Demons and Roses by Beka Westrup EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Beka Westrup
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy Romance eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.2 MB
- Price: Free
BE WARY OF RUNAWAY GOLF CARTS
My husband is almost always an evil fucking bastard, but most
especially when he’s golfing.
I lounge in the driver’s seat of the black golf cart, my feet
propped up on the dashboard, the edges of my white tennis skirt fluttering
in the breeze. The material is so sheer, you can see the lace of my
underwear through the shorts. I hate it, but there’s a dress code for the club.
Plus, my husband likes it when all the wrinkly, rich men at the club admire
my legs. He likes being reminded that he has something others want, even if
that something is me.
I’m wearing the designer sunglasses he shoved into my hands this
morning, and I haven’t complained once, even though they tint the world an
irritating shade of yellow.
The sun beats down on the plastic top of the cart, its heat trickling
around me like rain. I wish it was real rain.
It’s an unexpectedly bright and warm fall Saturday in Boston, and my
chest is damp with sweat. My dark hair slides forward in frizzy clumps
thanks to the humidity.
On days like this, I long for winter. I long for thick sweaters and tights,
for holiday travel and a blessed reprieve from these dull visits to the club. If
it was up to me, I’d spend all autumn visiting the nearby farms, picking
pumpkins and apples, exploring corn mazes and the best haunts in our state,
of which there are plenty.
But it’s not up to me.
“Rose.”
I sigh, lowering my book to glower over top the wrinkled pages.
The romance in my current read is finally heating up, so I don’t
appreciate the interruption. I don’t appreciate my husband’s presence at all,
really, but he’s disgustingly rich, and I’m his pretty little trophy wife, so
what’s a girl to do?
He stares at me from the foot of the grassy hill I parked our cart on, his
golf club braced across his shoulders, his blond hair slicked back with a
thick layer of gel. I hate when he styles his hair like that—it makes him
look twenty years older and twice as stiff. He’s not a bad-looking guy. In
fact, I’m pretty sure anyone who passed him on the street would think he
was absurdly handsome, in a serious-prep-school-boy-turned-businessmogul kind of way.
I certainly thought he was handsome once, but I see a lot more of him
now.
Walter stands in the sand pit he’s been trying (and failing) to hit his ball
out of for the last several minutes. For someone who drags me to this
hellscape week after week, he’s a pitiful golfer. The books I bring serve to
entertain me, but they also keep me from laughing in his temperamental
face. Two birdies, one stone.
My husband never misses an opportunity to ridicule me for my reading
habits in return.
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