Welcome Today's Featured Author
S M Phillips!!
Escape Down Under
Fallen Down Under
Forever Down Under
Obsession
Betrayal
Since You've Been Gone
First Chapter for Heartbreak's A Bitch
Chapter One
“Okay, you’re really gonna need to order more of these bad boys after the day that I’ve had.”
Throwing my bag down at the side of me, I let out a long, deep sigh. Part frustration and part relief.
“Shit Emily, was it that bad?”
“Was it bad? Was it bloody bad?” She’s got absolutely no idea. Seriously.
Bad is waking up in the morning to find that you’re out of coffee. Bad is walking out the front door, only to realise when it’s much too late that you’ve forgotten to put your knickers on and now you’re forced to parade around commando for the rest of the day next to the office sleaze.
Bloody hell, what I would have given for it to have just been bad. I guess today I learned that some people out there are well and truly off their nut.
“You’ve honestly got no idea what I have just been through.” I say, not quite ready to go into too much detail just yet. It’s all still too fresh and too raw in my mind. Instead, I reach out and pick up another shot and throw it back, welcoming the sudden assault as the alcohol pleasantly burns its way down my throat, giving me a much needed distraction. “What the bloody hell is my life, Rachel?” I say a little too loudly, just as the bar falls eerily quiet around us. I can feel the heated stares from the people surrounding us begin to burn into the back of me. Great, as if I’ve not been embarrassed enough today. Trying my best to avoid instant eye contact with any of them, I fluster and end up slamming my shot glass back down on the table before me; albeit, a little too eagerly.
“You know it’s only like three o’clock in the afternoon, don’t you?”
“And… Since when did the time matter?” I ask my best friend as she watches me closely.
“It matters because you and I both know that you’re absolutely shit when it comes to handling your drink, especially the strong stuff.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. She’s always bloody right, but there’s not a cat in hells chance that I’m about to openly admit that to her. “What’s your point? You do know that nobody likes a killjoy, don’t you?” I snap back at her.
I know that I’m being a complete and utter bitch, but why can’t she see that I just need a moment? Now really isn’t the time to start asking ridiculous questions. There’s a time and a place for all that bullshit and in my eyes, that time’s never. All I really want to do is quietly drink myself into a complete oblivion, which shouldn’t take all that long, really. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Plus, at least that way I don’t have to remember how much of a Grade-A fuck up I really am.
Throwing my bag down at the side of me, I let out a long, deep sigh. Part frustration and part relief.
“Shit Emily, was it that bad?”
“Was it bad? Was it bloody bad?” She’s got absolutely no idea. Seriously.
Bad is waking up in the morning to find that you’re out of coffee. Bad is walking out the front door, only to realise when it’s much too late that you’ve forgotten to put your knickers on and now you’re forced to parade around commando for the rest of the day next to the office sleaze.
Bloody hell, what I would have given for it to have just been bad. I guess today I learned that some people out there are well and truly off their nut.
“You’ve honestly got no idea what I have just been through.” I say, not quite ready to go into too much detail just yet. It’s all still too fresh and too raw in my mind. Instead, I reach out and pick up another shot and throw it back, welcoming the sudden assault as the alcohol pleasantly burns its way down my throat, giving me a much needed distraction. “What the bloody hell is my life, Rachel?” I say a little too loudly, just as the bar falls eerily quiet around us. I can feel the heated stares from the people surrounding us begin to burn into the back of me. Great, as if I’ve not been embarrassed enough today. Trying my best to avoid instant eye contact with any of them, I fluster and end up slamming my shot glass back down on the table before me; albeit, a little too eagerly.
“You know it’s only like three o’clock in the afternoon, don’t you?”
“And… Since when did the time matter?” I ask my best friend as she watches me closely.
“It matters because you and I both know that you’re absolutely shit when it comes to handling your drink, especially the strong stuff.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. She’s always bloody right, but there’s not a cat in hells chance that I’m about to openly admit that to her. “What’s your point? You do know that nobody likes a killjoy, don’t you?” I snap back at her.
