the summit of your climax, ascending to a point you’ve never gone before.

“Fuck, Chim!” You scream. “Gonna cum!”

Your warning falls on deaf ears—you’re cumming and pulsating around his thickness instantly and Jimin moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos.  “Your cunt is so good to me, baby.  Mmph—let’s frost this cake, now.”

Instantly, he’s groaning as he pulls his cock free from the vice-grip of your cunt and jerks himself twice to completion, allowing his hot seed to splatter against the tender flesh of your ass where he’s left a clear print of his hand.   The warmth soothes the battered skin and you shake your ass teasingly as he continues to stroke himself through his climax.

“Ohhhhh, my god,” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the wooden workbench as your breathing slowly settles back to normal.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper with a smile.  Jimin bends down to press soft kisses to your spine, before grabbing a towel to gently clean his cum off your beaten ass.

“Willow’s going to kill you for fucking me in the kitchen,” he warns with a laugh as he kisses the same spot he came on.

“It takes two to bake a cake, buddy,” you tease.

He laughs and brings a hand down to your untouched asscheek, making you squeal with delight.

“That’s not how the saying goes, but sure, doll.”

The next morning, you’re hard at work making a five-tiered wedding cake with Willow at your side, when Jimin throws open the door.

“Good morning to the loves of my life!”

Willow chokes on her own air while you hide a giggle behind your cake covered hand.

Jimin approaches the pair of you while she splutters and gasps.

“What?”  What happened last night after I left?”

Your cheeks heat and Jimin wears a face of pure cockiness.

“Oh my god,” Willow gasps as her eyes open wide, snapping your tender ass with her rag.  “You did NOT fuck in my kitchen!”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

taglist -  @preciouschimine​ @nyamjinnie​ @unicornnomore​ @bangtansbun​ @theneighborhoodfangirl​ @cyberbunny21​

[blisslilywrites]

Hello. You're good at it. You continue in the same spirit:) The scenario about how Hanamiya, Seto, Hara, Furuhashi, Akashi, Aomine, Kise read one book together with the s/o. Please. I congratulate you on the past holidays. I hope you've had a good rest.)

A/N: hellooo thank you so much for reading! ♡

KISE RYOUTA

“Ryouta! Let’s get this over with so we can go home!” Your voice echoed throughout the classroom.

“Ehhhh Y/N-cchi, I am listening!”

“I doubt it. Gosh, you read magazines when it’s all about you but can’t read a book? Read the book, READ IT.” The classroom became quiet when your boyfriend fixed his eyes upon the pages you were reading. Both of you were just the ones in the classroom. Well, it was a punishment for being loud in class. How did it happen?

You were discussing something at the back of your English class, then your teacher scolded you, “You can’t go home without reading the book and reporting it to me!” Yeah, it was hell for the both of you.

You continued reading to where you had left, you were able to comprehend each and every sentence but the silence your partner had made you felt different. You were harsh with him earlier, and so to replace the harshness, you kissed his cheek.

“Y-Y/N! W-what are you—,” He was surprised, but not as bewildered as you. Apparently your cheeks turned brighter red than his, “U–uhmmm, to lift up the spirit!”

Now silence had filled the classroom once again, this time it was not because of reading. Both of you weren’t even able to fix your gazes on the paper.

“Then.. Kiss me again,”

You coughed, “W–what are you saying! Let’s get back to work!”

“Ehhh you told me it’s to lift up my spirit-ssu! I couldn’t understand the book but when you kissed me it’s like all the words came running through my mind. I can understand it now!”

“What an opportunist!” You damned, but then you found yourself kissing his cheek once again.

The day ended with the two of you reporting to the teacher based on what you read. He answered every question right.

And when the two of you were walking to go home, “Y/N, let’s read again tomorrow.”

A reading with a kiss.

AOMINE DAIKI

You were lying on the couch reading your favorite book and listening to your boyfriend’s complaints. 

“What’s so good about that book anyway?”

“It’s a good book if you bothered to read anything other than your gravure magazines.”

“Hey I do read things other than my magazines.”

“Oh really?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Prove it then.”

His eyes glittered at the challenge. Standing up and walking over to you, he plucked the book from your hands before settling down next to you.

He started reading and unconsciously put an arm around you.

You stared at the sight before you with mild amusement. You figured it was probably just a matter of time before he gave up. Until then though, why not just enjoy the moment since this probably won't be happening again soon.

After a while, you were sitting in his lap as both you and him quietly read the book.

Every once in a while, he broke the silence to ask you what a particular word or phrase meant.

There were many times when you turned the page and Aomine would stop you as he hasn’t finished reading yet. 

Every time this happened, you’d look at him and see the intense concentration etched across his face. Then quietly, you’d think to yourself He's actually reading. Properly reading.

You weren’t gonna complain though. If he wants to spend the afternoon reading with you, you sure as hell weren’t gonna stop him.

You didn’t know how it happened nor did you know what was happening exactly.

All you knew was that you were quite comfortable.

By evening, the two of you had completed the book. 

You were honestly pretty surprised he made it through the entire book.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a loud snore coming from right behind you.

You let out a small sigh.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Turning to see his sleeping, snoring face, you smiled and took out your phone to snap a picture before setting the book down and snuggling up against him.

Book-reading was your thing and sleeping lazily was his.

HANAMIYA MAKOTO

“Hey, baka.” Hanamiya moved to the seat next to you, alighting a book to your desk you had for your elbows to stand and to play your phone leveled with your eyes. You felt your boyfriend rushed over your side, but that wasn’t a reason for you to stop what you were playing. Yep, you wouldn’t waste a prize just because of your bossy, sadist boyfriend—

“Give me that,” He grabbed your phone forcely out of your possession, diverting your attention to the certain attention seeker.

“Makoto-kun!” You complained, eyes squinching while attempting to grab your phone from his long arms.

“Y/N, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Well I don’t! Will you please just give me my thing?" You forced your way to get what you wanted, yet not long enough you surrendered already, crossing your arms in annoyance.

