Is Lobotomy: Surviving The Ramones Worth Reading?

Bikers and good girls don't mix. Cage was a bad boy biker. Tattoos and muscles he's every girl's dream, including Addie's. Addie was a good girl. Raised to be quiet, don't talk back, never hang with the wrong people. Date only those her parents approved. She was completely bored and just existing. That wasn't the case when she'd see him. The boy in the biker club. She'd see him around town and fantasize about how her life would be different if she was with someone like him. However he didn't even acknowledge her existence, or so she thought. Cage noticed the gorgeous innocent good girl. Her kind could never survive in his world. He was living proof of that. It took a bet from his brothers in the club to get him to meet her. When he did, he knew he was in trouble of falling hard for the good girl. Could she exist in both the world she's known her whole life and his life? Or would she have to choose? Neither knew what this encounter would bring about. Secrets buried for years, second chance love, and all the club drama you can handle. Some betrayals were meant to protect her. How will she handle learning who her real father is? Will she be able to forgive them? Will she find the true her? And if she does, will she give them another chance or walk away? Her whole world falls apart, only to get put back together totally different than she ever imagined. Her real father never got over her mother. Will they get back together or will his current woman destroy any chance they have? Look for upsets, betrayal, rejections, and more. Come hell or high water Addie will get her Happily Ever After!

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

Vice and Victor have a plan. Five years in the spotlight to make their fortune, then move into the background, with their own record label. Fast and smart is their motto. Romance will have to wait, especially since their idea of an ideal romance, involves both of them and one woman. When their manager, Aaron, asks them to collaborate with a chart-topping popstar who wants to gravitate into rock, they are dubious. A frequent flyer in the gossip columns over the last twelve months with a history of drug and alcohol problems, they fear she will be difficult and volatile to work with. After being roofied by her music producer, Mirage has learnt the hard way that it is not an equal world. Without proof, she cannot pursue legal recourse, and she is locked into completing another album with her rapist. Meanwhile, Mr Rich has been feeding the industry lies about her having dependency on alcohol and drugs, and the gossip mags have seized upon the stories, slowly tearing her professional reputation into pieces. But Mirage is not a fragile damsel in distress, she is a pop-rock chick, and she is fighting back.

On the day I'm diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, my dad suddenly gains the ability to hear people's inner thoughts. My stepmother, Pauline Barton, scolds inwardly, "Why isn't this old fool dead yet?" But what my dad hears is, "Honey, I'd gladly trade ten years of my life for your health." I kneel before him and beg him to take me to the hospital. In my heart, I'm crying, "Dad, please save me. I'm in so much pain." But what he hears is, "Hurry up and give me some money, old man. I want to buy the latest designer bag." So, he dotes on Pauline while throwing me, who is gravely ill, into a dog cage without food or water. Pointing at me, he snarls, "How can you be so vicious? I can't believe you want me dead!" Curled up in agony, I sob as I try to explain. However, all I get in return are even harsher beatings and insults. The moment I die, his ability finally starts working properly. My soul drifts above as I watch him hold Pauline and weep. But inside, she's laughing hysterically. "They're finally all dead. Now the entire family fortune is mine." This time, Dad hears every single word, loud and clear.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.