Trading Places by Emily Duvall EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Emily Duvall
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Lexi
Here’s how things stand.
No one’s puked yet. The group of influencers do their thing in pink lace
lingerie. Some lap sitting is involved. Tight skin with some boob showing
does the trick in the face of distinguished men and open shirt collars.
The auction is for a good cause, I swear. The huge crowd is hot bodies
who made the required contributions. We are all committed to raising
money for hunger awareness.
I press my lips together in distaste. Oh my God. Who dropped the ball
and didn’t order the Cristal? “Traumatizing,” I say at the exact moment the
dual confetti cannons spray the room to bursts of cheers and sloppy
dancing.
I should let my anger go over the building engineer’s firm veto of my
request to put in a giant swing in the portrait hall.
Guess we can’t get everything we want.
I check the message from my father. You charged $240,000 in three
nights at Necker Island?
Guilty. But also? Not in the mood for a lecture. Best to skip the part
where I rented the whole island. At least he’s not bringing up the latest
gossip that I wrecked a marriage.
I delete his text. Oopsy.
Who could ever put a price on relaxation? Price tags are mythical
creatures like unicorns. I know they’re out there. I swipe my diamonddusted nails over my jaw’s ultra-soft skin for proof I have no regrets about
using my father’s private jet.
A camera lens is suddenly in my face. I push my hand out. “Delete that
shot,” I say to the hired photographer.
If someone were to take a closer look, they would see a twenty-five-yearold in a Chanel dress hand-stitched for me, Lexi North. The plunging satin
neckline in my favorite plum color shows a flawless section of creamy, firm
breasts giving off a look but don’t touch message and a slit showing off
thighs made smooth by the white caviar body spa treatment.
Every eyelash is in place. Long, inky, and smooth. Four-inch heels on my
feet.
If you took an even closer look, you would see a girl who showed up not
to raise money to stock community pantries with oatmeal and pasta. I came
to see the man I’ve been pining for since I saw him competing in a polo
match in the ninth grade. Where is he?
He would be Hudson Hoffman.
The name alone has my heart pounding and my imagination overactive in
anticipation of our reunion. I ignore the roar of my empty stomach and
square my shoulders, giving a pouty, side-angled look in time for the
photographer to click the camera.
“Your lips look luminous. What is that?” Talia asks, sipping her glass of
white wine. My best friend could win hair awards with her shiny black hair.
She pulls off blunt bangs (harder to achieve than one thinks).
I touch my finger to my lower lip graced by the twenty-four-karat goldinfused lip gloss. “A little something that hasn’t hit the market yet.” I sweep
my hand over my Judith Lieber clutch with room for only three thousand
dollars and my phone.
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