“I’ll give it to you after. For now..” He hid your phone inside his pocket, then opened the book he just brought. “I was told your grades were getting lower because of your meaningless games. Y/N, I know you’re stupid but you just can’t throw your education away.”

“Hey! I'm not trying to throw my education! It's just that.. well..” You averted your gaze from his to the front as your face slowly turned into light pink. The words wouldn't escape from your lips, yet Hanamiya managed to catch the unsaid words just fine.

“You don't understand the lessons, do you? Y/N, just how stupid are you? You could’ve asked.” By your boyfriend’s words, he persuaded you to read and study the lessons. Though he was only there to watch, telling you that you should learn on your own nonetheless he would constantly check how you progressed time by time.

AKASHI SEIJURO

You skimmed the shelves of the library, running your hands along the spines of the dusty books. Barely anyone came to this library anymore. You had to admit you haven't been coming here often either. With all the work you've got, it's hard to make time for yourself and your much-needed relaxation. It’s such a shame though because this library was one of the best places to just sit down and take a break from the world. And now here you were, scanning the titles for one to open and start reading. So far though, none of the books seem worth reading. They all just lacked a certain appeal. Sighing, you gave up with this section and walked over to one of the tables where a young man was sitting. He was reading a rather old-looking book when he looked up and caught sight of you.

“Still haven't found something to read y/n?” Akashi asked with a bemused smile before turning back to his book.

A playful frown appeared on your face. You moved to sit next to him and immediately started fidgeting all over the place. You turned your head to look at the book he was reading and a few lines snagged your interest.

‘Hey that looks familiar,’ you thought to yourself.

You leaned forward to properly see what he was reading.

The pages of the book were yellow and frayed. Small ink blotches dotted the paper here and there.

Akashi noticed you examining his book and turned to you with a raised eyebrow.

You blushed slightly but quickly regained your composure.

“Umm what book is that?” you asked, pointing to the book.

He showed you the cover and you immediately recognized it.

It was the book you were assigned to read in last year's English class. You didn't think much of it at first until you started reading it and became awestruck by it.

Nervously, you asked him if you could read it with him. He gave you a curious look before obliging.

And there you were, sitting in an almost empty library with Akashi reading one of your favorite books. You couldn’t ask for a better day than this.

FURUHASHI KOJIRO

At the very corner of the library, it was where you always sit; studying endlessly for an exam and sometimes, you would just read out of boredom. You would spend the whole day reading at the school library, and your boyfriend Furuhashi, inclined to bring you food amid its prohibition. Though the thing is, he’s in the library committee, it’s not that he uses it as an advantage, but he could always watch you everytime you read.

“Here you go,” Furuhashi placed a drink on your table for the 100th time, you laid your gaze upon the grape juice that was covered in moist, and redirected your sight to your special someone.

“Kojiro, thank you.” He blushed for your gratefulness, hid his fluttered expression and took a seat in front of you.

“What are you reading?” He asked.

“Flowers,”

“Oh yeah? What does it say about you?”

“I never said it’s about me. I said flowers.”

“And you are one,” A blush crept upon your features. You shared him your book about flowers and gardening as the two of you read together.

That wasn’t just the time of you together. Every time you read at your usual place in the library, he would come to join you. He complimented you every now and then.

SETO KENTARO

“Ken-chan, you promised to teach me. Wake up!” You pushed him to his waking yet he completely ignored. He snored, purposely.

“Ken-chan!” You kicked his chair for once, and you succeeded in bringing the lazy boy to his annoyance.

“I’m too lazy, Y/N-chan. You can do it on your own,” You spared him a gloomy smile, turned around and almost walked away when he caught your arm, causing you to return your footsteps to his side.

“Hey I told you to do it on your own. Where were you going?”

“Since you won’t help me, I’m going to ask the president.”

“Heya, don’t be silly. Come here,” He grabbed the textbook from your hands and placed it on the desk, he ordered you to sit down and started teaching you. 

You smiled at the thought of having a smart boyfriend to teach you when in need. He’d be always pushing you away when you want to learn more because of his laziness, but when you are to ask anyone else other than him, he’d be pretty jealous and will start teaching you without hesitations.

HARA KAZUYA

You and Hara arrived at the library safely, you made your way to search for the books you had been wanting to read whereas Hara immediately slouched his way to the tables and buried his head completely. He didn’t really want to go when you asked him, but as convincing you were to him, you were able to break his disinclination; though apathy followed him along the way.

“Ahhh! I can’t stand boredom!” Your seatmate bellowed, lifting his head just as you sat down adjacent to him. You ignored, settling the book onto the table.

“Y/N dear! Let’s go home!” The pages of the book were in delicate touch as you began reading a compilation of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.

“Y/N darling? Yohoooooo,” You were trying to focus, not letting yourself be distracted by someone you knew whiny.

“Y/N talk to me pleaseeee,”

“Y/N I love you--,”

“UHHH KAZUYA WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?!” You shout that led him to his silence. It wasn’t just him who got affected by your loud voice but also the people surrounding the area.

“Fine,” he scoffed. He became quiet for awhile, glancing at anywhere near him but the moment he laid his eyes upon the page you were reading, he saw familiar words that caught his attention.

“Hey, isn’t that ancient literature? Why didn’t you tell me!” He smiled and had the book at the center spot for him to be able to read it with you.

Hara didn’t like reading, yet his eyes sparked enthusiasm when it was about ancient literature, his favorite subject. He would constantly spout trivias and lots of things concerning the subject.

The next day he asked you to go to the library with him.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: House Call

Finally finished with the prompt that @firethatgrewsolow gave me a few weeks back: 77 Robert is your bae, and he comes home from the first leg of the tour, only to find out you're sick.

This was t o r t u r e... No kissing Robert? 😩😩😩 But I enjoyed where it went. Here you go. Nudity, but no smut. ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awaken to the sensation of weight pushing down on the bed. You are still a little weak and disoriented, but then you remember where you are, as well as who has joined you.

It is Robert. It must be just into Sunday morning. You know that you must've slept all yesterday, because he said he'd be home from the tour around 2 a.m.