I know that I’m being a complete and utter bitch, but why can’t she see that I just need a moment? Now really isn’t the time to start asking ridiculous questions. There’s a time and a place for all that bullshit and in my eyes, that time’s never. All I really want to do is quietly drink myself into a complete oblivion, which shouldn’t take all that long, really. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Plus, at least that way I don’t have to remember how much of a Grade-A fuck up I really am.
Fabulous, now I’m bloody ready to throw myself the mother of all pity parties.”
“Oh, come on drama queen. Put your inner bitch back in her box and tell me what happened. You seemed really keen on this one.”
“Oh, I was.” I let out a hysterical laugh as I remember the crazy butterflies that happily swarmed my stomach earlier this morning. “Ah, who the hell am I trying to kid here, Rach? Maybe I just wasn’t built right or something.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a bloody minute. What the hell are you harping on about now you crazy woman?” Rachel, my best friend laughs at me. The one person who knows me better than anyone else is actually laughing right in my face as she tries to take me seriously, but I can tell just by looking into her warm and kind hazel eyes that she’s failing… Miserably.
“Quit your laughing.” I plead at her. “I’m actually trying my best to be serious here.”
“Emily, listen to me. How the hell do you expect me to take you seriously when shit like that just randomly flies out of your mouth?”
“And this is the kind of support that I get.” I silently sigh to myself.
“Rachel, think about it. Just stop for a minute and actually think about what I’m trying to say to you. It all makes perfect sense now…”
“It does? Well I’m glad something makes sense to you, because let me tell you, you bloody don’t.” Rachel cuts in, but I casually dismiss her concerns with a quick wave of my hand.
“I always attract the fuck-up’s. No matter what I do, where I go, they always come crawling out of the woodwork and find me.”
“Emily, all you need to do is quit looking for perfection.”
“Excuse me?” My voice comes out on a high pitched squeak, one that sounds just like a pubescent little boy and my eyes grow wide as I not so patiently await Rachel’s response.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that you seem to have raised your standards so high that no one is ever going to be good enough for you. What if one of these fuck-ups, as you so kindly call them. What if one of them is actually your one true soulmate? Honestly honey, you’ll never know unless you lower those goddamn high expectations of yours and give the poor guys a chance.”
“Do not make me laugh. Are you actually being for real right now, or have you had a recent blow to that pretty little head of yours? How many times do I have to play the bad guy and burst your bubble of awesomeness, only to tell you that there is no such thing as soulmates? It’s just a sad persons messed up dream, actually fooling themselves into believing that fairy-tales really do exist. Honestly Rach, it’s nothing but absolute tosh if you ask me.”
“Oh, Emily. One day someone may just surprise you and finally break down those steel walls and cut right through that icy, black heart of yours.”
“It’s icy and black because some little low-life suddenly decided that it would be a flaming cracking idea to openly claim it, play with it for fun, while somehow feeding his own sick and twisted pleasure.” I say, very matter of fact and throw another shot back, only this time my head feels a little hazy.
“Oh, come on drama queen. Put your inner bitch back in her box and tell me what happened. You seemed really keen on this one.”
“Oh, I was.” I let out a hysterical laugh as I remember the crazy butterflies that happily swarmed my stomach earlier this morning. “Ah, who the hell am I trying to kid here, Rach? Maybe I just wasn’t built right or something.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a bloody minute. What the hell are you harping on about now you crazy woman?” Rachel, my best friend laughs at me. The one person who knows me better than anyone else is actually laughing right in my face as she tries to take me seriously, but I can tell just by looking into her warm and kind hazel eyes that she’s failing… Miserably.
“Quit your laughing.” I plead at her. “I’m actually trying my best to be serious here.”
“Emily, listen to me. How the hell do you expect me to take you seriously when shit like that just randomly flies out of your mouth?”
