Protector Cowboy by Khloe Summers EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Khloe Summers
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Genre: Romance Anthologies, Romance Collections & Anthologies
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
I’ve read every romance novel I can get my hands on. The long ones
with the angsty, drawn out love that takes forever and a day to establish. The
short ones with an instant attraction that seems too unreal to be true. And the
super toxic stories, where the couple fall for one another despite one partner’s
penchant for murder. They’re all good one way or the other, and I’ve related
to them all at different points in my life. The toxic stories, less. But still, the
happily ever after that infuses my blood with dopamine is enough to get me
through the week.
They’re addicting, though. You get a high from the characters love,
and when that wears off, your back like a junky, desperate for more. Wishing,
hoping, praying, that one night you’ll be lying in bed and a six-foot five
Prince Charming will break into your house, admit his terrible fondness for
robbery, and you’ll fall in love with his dark brown eyes, massive muscles,
and the giant cock that he can’t even hide through a pair of jeans.
My love story went a little differently. I have the one where the girl
misjudged a guy when she was naïve and doomed herself to a life of regret
and disappointment. I say doomed with a sense of self-loathing, because
that’s where I am right now.
Self-loathing, USA. It’s a cute little spot by the river where white and gray
ducks chase each other in a murky green pond. People gather round its edge
to contemplate their life choices. I give it… four out of five stars.
There’s the elderly man who sits slumped over the bench to the right of
an oak tree. His frame is hunched over as he tosses tiny pieces of bread to the
shameless ducks to rush out after. I bet he’s lost someone. I imagine he and
his wife came out to this same spot on Sundays. No, they went somewhere
nicer, like the lake. The lake up near Whiskey Falls. He can’t bear the
thought of returning, so he sits here now, reliving their sweet ritual to the
hum of strangers’ tears.
To my left is a woman. I’d guess she’s in her late forties. Her hair is tied
back in a loose bun and her gaze is set on the mountain range in the distance.
She couldn’t care less about me, or the ducks, or the pond, or anything else
going on around her. She’s focused on whatever’s in her head. Given enough
time, I could make up a story for her as well, but I see David in the distance,
and my stomach turns.
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