A sneeze comes barreling out of your nose, and your head reels. You decide to focus on the positive: the first leg of the tour that started a couple of months ago is over, which means you'll have a few weeks alone with your love. But you wish that you weren't so sick on his first night home.

He kisses your cheek. “Hmm… You're burning up, love. Are you OK?”

He smooths your hair out of your face and feels your forehead. He turns on his nightstand light and looks around the room.

On your nightstand are a teacup, a near-empty bottle of honey, a box of cold pills, and a stack of magazines. A box of tissues has fallen to the floor, and your trash can is filled with discarded tissues.

“When did this happen?” he asks. You were fine the last time the two of you talked on the phone.

“It hit me really bad yesterday,” you croak out with a scratchy throat.

You tell him that he might not want to get too close to you because of your awful cold. The tour was already delayed because he was sick, and you'd hate for it to happen a second time.

He dismisses your fears. “No microscopic germs are going to keep me away from you tonight. I'll be here nursing you back to health, so you can do all those things you promised last week that you'd do to me.”

You're secretly happy for his disregard, but you hope it won't turn out to be a bad decision. You smile weakly and take your first good look at him in months. He's on top of the covers in his t-shirt and jeans, after tossing his favorite leather jacket and red Converse sneakers and socks in a pile on the floor.

He looks a little leaner than when he left, and his hair is a little longer. He's still wearing the linked collar necklace that he picked up while you two were on holiday last year, and he's paired it with a new lightning bolt pendant on a longer chain.

His smile hasn't changed one bit, though. The way your body is jolted by electric enchantment when you see him hasn't changed, either.

You reach for Robert, nestling your fingers between his. He gently squeezes your hand.

“First order of business: are you comfortable?” He fluffs your pillows so you can sit up.

“And how about tea? Would you like some more? I can put the kettle on.”

You nod and thank him. He kisses your forehead, grabs your empty teacup and honey bottle, and leaves for the kitchen.

With the water heating, he comes back to the bedroom, strips off his clothes, and joins you under the covers.

You slide back down in the bed and snuggle into him. You are wearing a thin, long-sleeved nightgown. The heat you feel when he drapes his arms around you and presses his chest into your back is comforting, just what the doctor ordered. The two of you cuddle for a while.

You turn around and spend a lot of time gazing into Robert's eyes while he smiles and traces the features of your face. The view into his stormy blue eyes that you missed so much is one of the main things keeping you awake at the moment.

“We had a string of great shows, but I wish you were there to share the fun with me,” he says, breaking the spell after a while.

He kisses the top of your head. “I have some souvenir surprises for you. I'll give you them in the morning.”

You thank Robert for the gifts and let him know that you missed him, too.

The angry whistle of the tea kettle pierces the air. “I'll be right back,” Robert says.

He blesses your eyes with the golden-skinned vision of his retreating figure. His easygoing amble means that you have more than enough time to enjoy the view of his athletic body.

You fixate on his suitcase and carry-on backpack on the floor once he's gone. You're wondering how big the load of laundry will be, how many new shirts, shoes, and pieces of jewelry he brought back with him this time. You're also curious to see how many books and records he bought - - he always travels light so he can bring home whichever new things catch his eye.

You hope your souvenir isn't another piece of lingerie, because you teased him that you'd run screaming from the house if he found a way to weasel another post-concert striptease out of you.

You hear Robert's footsteps softly hitting the carpet in the hall. You quickly turn on the light on your side of the bed so you can better see the sight that you've missed dearly during your time apart.

Robert, just being his proud, affable self, doesn't disappoint. He's wearing only his brightest smile. His focus is on you, focusing on him.

He carries a tray with your teacup, a plate of digestive biscuits, and a brand new bottle of honey. He sits the tray on your lap.

He looks to your lamp and grins wider. “I didn't expect to be back in the spotlight so soon, darlin’,” he drawls. He places his hands on his hips and tosses his hair off his shoulders. He turns his face, presenting the side of him that is always photographed.

Part of you wants to roll your eyes at how Robert is shamelessly posturing in his trademark concert stance, but you can't deny that you've been yearning to see his heavenly visage and statuesque body again and appreciate each second of his preening.

You drink in every aspect of his presence, from the curls on his head to the fuzz dusting his broad chest and stomach, to his abundant manhood and his shapely thighs. Your admiration darkens to lust, and you begin to feel feverish in a familiar way that is clearly not due to your illness.

“That's enough of that; gotta save your strength for later, yeah?” His wicked grin turns to something more innocent as he hops into bed and pulls the covers over his chest. You tease him for being so modest now.

He tells you to turn off your lamp so you can fall asleep, when the time comes, without interruptions. And then he fills you in on all the antics and gossip from the road, acting out his favorite stories with gestures and silly voices.

You laugh the whole time, and it makes up for the lack of his fun-loving presence for so long. Sure, there were moments of amusement on the phone, but it's just not the same. You tell him again that you're glad he's back.

After some more chatter, Robert realizes that your energy is winding down. He takes your tray back to the kitchen.

When he comes back, he rummages through his bag and returns to the bed with a book. “It's The Silmarillion,” he says. He knows you've been excited as he has been about it when you've talked on the phone.

He begins to read it to you while you settle into his arms again and lay your head on his chest. It feels like an extremely delightful fever dream, but the music of his soft, accented speech with the bass line of his heart beat means without a doubt that he's back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

[drist-n-dither]

11 Question Tag

Rules: answer 11 questions, write 11 questions for others and tag 11 writers!

1. How many WIPs do you currently have on the go?

I have one official WIP, The Ave’s Egg! The second one might just be @littlesilverlightning‘s fake fic title, Lips Like Honey! LLH would defiantly would be a more lay back piece for me!

2. Would you ever experiment in writing other than novels? E.g. Short story collection, poetry etc.

I love writing poetry! I have poems published in a mini magazine called Brevities. I have tried short stories, i’m not really good at them, but i’ve never finished a project yet so how can I ever know? I’ve also done script writing for videos, short films, voice overs and things like that. I’d love to get into Play/ Musical stage script writing though! 