“And this is the kind of support that I get.” I silently sigh to myself.
“Rachel, think about it. Just stop for a minute and actually think about what I’m trying to say to you. It all makes perfect sense now…”
“It does? Well I’m glad something makes sense to you, because let me tell you, you bloody don’t.” Rachel cuts in, but I casually dismiss her concerns with a quick wave of my hand.
“I always attract the fuck-up’s. No matter what I do, where I go, they always come crawling out of the woodwork and find me.”
“Emily, all you need to do is quit looking for perfection.”
“Excuse me?” My voice comes out on a high pitched squeak, one that sounds just like a pubescent little boy and my eyes grow wide as I not so patiently await Rachel’s response.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that you seem to have raised your standards so high that no one is ever going to be good enough for you. What if one of these fuck-ups, as you so kindly call them. What if one of them is actually your one true soulmate? Honestly honey, you’ll never know unless you lower those goddamn high expectations of yours and give the poor guys a chance.”
“Do not make me laugh. Are you actually being for real right now, or have you had a recent blow to that pretty little head of yours? How many times do I have to play the bad guy and burst your bubble of awesomeness, only to tell you that there is no such thing as soulmates? It’s just a sad persons messed up dream, actually fooling themselves into believing that fairy-tales really do exist. Honestly Rach, it’s nothing but absolute tosh if you ask me.”
“Oh, Emily. One day someone may just surprise you and finally break down those steel walls and cut right through that icy, black heart of yours.”
“It’s icy and black because some little low-life suddenly decided that it would be a flaming cracking idea to openly claim it, play with it for fun, while somehow feeding his own sick and twisted pleasure.” I say, very matter of fact and throw another shot back, only this time my head feels a little hazy.
“Oh hello. These little shots of goodness are actually quite naughty.”
I think to myself, while watching Rachel eye me suspiciously, her
porcelain heart shaped face cocked to one side with one of her
flawlessly threaded brows raised slightly. I know exactly what’s running
through her head right now and I don’t want to hear it. Ugh, I hate it
when she starts to get all maternal on me. I know she means well and all
that, but for crying out loud; I’m almost thirty for god sake.
I don’t need mothering. Mothering isn’t what I’m after. I need a bloody man in my life, a bit of fun; some excitement. God forgive me if I’m asking for too much, but a little bit of stamina and some pretty good sex wouldn’t go amiss, either.
“I thought we agreed that you’d relax and have a little fun with all this?”
“Rach, trust me. As much as I would love to, and I’d really, really love to; there’s absolutely no fricking way that I can relax and have fun with a guy who leers and groans, all the while playing with his nipples when he’s talking to me. It’s just not right.” I add, desperate for her to understand how traumatic it was for me. “Some people might be into that shit, but it’s not for me. And before you start, yes I know that’s saying something. Like I said Rach, complete fuck-ups. Plus, he looked naff all like his profile picture either. I bet his bloody dick-pic was a fake too.”
“Oh Emily, please say that you weren’t…”
I smile a gleeful smile as I watch nothing but utter shock glisten in her eyes as they slowly grow wider and wider with each passing second. “God no.” I finally say after a long, dramatic pause. “But listen, if someone’s going to send me an image then you can bet your bloody life that I’m gonna open it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a picture of a cute little kitten, or something that resembles a shrivelled up portabella mushroom. It’s being opened and the problem lies with the sender and the sender alone. To be fair though, I didn’t realise that guys still did stuff like that. I mean c’mon, they’re not exactly the prettiest of things to look at, are they?”
“Ha, you’re right, there. Now don’t get me wrong, some do look pretty decent in the flesh though. I just don’t think that the vast majority have mastered the perfect angle or Instagram filter just yet.”
“Dear God. I hope they never do.” I squeal. “Can you imagine? Knowing my bloody luck my phone would end up glowing like Blackpool Tower and end up riddled with Chlamydia or something.”
