The Perfect Wrong Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
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Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow returns with a blazing forbidden romance where every wrong feels perfectly right for two star-crossed lovers...

Everything that could go wrong did.
The evil smile on my bestie's face should've screamed bad idea. But I took her “easy” bet:
Find a man before summer ends. Renounce my V-card. Enjoy life.
I thought I was entitled to the same sweet ritual every girl deserves—until a force of nature blew in.

His name is Chris Triton.
Tattooed god. Moody ex SEAL. Zero filter. Born to drive me bonkers.
We barely spoke for ten minutes before he kissed my soul out.
Too fast. Too intense. Too flipping good.

Then I found out we'd be sharing the same roof the very next day.
Dad marrying his mom squashed our little chemistry experiment instantly.
You know, the normal reaction. But Chris doesn't do normal.
Or predictable.
Or sane.

Still, I'm sure he's playing some twisted game when he keeps teasing the unthinkable.
I think he won't scorch my heart black until the Vegas trip—another hilariously bad idea.
It's just us and a tension so thick you can chew it.
Just an unexpected hero charging to my rescue.
Just one freaking bed.
What the hell do you do when the perfect wrong feels undeniably right?

A full-length forbidden romance with sizzle, jaw-dropping sass, and all the heart-stompy butterflies impossible Happily Ever Afters are made of. Witness one growly protector battle the worst luck in the known universe to throw his princess over his shoulder and bring her home forever.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Green Envy (Delia)

Orange sunset.

Gold lights.

Red, red lips.

I don’t know her, but I’m already jealous of the girl’s siren-red lipstick as she kisses her date.

Yes, I’m feeling selfish.

Shallow? You bet.

No, I’m definitely not jealous of the way he’s grinding against her like a sex-starved hyena.

Still...it could make a nice scene for my canvas if I make it a little less X-rated. The lights are just right and if I make them silhouettes under these string lights glittering with reflected sunlight, I might have a win.

I fight the urge to snap a pic and turn around, surveying the other happy party people.

My muse smiles. There’s a lot of material here, honestly.

I like to paint scenes stolen from life, but not so badly it makes me some creeper. I’ll just have to rely on my memory and—

“Holy shit! Do you see the meat on that boy? Firefly McHottie at nine o’clock. Big. Inked. And totally your type.” Marnie’s high, whiny voice rips me out of my art trance. Her obnoxiously bright-blue nails tighten on my shoulder, pointing me at an older boy by the bar laughing with his friends.

Ugh.

She sounds so desperate for muscle that I half expect the gorilla in the speedo she’s been eye-licking for the last ten minutes to skip fetching our drinks. Maybe he’ll just drag her off to a quiet corner for some alone time right away and dump the whole small-talk part.

I doubt she’ll mind.

Especially when the eye-licking is mutual—and that’s saying it the nice way.

Judging by the wolfish glint in his eye, it won’t take much for this dude to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off Neanderthal style for the rest of the night.

“Delia, hello! Don’t tell me you’re up in your painter head again? We had a deal, Miss Modesty,” she sings in my ear.

Amazingly, I don’t shudder.

“Oh, damn. For a split second I thought you’d let me forget. Y’know, rather than reminding me for the tenth time today,” I say glumly, draining the last dregs of my water bottle. “He’s like the oldest guy here. I don’t know that I can do—um, that—with a guy over thirty...”

Her smile widens, showing off teeth that suddenly seem too sharp.

“Oh, come on! I’m trying to help, ya know. If you don’t find someone who meets that sky-high standard of yours, you’re not going to be doing that with anyone. Especially if you keep calling it that!” She rolls her eyes. “Can’t you even say sex just once?”

Can I? I stare at her, hating how my cheeks heat.

“See? By the time you make your move, you’ll be down to geeks and dad bods. And not the hot kind,” she warns. “Honestly, I don’t even want to pick a guy for you. I only made this dumb pact so you’d choose. But a deal’s a deal and you pinky swore. That’s sacred.”

Barely an hour into this little shindig, and I’m ready to roll my eyes right out of my head.

I still want to blame that dumb bet on one glass of wine too many. But really, it must’ve been my own stupidity.

Why else would I ever make a pact with my friend, Miss Tinderella Incarnate, knowing she’s been on a mission to make me give up my V-card for years?

But I had all summer when we made the deal.

Now, it’s closing in on late June and fall is creeping closer.

Now, I can practically taste my future—along with whatever overgrown, shallow prick she gets to match me up with in September like a one-woman hookup app if I don’t get off my butt and get laid.

Laughing, she shakes her hips, causing her beauty queen body to bounce.

I don’t know how she tolerates her skimpy, skintight bikinis. Not that one wouldn’t feel awfully nice right now in the balmy California evening.

“It’s fine, Marnie. Really. He’s a decent option. He’s just...old.” I pause before I look at her. “And I’m not you. I just don’t see the appeal of the age gap thing yet. It’s not my style.”

Really, I don’t see the appeal of this party when I could be upstairs in my room, laying another gorgeous sunset in bright paints that try to translate my soul.

I stare down at my tank top and shorts. I’m decked out in the most conservative beachwear by far tonight. What else is new?

Sometimes I wonder if Marnie just keeps me around for the real estate.

Everybody else enjoys these summer parties on Dad’s cozy little stretch of beach way more than I do.

But Marnie drains her Bellini and tosses her head back in another gut-ripping laugh before she smacks me on the shoulder.

“Oh, girl. Just what the hell is your style? I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

I shrug as she leans in closer, smelling like peach-breath and booze.

“Why wouldn’t you try it with Kyle? Jesus, lady. I almost fell over when he told me you two were together that long and you never got past first base. You’re about to finish college and you’re still a virgin. I’m not letting my best friend walk off campus with a fancy degree and her cherry intact.”


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