3. What author inspires you to write?

Tamora Pierce, Patrick Rothfuss, Douglas Adams, Ray Bradbury, Stephen King. 

4. What time of day do you enjoy writing at most?

I really enjoy either writing late at night or dark and early in the morning! 

5. Are you a night owl or an early bird?

Night owl, but I love being an early bird, so it just leads to even less sleep! 

6. Is there any feature or characteristic that you enjoy writing most in your OCs?

I enjoy writing flaws. I think characters are most valuable to me when no one has to like them. Or even that they shouldn't be liked. Not the main characters, not the people they encounter in the journey, or anyone. I love writers that can move me to care about the movement of the story and the journey of the character than selling me on making that character likable. 

7. Would you ever write an NSFW scene?

Yeah totally, I have before to a certain point but it wouldn't be a terrible leap. At least I don't think it would be. My goals is to at least write one book that some 34 year old person can enjoy in the romance section...and it will have a silly super sensual painted cover and maybe some kids will kind it and make fun of it. Idk sounds like a good time to me ^u^ 

8. What age group are you most interested in writing for?

I love 9 to 15! 

9. If you could do one thing with your writing, what would it be? Inspire someone to travel, make someone cry with laughter, etc.

I would love for people to be able to empathize with the pages and let their hearts open when they crack the spine. Because you can be completely honest with a book and if it moves you or makes you angry no one is there to judge you or tell you your wrong and you are just allowed to feel. I hope my writing is a warm evening for someone on a dark rainy day and I hope they are happy with themselves. 

10. Do you like writing in big stretches or little chunks?

I haven’t written in so long, i wrote every day all of middle school and then the start of high school. Since I got busy and had to leave that behind my writing quality and speed has decreased a lot. So now I'm hoping i can get back up and learn new things! 

So right now its just little chunks!

11. What’s your favourite season?

Autumn!

thank you  @lillayalightfoot! (sorry it took so long!)

[shona-sims-blog]

Other Side of the Game (An Urban Sims Story)

Part Eighteen || Candace

 The photo shoot had gone much better than I initially anticipated, since it was only my third biggest shoot after all. As quickly as they arose my nerves evaporated when I started to pose in front of the photographers flashing camera.

 I had loved taking pictures ever since I was a child, back when I took my very first headshots for my pageant portfolio. The clothes I modeled today were provided to us by a high end department store. The company had chosen the iconic Goth Memorial Park for the set location. When the photographer had finished with me and the other models, some of us hung around trying to network, chatted with old friends, but most had left in cabs or limos provided to them by their agency. I was waiting for Beatrix, she and I both modeled for the same company so our manager had suggested we carpool.

   “Candace, how would you like to go for drinks?” I was flattered by her invitation to say the least. Beatrix had signed her contract at the same I had, but she was already doing runway work and big wigs at our agency started to buzzing about her possibly gracing the cat walk for top designers at this year’s Bridgeport Fashion Week.

    “You want to go out with... Me?” I probed, suddenly wishing I didn’t when I noticed the humor rise in her eyes. She was serious.

    “Of course you - silly,” Her velvety Bridgeport accent added heavy emphasis on certain vowels. She laughed and smiled indulgently. “I know an old place on this side of town that plays jazz music and serves good drinks for cheap. “So, how about it?”

  “I’d love to! Thank you, let’s go.” I responded enthusiastically and pointed towards the parking lot. She had a vintage looking two door car that was the color of baked beach sand. It smelled like cherry blossoms, cigar smoke, and old leather. She told me she inherited it when her father died.

   On the way the way to the jazz place we talked about the shoot, our hometowns, and careers. Beatrix was nicer and much more humble than I had expected her to be. I felt more relaxed around her by the time we made it to the bar. I had unexpectedly made a new friend.

  Beatrix had been right. The atmosphere of the place did have a sort of ‘hole-in-the-wall’ quality about it, but the sounds of jazz and friendly locals made you feel welcome - as if you’d long been a regular patron.

   The drinks weren’t too bad either.

   “Excuse me, aren’t you the girl from the ‘If Hurt Call Kirk’ build-boards?” An inquiring voice questioned behind me. I felt my cheeks flush; it was the first time I’d ever been recognized in public. From an advertisement for a car accident hotline at that.  

    “Yes, that’s me.” I said hesitantly, unsure of what the woman would say next.

“Oh wow! I pass it every day in traffic on my way to work,” The bubbly brunette then complimented me between long sips of her drink. “You have such a pretty face.” I wondered how much coverage my foundation had, because now I was blushing profusely. I hoped I didn’t look like a tomato.

    “Isn’t she?” Beatrix chimed in, locking her slanted eyes with mine.

“That’s kind of you to say. Thank you ladies,” I said in gratitude, I was flattered. Beatrix nodded. Is this how celebrities felt? Here I was with the top model at our agency and I was actually the one being noticed by a stranger. Was I being pranked?

  “Well, if you ever want to do any work for a real attorney then I’d like to see you on one of my build boards.” A middle-aged man sitting at the end of the bar joined our conversation. “Maybe even a television advert.” He added.

   “What she did for Kirk was real work,” Beatrix defended on my behalf. The advertisement for Kirk wasn’t my best work, but the check paid my rent for four months and gave me a lot of exposure. I was still proud of it.

  “Oh, my apologies.” He said and continued in a different tone. “I meant no offense to either of you, I’m just taking a jab at the competition,” He smiled and suddenly is face looked more familiar. “My name is Winston St. Pierre. I’m a personal injury attorney myself.” I’d seen him on television! That’s where I had recognized him from. He was a successful attorney; everyone knew him or at least his face.

  “I see, well none taken.” She said smoothly. “I’m Beatrix Moriyama and this beauty here is Candace...” Her head swiveled in my direction and both of their eyes adjusted on me waiting for me to finish the introduction Beatrix had started.

    “Candace, Grace... Bjergsen.” I said proudly and a more than a few eyes turned out way. My family’s last name was attached to more fame than everyone in this room combined.

  “Like Bjorn Bjergsen?” Winston asked seeming impressed and I nodded bashfully. Beatrix turned to look at Winston now.