I can’t help but shudder at the thought of seeing numerous pictures of a wide variety of man-meat. Jesus, it’d be a bloody cock-fest. In all honesty, receiving the odd dick-pic here and there does absolutely nothing for me, it never has. Bloody hell, if it did then I’d be googling the shit out of them all day long.
I don’t need mothering. Mothering isn’t what I’m after. I need a bloody man in my life, a bit of fun; some excitement. God forgive me if I’m asking for too much, but a little bit of stamina and some pretty good sex wouldn’t go amiss, either.
“I thought we agreed that you’d relax and have a little fun with all this?”
“Rach, trust me. As much as I would love to, and I’d really, really love to; there’s absolutely no fricking way that I can relax and have fun with a guy who leers and groans, all the while playing with his nipples when he’s talking to me. It’s just not right.” I add, desperate for her to understand how traumatic it was for me. “Some people might be into that shit, but it’s not for me. And before you start, yes I know that’s saying something. Like I said Rach, complete fuck-ups. Plus, he looked naff all like his profile picture either. I bet his bloody dick-pic was a fake too.”
“Oh Emily, please say that you weren’t…”
I smile a gleeful smile as I watch nothing but utter shock glisten in her eyes as they slowly grow wider and wider with each passing second. “God no.” I finally say after a long, dramatic pause. “But listen, if someone’s going to send me an image then you can bet your bloody life that I’m gonna open it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a picture of a cute little kitten, or something that resembles a shrivelled up portabella mushroom. It’s being opened and the problem lies with the sender and the sender alone. To be fair though, I didn’t realise that guys still did stuff like that. I mean c’mon, they’re not exactly the prettiest of things to look at, are they?”
“Ha, you’re right, there. Now don’t get me wrong, some do look pretty decent in the flesh though. I just don’t think that the vast majority have mastered the perfect angle or Instagram filter just yet.”
“Dear God. I hope they never do.” I squeal. “Can you imagine? Knowing my bloody luck my phone would end up glowing like Blackpool Tower and end up riddled with Chlamydia or something.”
I can’t help but shudder at the thought of seeing numerous pictures of a wide variety of man-meat. Jesus, it’d be a bloody cock-fest. In all honesty, receiving the odd dick-pic here and there does absolutely nothing for me, it never has. Bloody hell, if it did then I’d be googling the shit out of them all day long.
“You know you never said how you got away.”
“Huh?”
“From the dude. How did you make your great escape?” She asks again, waving her cocktail glass around excitedly in anticipation.
“Oh, that?” My mind slowly trickles back to the present and automatically I dutifully reach out for another shot. Oh my poor liver, please forgive me.” I mutter to myself before throwing it back. “I just politely informed him that I’d love nothing more than for him to stroke my balls just the way he was caressing his nipples because it was really turning me on and doing all things kind of crazy to me. I might have also told him that as far as I was concerned, the two of us were most definitely in business and I’d love to invite a plus one, obviously if he was into that kind of thing.”
Rachel’s drink squirts out of her mouth in the most ladylike fashion; from shock, I’m sure. “Oh. My. God, Emily.”
“What?” I reply back and smile at her proudly. “If he can be rude and creepy enough to do that kind of shit to me, then it’s only fair that I’m a little rude back, no?” Seriously, she doesn’t actually think that I would just happily sit back and allow someone to insult me like that? Regardless of whether you know someone or not, bloody manners cost nothing and they’ll always get you further in life if you use them correctly.
“Well, I guess I can’t really argue with you when you put it like that. But what would you have actually done if he’d ended up being quite partial to the sound of stroking your balls?”
“Clearly it wouldn’t have worked out either way for us, would it? I guess we just weren’t meant to be.” I laugh. I have to laugh, because if I don’t then I’ll end up turning into an emotional freak of the week right in the middle of our local haunt, all because I can’t bag a bloody guy.
