Strung Along by Hannah Cowan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Hannah Cowan
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.6 MB
- Price: Free
ANNALISE
THERE ARE FEW THINGS I HATE IN THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS A THONG.
Between the string trying to crawl inside of me with every shift of my
thighs and the perpetual feeling of having a wedgie, I’m usually stuffing
any I’ve been peer pressured into buying into the back of my drawer. Panty
lines? I embrace them. They’re better than having my butt cheeks flossed.
If it weren’t for the birthday surprise I suspect Stewart is planning for
me tonight, I would have slipped on my favourite pair of 100 percent cotton
briefs instead of the red thong with the tag still attached. His favourite dress
of mine is a tight, silky thing from one of my favourite boutiques that
doesn’t allow for underwear. Not the visible kind. It will be worth the pain,
though. I know it will be.
I smooth my hands down my generous hips and dart my eyes to where
my phone lies on the bed. For the third time in the past couple of minutes,
the screen is dark, no new messages waiting for me. Like every time before,
I brush it off. Stewart didn’t have to tell me that he’s planning anything for
me to know he is.
We’ve been dating for three years, engaged and living together for just
over two of them. He’s always done something grand for my birthday. His
giving soul is one of the things I love most about him. The incredibly
successful, classically handsome man I met after one of my sister’s animal
shelter fundraisers turned a girl against marriage into one who didn’t
hesitate to say yes when he dropped to one knee at our special spot—the
Oak Bay Marina in Vancouver—and asked me to be his wife.
Every year since, we’ve celebrated my birthday with a big party on his
company’s yacht despite the slight chill of October in Vancouver. Last year,
he hired a string quartet to play me a collection of my favourite songs. I’ve
tried not to let my expectations for this year fly too high, but I’m only
human.
With a final brush of my fingers through my pin-straight hair, I nod and
spin to grab my phone. A swipe across the screen tells me there still aren’t
any new messages. But after a quick look at our shared location, I know
he’s at the marina, most likely so busy finalizing everything that he forgot
to tell me when I should be there. I figured six o’clock was a safe bet since
that’s when the party was last year. My sister’s lack of response to my text
asking when she was told to arrive only confirms that she must already be
on her way.
It takes half an hour to get to the marina from our high-rise condo, but
the drive is easy. The long walk from the parking lot to the docks is the
more tedious part, especially in these wedges. My deep red nail-polished
toes wink at me when I step out of the car and into the setting sun’s light.
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