  “That’s my father.” I acknowledged. My dad was a well-known and successful musician in his own right. However, I had been the first one in my family to pursue a career in modeling. So my last name did hold prestige, but in the industry I was in your parents Grammy’s didn’t matter. Music was a planet away from the fashion world. The little success that I had earned was due to my own merit.

 Winston looked fascinated and so did a few people in the bar. Once we passed him our agents’ business card, he informed us that he’d have someone reach out to us to do business.

  I bit into another tasty olive; I was now full of the little black spheres and started to feel the alcohol take effect. I looked down at my vibrating phone and it was a message alert from Griffey.

    Griffey: I didn’t get enuff. I want more of u :(

   I almost choked while attempting to swallow. But Beatrix’s laughter drowned out the sound of me clearing my throat and coughing. Winston seemed to almost have her in tears, he was either quite the comedian or she was easily humored. I squirmed in my seat in an attempt to ignore the slight moisture drawing out between my legs at the thought of Griffey’s kisses and long strokes.

   I said goodbye to Winston and thanked Beatrix for the good time I hadn’t planned on having with her. We took a selfie together and promised to do it again once we exchanged numbers.

   Griffey texted me again and I quickly responded to his message. I told him where I was and he responded by saying he was in the area and would be arriving soon.

  It wasn’t long before his powder blue sports car pulled up to where I was. Maybe it was the alcohol, but when I got in the car with him my entire body warmed. If I had time to crack the window, I would have.

   He could barely keep his hands on the steering wheel during the ride to his place. I don’t know how we made it across the bridge to his side of town without crashing.

   He had bent my will to stay composed with just the tips of his fingers. He knew just were to touch and how fast to rub. The look of satisfaction on his face told me he enjoyed playing with my sweet spot and coaxing moans from me just as much as I liked him to. When we finally made it up to his apartment, I immediately went out to get some air on balcony - I needed to cool off. Every part of my body that he’d touched was burning. I waited while he went to take a leak.

    I peered across the street directly into the gold eyes staring back to me.

    They belonged to the super model named Aditi Lambda. She was on the cover of every magazine, from high fashion to home and garden. She had even co-starred in a few blockbusters.

  One day I wanted to be as successful as she was, but I knew it took hard work and dedication. Which meant no distractions, but Griffey was my guilty pleasure. I always came when he called. And I didn’t plan of giving that up any time soon... even if what we had wasn’t as serious to him as it was to me. He liked me for me, not because of who my father was. I smiled to myself at the thought, finally feeling my body cool down from the fire Griffey had set upon me on our climatic trip here.

  “Care for some company?” If it wasn’t for the spicy, but soft scent of his manly cologne his presence would have otherwise startled me. He was as sneaky as a cat; I hadn’t even heard him join me on the small balcony.

  “Only if it’s yours,” I whispered as he fingers traced my elbow. “So, yes.” I couldn’t deny him of anything.

   “Do you care for something more than company?” He questioned and took a step to face me. He gripped the back of my thighs and lifted me off the ground. My legs gripped onto his strong body wrapped themselves around his middle.

   Instead of responding verbally, I answered by gluttonously kissing his lips. I needed him just as much as he wanted me. His hands cupped my rear and squeezed firmly. I moaned and allowed my legs to drop, planting my feet on the ground.

 “What is it?” He requested, his dark eyes were hooded and filled with lust.

 “Nothing, I just want a piggy back ride first.” I don’t know if it was the liquor or the urge to tease him, but I suddenly felt playful. He didn’t look amused, but complied with my request. I climbed onto his back and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my breast firmly to his back.

  “Are you drunk?” He asked arching his brow.

“Maybe,” I responded, unsure if I was myself. I was definitely tipsy. “Doesn’t matter babe, I want you.” I said kissing the skin of his cheek that wasn’t covered by his beard.

   “That makes two of us. And you’re going to get every inch of me too.” And oh… how I intended to. I licked his earlobe as he holstered me up higher on his back, getting ready to carry me to the inside of the bedroom I had become all too familiar with. I couldn’t wait.

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[emmaswordcompany-blog]

Want to be a Proofreader? All You Need to Know.

Today’s post is all about proofreading! I am going to jump right in. Let’s get started!

You need to have an interest in the written word. This is a big one. If you don’t have an interest in the written word, in any form, whether it be reading, writing, proofreading and so on, then this is not the job for you. If you don’t enjoy correcting mistakes, then proofreading in particular is not the job for you.

You need to be able to spelll. See what I did there? Did you spot that? If so, go you! If not, that’s okay – don’t give up just yet. Try some spelling tests, and if you still don’t spot mistakes – then proofreading may not be the job for you. Try reading and reviewing books instead, if that’s something you enjoy.

You need to enjoy reading. If reading, or even the thought of reading bores you, this is not the job for you.

You need to decide what you want to proofread. Books, blog posts, newspaper articles (the list goes on). There are tonnes of options. Do some research on Audiobook proofing too. Audiobook proofing is listening to an audiobook file, and reading along with the manuscript while listening to the narration to make sure there are no mistakes. Such as: has the narrator pronounced something incorrectly? Has the narrator added or missed any words/sections? Did they stumble while reading? The narrator may not pick up on their own errors, so having someone else look at it. You can work with the author, or directly with the narrator. The author will decide.

You need to have impeccable attention to detail. Whether you are the frist (see what I did there?) person to look at the draft of a manuscript, or the second, you need to have impeccable attention to detail. You cannot miss a thing. How do you know if you have impeccable attention to detail? I have planted little errors throughout this blog post to give you an idea (I have made notes after the fact to tell you). If you haven’t picked up on any so far, then you have an idea of your attention to detail. Always remember, whatever you’re proofreading, it’s not just your business you’re representing, and your reputation for what you do, this reflects the author as well. Readers can be quick to point out errors, and the authors work can even sometimes lose stars on reviews because of it.

You need to have something in you that shudders when you see errors. Th followig sentense, is so complety wronge in so; manny ways taht if proofreading is for u then u feel uncomfortabel even readig this right now… You’re squirming aren’t you? How did that make you feel? Then that’s your answer to whether you should be a proofreader or not. You’re welcome!