“Fair play.” Rachel nods and smiles at me and I’m almost certain, yet it could be the alcohol taking over my body, but something very similar to a look of sheer pride dances across her pretty, delicate face.
See, I knew deep down that she still loved me. Regardless if my inner bitch is out of her box, or not. Secretly I think Rachel enjoys it more when she comes out to play every now and again.
Sometimes life just needs to be mixed up a little bit.
“Huh?”
“From the dude. How did you make your great escape?” She asks again, waving her cocktail glass around excitedly in anticipation.
“Oh, that?” My mind slowly trickles back to the present and automatically I dutifully reach out for another shot. Oh my poor liver, please forgive me.” I mutter to myself before throwing it back. “I just politely informed him that I’d love nothing more than for him to stroke my balls just the way he was caressing his nipples because it was really turning me on and doing all things kind of crazy to me. I might have also told him that as far as I was concerned, the two of us were most definitely in business and I’d love to invite a plus one, obviously if he was into that kind of thing.”
Rachel’s drink squirts out of her mouth in the most ladylike fashion; from shock, I’m sure. “Oh. My. God, Emily.”
“What?” I reply back and smile at her proudly. “If he can be rude and creepy enough to do that kind of shit to me, then it’s only fair that I’m a little rude back, no?” Seriously, she doesn’t actually think that I would just happily sit back and allow someone to insult me like that? Regardless of whether you know someone or not, bloody manners cost nothing and they’ll always get you further in life if you use them correctly.
“Well, I guess I can’t really argue with you when you put it like that. But what would you have actually done if he’d ended up being quite partial to the sound of stroking your balls?”
“Clearly it wouldn’t have worked out either way for us, would it? I guess we just weren’t meant to be.” I laugh. I have to laugh, because if I don’t then I’ll end up turning into an emotional freak of the week right in the middle of our local haunt, all because I can’t bag a bloody guy.
“Fair play.” Rachel nods and smiles at me and I’m almost certain, yet it could be the alcohol taking over my body, but something very similar to a look of sheer pride dances across her pretty, delicate face.
See, I knew deep down that she still loved me. Regardless if my inner bitch is out of her box, or not. Secretly I think Rachel enjoys it more when she comes out to play every now and again.
Sometimes life just needs to be mixed up a little bit.
Teasers for
Author Links
FB Reader group:
Interview With S M Phillips:
Q: Can you tell us a little about your books?
A:
I love to write about Alpha men and strong independent women. My books
are full of passion, humour and romance. Oh, and the odd little bit of
naughtiness too. ;)
Q: What inspires you to write?
A:
I love escaping the real world. Being able to close off completely and
create something believable, yet completely fictional at the same time
is so exciting. I love learning where my characters will take me next.
At the drop of a hat, they usually take a whole new direction. This is
why I don't really work well with outlines.
Q: Do you have a favourite spot to write?
A:
Yes. I always write in my living room. Be it jotting down on a note
pad, or typing up on my laptop, I always like to be in the same room as
my family. That way, I can make sure that they're all staying out of
trouble.
Q: Do you have a favourite food or drink you must have nearby when writing?
A: Yes, always coffee. I'm sure there's no blood left in my veins, it's purely caffeine.
Q: Do you listen to music when you write?
A:
Usually I tend to create playlists of songs that help me write certain
scenes. Failing that, I always like to have some background noise. That
can be anything from music, to cbeebies.
Q:If you could spend 24 hours as a fictional character, who would you choose?
A: Clary Fray from The Mortal Instruments. I mean, come on, Jace Wyland... enough said.
Q: Are you doing any Author signing events this year?
A:
I don't have any scheduled for this year, however I will be attending a
signing in Newcastle next June. I'm super excited to meet everyone.
Q: What writing projects are you currently working on?
A:
Right now I'm working on 'Heartbreak's A Bitch!' and I cannot wait
until release day. I think there is a little bit of Emily Parker in
every female out there.
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