LOGINHey, guys! Just a tiny, sad little update, that’s all I could manage. But hey… something is better than nothing, right? I love you all so much, seriously. Thank you for being the absolute rockstars that you are and for understanding my chaotic, sleep-deprived self. And honestly… whenever one of you comments that I’ve ruined other books for you, I feel higher than any drug could ever get me. You guys are the sweetest, most dangerously awesome people I’ve ever met. X O X O 💋
"That woman..." she pointed at her without a shred of hesitation, "...should be ashamed of herself. If she wanted to help you, there were other ways. A decent woman would have taken you anywhere but here. Instead she surrounded you with this filth and expected you to believe it was a home." Denise
Hazel held her tightly, too tightly. As though letting go for even a second might mean losing her all over again. She buried her face against Gianna's hair. "You found me..." Gianna whispered through tears. Hazel couldn't answer. She only held her closer. Then, over Gianna's shoulder, Hazel lifted
Salvatore watched her, "Hazel." She didn't stop, "If there's even the smallest chance my daughter is there..." her hands shook as she pulled on her coat, "...then she's not spending another minute in that place." She was halfway to the door before Salvatore caught up beside her. "Hazel, we don't
She slipped off Denise's lap and crossed the room, wrapping one arm around the pole, she pushed lightly from the floor. Her body rose in one smooth motion. She curled around the pole like a ribbon caught in the wind, every movement precise, every line unmistakably shaped by years of ballet. For a
Gianna laughed, suddenly shy beneath all the attention, "It wasn't perfect." "Oh, listen to Miss Perfection." Denise pointed toward the chrome pole standing near the corner of the room, "What about that?" Gianna followed her finger, "The pole?" Tasha nodded, "You think you can climb it?" Gianna
Before she could react, Morgan gently pressed the black costume into her arms, "Wear it." Gianna stared, "...No." "Yes!" they all shouted in unison. Denise hid another smile behind her coffee. Gianna looked toward her for help, "Mama D?" Denise lifted both hands, "I've learned not to argue when
Gianna ━⊰ ❦ ⊱━ "Where were you last night?" My mom stood in the doorway. I didn't turn around immediately. I just kept my back to her, slowly setting my hairdryer down on the dresser. "What?" I asked, trying to keep my voice flat. She stepped into the room, crossing her arms tight over he
I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of the drug still stinging my throat. "I want you to give me your word that what happened last night stays between us," he rasped, a cruel smile pulling at his lips, "If a single word about last night reaches Claire, or Madeleine, or especially my Aunt Alessia.
Hey, guys! I’m currently fighting for my life in the real world. I haven’t written a single word, and I haven’t even been home for two days. Yes, I’m barely surviving, but unfortunately, not in a dramatic mafia way, just life being rude. So, before anyone burns their fingerprints off refreshing
I walked to the door, and opened it just a crack, then stepped into the gap, using my broad frame to block every single inch of the view behind me. Behind me, Gianna was a lump under the sheets, and if she so much as coughed, my life was over. It was Aunt Alessia. Even this late, she looked like