You need a space to completely focus, so you won’t miss any errors. This one is crucial. Those without kids, turn off the TV, don’t work near any construction sites if possible, and find a peaceful and quiet spot in or outdoors. For the parents, being a mum, I know the noise that comes with kids. Screaming from excitement because Bananas In Pyjamas is on the TV or my baby squealing while playing with his favourite toys, these kinds of distractions while trying to proofread will end in a disappointed client. I know what you’re thinking… what the hells bells am I meant do? Just ignore them? Of course not. If you can, and I know this one is tough, but if you can get the kids to nap at the same time, this is a perfect time to proofread. Another one to try is childcare, but with the cost of childcare these days it may not be an option. If it is, and you can, go for it! Don’t feel mum/dad guilt about your little ones watching TV either… it is a life saver for me. I am not saying all day but allowing them watch it so you can work is okay if you are okay with it! You could also ask a friend, or a grandparent to come and babysit. If you have older children who can entertain themselves, don’t have any kids or they have left the nest, then go ahead and grab some coffee or tea, have a sit down, and proof proof proof!

You need to have patients. I did it again! Have you been on the look out for more errors? I hope so. If you missed this one, maybe it’s time to try some spelling tests which can help you with spotting errors in the future (this one on Merriam-Webster I really like. Give it a go). Patience is an important one, especially if you’re proofreading a large manuscript (depending on the size of the manuscript it can weeks, the time varies, but safe to say it won’t be done in a short time). Sometimes you can come across something you are proofreading that has so many errors, you can barely read it. Patience is a must with this as well.

You don’t need any formal qualifications. You don’t actually need to have completed any course to be a proofreader. It could benefit you in some ways, as some clients do prefer to see some formal qualifications, but most people will go by your proven skills. If you work for a newspaper, or magazine they may prefer you have some formal qualifications. If you show them your history of proofreading, they give you a go and see your talent – then the fact you don’t have any formal qualifications wouldn’t be important, would it? But that’s not up to me to decide! I’ve completed a Certificate in Professional Editing and Proofreading via Australian College of Journalism (before I had my boys) and I really enjoyed it. I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I then built on that by jumping right into it, learning a lot by completing proofreading jobs for different clients. In my opinion, if you’re good at fixing errors, and you have a great eye for detail then take on proofreading jobs, build a portfolio, show how good you are at it then spread the word.

You need to know how to use Track Changes in Microsoft Word. It would be easy for someone to accept some work to complete, say they did it, send it back to their client, accept the money and disappear. This is one sad scenario. A rare scenario, but one of the examples as to why Track Changes is great for both ends. On the proofreaders end it shows the hard work they’ve put in and for the clients side of things, they can see the errors that have been corrected, and the comments that have been made. The author can then go through it and accept or decline any changes. Track Changes is something you need to use with every job, in my opinion. Some authors might contact you and say, “I trust you, don’t bother with Track Changes, just go ahead and fix it” … and that’s up to the author. Don’t know how to use Track Changes? Find a Microsoft tutorial here.

Freelance, or work the 9-5? There are benefits to both. Freelance: you work when you want, where you want, and you choose the jobs you want (depending on your schedule, current circumstances, workload and so on) but you aren’t always guaranteed the same paycheck every time. The 9-5: you’re always guaranteed a paycheck (unless you do something horrible wrong and get fired), but you are stuck to the same hours, every day, and sometimes with little flexibility depending on your boss. This is the part that is completely up to you. I love being a freelancer, as I can work for myself, from home with the kids, in my own office space and I work directly with authors. One other point I would like to make as to why I love being a freelancer, is you can generally offer much lower fees than what the bigger business can.

Some tips from me:

1. Offer your services for free or a discounted price. This might seem silly, given I have been talking about making this your living. But hear me out, you can find places where people offer their proofreading services for a discounted rate, and sometimes even for free. Goodreads is one of the best places, as an example. Have a look at this link, there are all sorts of proofreading discussions – including writers looking for proofreaders, be it free or discounted and there are other proofreaders offering their services. Why would I do this? Well, maybe you want to do some proofreading to add to your profile, maybe you want to help out some authors and do this for them free of charge (getting a book ready to release, everything from book covers, to complete edits, to marketing can really add up!) then that way you can show those authors how great you are at your job and also be doing them a favour. I say, in this world, if you can help someone, then do it! Always.

2. Be kind. This is a big one. Writers, me being one of them and knowing many of them, work on their books, they live these books, they breathe these books, this is their hard work, their ‘baby’. So one of the most important things is to be kind. Let’s say you are having difficulty reading a sentence, no matter how hard you try you just don’t understand it, it doesn’t read quite right. So, you aren’t just going to leave it and move on right? Of course not! A true proofreader would lose sleep over leaving such things. So, you make a comment. Would you say ‘I can’t read this. Fix it.’ Uh. No. If you aren’t understanding something, I suggest something like, ‘this sentence didn’t read quite right, suggest some tweaking.’ This is much nicer, and you won’t leave your clients feeling like you are horrible to deal with and not want to return.

3. Build a relationship with your clients. Your clients are people too, not just clients, remember that! In some business settings we feel like we have to keep up some sort of wall, but it’s okay to get to know your clients. Check in with them, and their families, and how their writing is going. Following and connecting with them via social media. I feel like reading someones manuscripts and blog posts, you get to know them through what they write, and this is such a great chance to make some great and even long lasting connections. Now, I’m not saying tell them your deepest darkest, because, we still need to be professional, but develop a nice rapport with them, and make sure you support them in their writing endeavours because who doesn’t love supporting others reach their goals?

4. Be confident in your skills. Being confident in your ability to be an amazing proofreader will help you when it comes to marketing yourself, sending quotes, sending invoices after completing a job, contacting authors you’d like to work with, posting to your socials and so on. It can be hard when you’re starting out and realize how many other proofreaders there are offering their services, but don’t let that scare you. You all have a love for the same thing, now go out there and connect with some authors and share your talent with them. Enjoy reading some amazing books in the process.

