How is a person supposed to come to terms with these facts?
Fact 1: My parents aren’t upstanding citizens (kind of learned that one at an early age) Fact 2: The same two people who gave me life are the same people I, not too long ago, watched slice up two of my high school peers. (Great! Serial killers on top of idiotic thieves.)
Oh, and that’s just the starter. What comes next makes those things seem like child’s play or having a cotton candy treat at a damn fair.
Destiny? Fate? I’d like to give those bitches a swift kick in the teeth. Kincaid Peterson has his work cut out for him if I’m the one he wants to spend his time with.
💞.❁.•°*”˜˜”*°•.❁.💞.❁.•°*”˜˜”*°•.❁.💞 💞*°•❁°*💞Whiskey’s One True Wish: A Whiskey Sweet Novel 💞*°❁•°*💞 💞.❁.•°*”˜˜”*°•.❁.💞.❁.•°*”˜˜”*°•.❁.💞
By Kelsey Elise Sparrow
Best friends. That’s what we are. At least, that’s what we were. One night changed our worlds forever. One night that turned into two days—two of the best days of my life. On the third morning, he was gone. I was heartbroken, but I didn’t know how to tell him.
Now, he’s engaged to be married and doesn’t know how I feel. Never thought a bottle of my namesake could cause me this much trouble.
I am supposed to be getting married. The problem is, I can’t seem to stop wondering why my best friend and “best man,” Whiskey, isn’t standing right here with me. I need her to tell me I’m doing the right thing because I’m starting to have doubts.
I can’t stop thinking about those two nights we shared. We laughed and made jokes about how everyone said we’d end up together. At the time, we felt it was a crazy notion.
Now, I’m thinking maybe they knew something we didn’t. Maybe we dismissed the possibility far too soon.
What I’m certain of is I need to know everything before I make the biggest mistake of my life
This coloring book, featuring 93 designs inspired by your favorite authors, bloggers & Editors, will release on March 15th. All proceeds will benefit RAINN which is the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization.
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Lipstick kisses and caviar dreams don’t have a place in my life or his.
~ Max (Rebecca Robbins)
I’m a bad ass bitch. It’s a truth of mine. I live it and breathe that shit. No, I’m not conceited or full of myself. It’s just something I’ve discovered over the years.
I’m damn good by myself, always have been, always will. What I didn’t know is I can be improved upon.
Enter the equally bad ass and hella charismatic Deckard Camden. Who, the hell, told him to be this jaw-droppingly gorgeous, mountain of a man, in comparison to my little self, projecting a wall of defense that rivals my own?
Nobody prepared me for the sensual words that would fall from his lips or the massive … peace he would bring to my life.
Damn sure didn’t get me ready to be Deckard Camden’s wife … wait what?
I’m a bad ass bitch! This isn’t one of those moments where I’m encouraging myself or attempting to infuse my soul with courage. The statement is fact. There’s n question about it. Most know me as Max. They wanted me to have a masculine name because I tend to steer clear of the frilly and pretty.
I’m a tattoo artist who doesn’t allow bullshitters in her shop. You’re fucked if you come around just to take in the eye candy. If you’re occupying space then you’re a fucking customer. Otherwise get the hell out of my shop. Inked to the Max isn’t a coffee shop, library, or any of those other cop-a-squat places.
I am a boss bad ass. It is who I am and what I exude. Living in Atlanta, Georgia. No, that’s a lie. I work in Atlanta. I live in Mableton. Parents live in Brookhaven. Grew up within the city limits and moved on to “greener pastures.”
When the shop was doing well enough for me to snub my parents, I got out of the house as quickly as possible. Their expectation was for me to do something with my nursing degree. I chose to use a different type of needle to become painfully employed. I could always fall back on the degree if times get hard with the shop. Not likely because I enjoy tattooing and piercing a little more than the average artist.
Yes, it is my bread and butter but taking an idea or thought and making it art is a magical thing. Taking that art and putting it on skin makes my nipples hard, I get so excited. Every tear of joy shed because the ink is something more than the “canvas” or client expected pretty much gets me off, since no one else is right now. I may need to rectify that crap soon.