Midlife Fake Out Read Online Piper Sullivan

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
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“Even worse. You did hear the words I just read back do you, didn’t you? Barefoot and pregnant? In the kitchen where she belongs? To our mostly female fanbase!”

“Brody it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll explain that it was a private message and a joke. I’ll even do a video with my sister to show them.” This will blow over in a day or two, it always did.

“No you won’t. I don’t want you to do a goddamn thing Derek, except what I tell you to do. What I need for you to do is go away. Just for a little while. Lay low and go on a social media hiatus until I tell you otherwise.”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding me, Brody. It was just a joke!”

“It was the wrong type of joke at the wrong time, and it offended everyone! Go back to that Podunk town you’re from and keep a low profile, Derek. Can you do that? For the sake of your career, and if not yours, then your brothers.”

“Shit, you’re serious.”

“Yeah Derek, I’m serious. This whole situation is serious, and I need you to take it seriously.”

I worked too hard on my career to lose it now over some silly joke. “I’m listening. Go home and stay away from the spotlight.” My shoulders fell in disappointment. “Anything else?”

“No,” he sighed in relief. “I need to get with the public relations team and figure out how in the hell to fix this mess. Don’t do anything until you hear from me. Got it?”

“Got it.”

There must have been something in my tone, because when Brody spoke next, his tone had softened. “This isn’t the end of the world Derek, but it will take some finesse to handle it. Just sit tight, and for once in your life, do as you’re told. Tell me you can do that.”

“I can do that Brody. My career means everything to me, you know that.”

“I do, but I also know you’re a stubborn asshole when you want to be.”

“I’ll close up the house now and head to Carson Creek today,” I told him, completely defeated.

“Good. And stay away from all press and social media for the next few days, will you?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me and dropped down onto my bed. Either that or my legs gave out as the gravity of the situation settled on my shoulders.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” I ended the call and sat on my bed for what felt like forever, contemplating how in the hell I’d ended up here after such a spectacular night.

We’d won three awards last night for our last album, including Song of the Year, and today here I was.

Exiled.

Chapter 1

Bella

Early mornings were my favorite time of day, always had been. The world was quiet and peaceful as the earth tilted to meet the sun’s golden rays, and only a few brave souls were awake to see the first beauty of the new day. It was, and had always been a private time, a time for me to gather my thoughts and prepare for the day ahead.

Now that I was officially a farmer—again—of my own free will this time, early mornings and to do lists were a necessity. For now I was a one woman operation with the help of a barely teenage boy, who was now, technically, my son.

It hurt to think about Nicola’s premature death. She was my best friend, my sister in all but the biological sense, and now she was gone thanks to that unforgiving bitch known as cancer. Her death had left me and her son Everest alone in the world, forced to cope without her sunny disposition and ability to see the positive in any situation. Now it was just us, two cynics who still hadn’t found a way to do more than exist without her.

That’s what Carson Creek was for. It was meant to be a change, a reset for both of us, but more of a homecoming for me. I grew up here in this town and on this farm. I tilled and watered the land, fed the animals, plucked the crops and sold them all over the state. I loved farm life, it was in my blood, and I’d always dreamed of taking over the place once Ma and Pa retired. Then high school started, and the bullying, the name calling, the stares and the pointing. What fifteen year old girl didn’t want to wear makeup and look pretty for hormonal teenage boys, right? Even worse than my distinct lack of desire to impress said boys, my sister would argue that I went out of my way to make sure they weren’t interested, but the truth was you could only wash your hands so many times to get the dirt from under your nails. Too many hours in the barn, and not even two showers could completely shake the smell of hay. And what was so wrong with the scent of hay anyway? Without it we wouldn’t have food and nourishment, but that only made me more of an outcast.


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