5. Read over your work before submitting. Allow enough time when you quote your client to allow you to read over the manuscript/blog post once more. It’s a little trick I have to make sure that I haven’t missed anything. Of course, mistakes happen, and that’s why we have a backup like this. If you have the time, take a small break from proofreading (even just a couple of hours) before going to read it again. Then your mind will be fresh. Sometimes if you look at something too much, you will miss the errors that may still be there. A little tip that works for me.

7. Put yourself out there – everywhere! This is a big one. You need to be places where potential writers can find you to be their proofreader. Social media, when used correctly, is an amazing way to put yourself out there and connect with others. From Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to Linkedin, Goodreads, WordPress, Tumblr, Pinterest and more. Go ahead and sign up to as many as you can and spread the word. Remember, there are many different jobs you can do that involve the written word. You aren’t limited to proofreading. But if you think you’ll love it, and be great at it, then go ahead and get started! Emma xx

[momscookingthebooks]

Eleven authors. Eleven Novellas. This is one thick . . . book.

Christmas just became a whole lot merrier...

TEAM PLAYER, A Christmas Anthology featuring titles by LJ Shen, Kennedy Ryan, Adriana Locke, Mandi Beck, Emma Scott, Charleigh Rose, Ella Fox, Sara Ney, Meghan Quinn, Kate Stewart and Rochelle Paige releases December 14th!

Publication Date: December 14th, 2017 Genre: Contemporary/Sports Romance

Cover Designer: Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Add to your Goodreads TBR: http://bit.ly/2iVSpFW

Meet the Authors:

 LJ Shen

L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.

Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.

She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.

Connect with LJ Shen

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorljshen/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lj_shen

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorljshen/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorljshen/

Stay up to date with LJ Shen by signing up for her mailing list:

http://bit.ly/2umcYPg

Website: http://www.authorljshen.com/

Kennedy Ryan:

Kennedy Ryan is a Southern girl gone Southern California. A Top 100 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy writes romance about remarkable women who find a way to thrive even in tough times, the love they find, and the men who cherish them.

She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Georgia families living with Autism, Kennedy has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other outlets as a voice for families living with autism.

Connect with Kennedy

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kennedyrwrites

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kennedyryan1/

Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KennedyRyanAuthor

YouTube: http://bit.ly/2gsAGkp

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2x0qCtC

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kennedy-ryan

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/681604768593989/

Website: http://kennedyryanwrites.com

Adriana Locke:

A contemporary romance author running on coffee and sticky kisses from my rowdy four little boys.

From Indiana, I’m a true Mid-Westerner. Life, for me, is about family, faith, and food. When I’m not running my kiddos around or having a lunch date of fajitas with my husband (and high school sweetheart), you can find me outside. I love a good sunny day almost as much as I love candy, random quotes, and steamy bad boys in fantastic books.

I’m on nearly every social media platform. Please find me on the ones you frequent – I love chatting with readers.

Connect with Adriana

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoradrianalocke

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authoralocke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoradrianalocke/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/adriana-locke

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8379774.Adriana_Locke

Amazon Alerts: http://adrianalocke.com/release-day-notifications/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authoradrianalo/

Website: http://adrianalocke.com

Mandi Beck:

Mandi Beck has been an avid reader all of her life. A deep love for books always had her jotting down little stories on napkins, notebooks, and her hand. As an adult she was further submerged into the book world through book clubs and the epicness of social media. It was then that she graduated to writing her stories on her phone and then finally on a proper computer.

A nursing student, mother to two rambunctious and somewhat rotten boys, and stepmom to two great girls away at college, she shares her time with her husband in Chicago where she was born and raised. Mandi is a diehard hockey fan and blames the Blackhawks when her deadlines are not met.

Connect with Mandi

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormandibeck

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authormandibeck

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authormandi/

Newsletter: https://www.authormandibeck.com/newsletter

Website: https://www.authormandibeck.com

Emma Scott:

I write romances with flawed characters, characters with artistic hearts: builders, poets, and writers of various makes and models. I love to write book lovers; those who have found refuge, companionship, and escape in books, much as we do in real life. I like realism, honesty, authenticity in storytelling. I love to write about enduring love, soul-deep love, in as real a setting as I can make, but with big smooshy HEAs. I believe in diversity, open-mindedness, and inclusion. I like sweetness mixed with steam, love conquering all, and above all, hope. Love always wins.

Connect with Emma

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmmaScottwrites/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10405165.Emma_Scott

Blog: http://emmascottblog.blogspot.com

Charleigh Rose:

We are a duo of an international best-selling author and a blogger who teamed up to write the taboo, thought-provoking stories we want our audience to have--without filters.

Both Charleigh and Rose are committed to giving you witty, sexy, intelligent novels that will leave you wanting more.

Connect with Charleigh

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charleighroseprose/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15569269.Charleigh_Rose?from_search=true

Ella Fox:

When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.

Connect with Ella

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EllaFoxAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorellafox

Website: http://www.authorellafox.com

Sara Ney:

Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.

Connect with Sara

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/saraneyauthor/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2Ay8lT2

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/saraneyauthor/

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2g32hJO

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/saraneyauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SaraNey

Website: http://authorsaraney.com

Meghan Quinn:

A BLONDE AT HEART

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

​Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Connect with Meghan

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormeghanquinn/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2_j4HJ91yQLxZ0EC4p2PEA

YouTube: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Kate Stewart:

Kate Stewart lives in Charleston, S.C. with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. A native of Dallas, Kate moved to Charleston three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, and declaring it her creative muse. Kate pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it's what she loves as a reader. A lover of all things '80s and '90s, especially John Hughes films and rap, she dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity only and does a horrible job of playing the ukulele. Aside from running a mile without collapsing, traveling is the only other must on her bucket list. On occasion, she does very well at vodka.

Connect with Kate

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkatestewart/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorklstewart

Website: http://www.katestewartwrites.com

Rochelle Paige:

Rochelle Paige is the Amazon bestselling author of nineteen books. She absolutely adores reading and her friends growing up used to tease her when she trailed after them, trying to read and walk at the same time. She loves stories with alpha males, sassy heroines, hot sex and happily ever afters. She is a bit of a genre hopper in both her reading and her writing. So far she's written books in several romance sub-genres including new adult, contemporary, paranormal and romantic suspense.

