Stepbrother With Benefits: An Opposites Attract Romance (Mason Family Book 2) by Hazel Kelly

Author:Hazel Kelly [Kelly, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2020-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

T H I R T Y

- Brie -

When James asked me to go to the Halloween party, I told him I’d think about it. But that was before I realized Maddy and all his closest friends would be there. Not that I expected him to understand why that freaked me out.

After all, he blossomed in social situations so effortlessly it was impossible to imagine him making a bad impression. But I wasn’t like that. I couldn’t be a social butterfly with his friends the way he’d been with mine. He wouldn’t care, of course. He’d just want me to be myself. But even that was a struggle these days.

Because, as I’d so unceremoniously discovered, James Mason wasn’t my only weakness. I also had a weakness for seeking approval in the wrong places.

Professor Herstall had gone cold on me, and while I knew that was for the best, I found myself questioning whether he’d ever believed in me at all. Which was stupid. The guy was slime. Logically, I knew that. Emotionally, thinking of the way he’d put his hands on me made me want to walk to the bottom of Lake Michigan.

But there was a hole in me where his belief had been, where hope had been. As a result, I felt empty. Discarded. Lackluster. And the more he ignored me, the worse I felt.

I knew it was ridiculous. I should be happy he was ignoring me right back. Because I hated him. He made a laughing stock out of me and took advantage of my trust. He lied to my face, saying I had talent. Promise. And those lies went up in smoke the moment I realized his intentions were impure.

To add insult to injury, I hadn’t written a word since then. Not of my story, which stank all over from his red pen and his betrayal. Not a poem. Not even a fucking grocery list.

Because I felt empty. Like a fraud who only plays a writer on TV, my unfulfilled potential souring inside me like milk left in a swollen udder.

I didn’t know what to do. Before Professor Herstall, believing in myself had been enough to fuel my passion for writing. But it was easy then because my delusion had only been hinted at by faceless, impersonal rejection letters, which were easy enough to discount.

But this? This incident had provoked a crisis of faith so severe I wasn’t sure I’d survive it, wasn’t sure if I should. What if I was a talentless loser, and I couldn’t see it? What if I was blowing my pathetic paychecks on student loans I’d never be able to pay back?

What if my writing was merely an addiction, like the one my mom had to white wine for so long? Just a habit that helped me feel engaged in a world that actually found me tedious and annoying. Ugh.

Even worse, what if he got away with it? What if the next girl he tried that on didn’t grow up asking herself What

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