She is the mother of two wonderful sons who inspired her to chase her dream of being an author. She wants them to learn from her that you can live your dream as long as you are willing to work for it.

Connect with Rochelle

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rochellepaigeauthor/

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1436132763270558/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2n6RkMX

Website: http://www.rochellepaige.com/home

[readloveeatrepeat]

Eleven authors. Eleven Novellas. This is one thick . . . book.

Christmas just became a whole lot merrier...

TEAM PLAYER, A Christmas Anthology featuring titles by LJ Shen, Kennedy Ryan, Adriana Locke, Mandi Beck, Emma Scott, Charleigh Rose, Ella Fox, Sara Ney, Meghan Quinn, Kate Stewart and Rochelle Paige releases December 14th!

Publication Date: December 14th, 2017 Genre: Contemporary/Sports Romance

Cover Designer: Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2iVSpFW

Meet the authors:

LJ Shen

L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat. Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards. She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.

Connect with LJ Shen

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorljshen/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lj_shen

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorljshen/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorljshen/

Stay up to date with LJ Shen by signing up for her mailing list:

http://bit.ly/2umcYPg

http://www.authorljshen.com/

Kennedy Ryan:

Kennedy Ryan is a Southern girl gone Southern California. A Top 100 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy writes romance about remarkable women who find a way to thrive even in tough times, the love they find, and the men who cherish them. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Georgia families living with Autism, Kennedy has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other outlets as a voice for families living with autism.

Connect with Kennedy

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kennedyrwrites

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kennedyryan1/

Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+KennedyRyanAuthor

YouTube: http://bit.ly/2gsAGkp

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2x0qCtC

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kennedy-ryan

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/681604768593989/

http://kennedyryanwrites.com

Adriana Locke:

A contemporary romance author running on coffee and sticky kisses from my rowdy four little boys. From Indiana, I’m a true Mid-Westerner. Life, for me, is about family, faith, and food. When I’m not running my kiddos around or having a lunch date of fajitas with my husband (and high school sweetheart), you can find me outside. I love a good sunny day almost as much as I love candy, random quotes, and steamy bad boys in fantastic books. I’m on nearly every social media platform. Please find me on the ones you frequent – I love chatting with readers.

Connect with Adriana

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoradrianalocke

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authoralocke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoradrianalocke/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/adriana-locke

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8379774.Adriana_Locke

Amazon Alerts: http://adrianalocke.com/release-day-notifications/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authoradrianalo/

http://adrianalocke.com

Mandi Beck:

Mandi Beck has been an avid reader all of her life. A deep love for books always had her jotting down little stories on napkins, notebooks, and her hand. As an adult she was further submerged into the book world through book clubs and the epicness of social media. It was then that she graduated to writing her stories on her phone and then finally on a proper computer. A nursing student, mother to two rambunctious and somewhat rotten boys, and stepmom to two great girls away at college, she shares her time with her husband in Chicago where she was born and raised. Mandi is a diehard hockey fan and blames the Blackhawks when her deadlines are not met.

Connect with Mandi

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormandibeck

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authormandibeck

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authormandi/

Newsletter: https://www.authormandibeck.com/newsletter

https://www.authormandibeck.com

Emma Scott:

I write romances with flawed characters, characters with artistic hearts: builders, poets, and writers of various makes and models. I love to write book lovers; those who have found refuge, companionship, and escape in books, much as we do in real life. I like realism, honesty, authenticity in storytelling. I love to write about enduring love, soul-deep love, in as real a setting as I can make, but with big smooshy HEAs. I believe in diversity, open-mindedness, and inclusion. I like sweetness mixed with steam, love conquering all, and above all, hope. Love always wins.

Connect with Emma

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmmaScottwrites/

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10405165.Emma_Scott

Blog: http://emmascottblog.blogspot.com

Charleigh Rose:

We are a duo of an international best-selling author and a blogger who teamed up to write the taboo, thought-provoking stories we want our audience to have--without filters. Both Charleigh and Rose are committed to giving you witty, sexy, intelligent novels that will leave you wanting more.

Connect with Charleigh

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charleighroseprose/

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15569269.Charleigh_Rose?from_search=true

Ella Fox:

When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.

Connect with Ella

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EllaFoxAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorellafox

http://www.authorellafox.com

Sara Ney:

Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.

Connect with Sara

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/saraneyauthor/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2Ay8lT2

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/saraneyauthor/

GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2g32hJO

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/saraneyauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SaraNey

http://authorsaraney.com

Meghan Quinn:

A BLONDE AT HEART Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped. Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking. Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Connect with Meghan

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormeghanquinn/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2_j4HJ91yQLxZ0EC4p2PEA

YouTube: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Kate Stewart:

Kate Stewart lives in Charleston, S.C. with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. A native of Dallas, Kate moved to Charleston three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, and declaring it her creative muse. Kate pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it's what she loves as a reader. A lover of all things '80s and '90s, especially John Hughes films and rap, she dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity only and does a horrible job of playing the ukulele. Aside from running a mile without collapsing, traveling is the only other must on her bucket list. On occasion, she does very well at vodka.

Connect with Kate

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkatestewart/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorklstewart

http://www.katestewartwrites.com

Rochelle Paige:

Rochelle Paige is the Amazon bestselling author of nineteen books. She absolutely adores reading and her friends growing up used to tease her when she trailed after them, trying to read and walk at the same time. She loves stories with alpha males, sassy heroines, hot sex and happily ever afters. She is a bit of a genre hopper in both her reading and her writing. So far she's written books in several romance sub-genres including new adult, contemporary, paranormal and romantic suspense. She is the mother of two wonderful sons who inspired her to chase her dream of being an author. She wants them to learn from her that you can live your dream as long as you are willing to work for it.

Connect with Rochelle

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rochellepaigeauthor/

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1436132763270558/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2n6RkMX

http://www.rochellepaige.com/home