7 books by Kitty Parker
Requirements: Epub reader, 1.91 Mb
Overview: I was born in Lafayette, Louisiana on the day of Pearl Harbor’s Anniversary. I began writing when I was seven years old first starting a series of super sleuths who investigated Paranormal oddities which I dictated as "The Cody and Marcy Series" (Hey! I was seven don’t judge me). I am a lover of writing, superheros, and unicorns and yes they do exist somewhere. We’ve yet to find them. I decided to start writing to be free, free from worry, free from life, free to dream. Writing is my passion and I hope that I succeed at it. As a young author I love feedback. No one is perfect, what a boring world would that be.
Genre: Romance
A Weirdly Perverted Romance
I made my way to the door and just as I reached for the door knob I got pulled back "Well yeah that was slightly awkward…but I have your school work here you missed today and uh I don’t think you should be going to work you still seem a little…"
I glared, a little what? I snatched the papers out of his hands "Yippee" I muttered looking down at them; the homework included a maths project. How did he get my homework?
"Oh I tracked down your teachers and asked." He reported with a smirk at my confused looks "Aren’t I great?"
"Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss a maths project." I muttered frowning down at the papers and then looking up at him, his expression was that of a wounded puppy. I sighed reaching up to pat his head "It was a nice thought however."
His expression brightened "Yes, I know, I am full of nice thoughts."
Because It’s Not Love
We had sex 3 times in a row for about 2 hours. And what made me feel guilty about it was the fact that I was sober…the whole time.
It was fine with me for losing my virginity when I was actually quite drunk—which was probably not ALL my fault (technically)—but to do it the next morning for a few times and you were actually enjoying it was another thing. I didn’t know if I should feel happy that I now could finally call myself a ‘woman’, or feel stupid because I let a guy use my body so easily. I hated the thought of the latter.
I blamed Carson for everything…
Confessions of an Estranged College Freshman
The world hated me.
How did I know that the world hated me, Evangeline Eleanor Kaiser, of all people?
Well, for starters, my lovely parents decided that, with a surname beginning with the letter K, their daughter ought to have first and middle names beginning with the letter E. Needless to say, I was one of the few kids who never had one of those initialed L.L. Bean backpacks.
Luckily, the humor of the "EEK!" jokes wore thin after elementary school. Of course, people made some cracks about my last name when we studied World War One in middle school, but calling me "Wilhelm" and demanding that I pay war reparations got old pretty quickly as well.
Love and Misfortune
"You’re beautiful when you laugh," Parker sad quietly, his gaze intent on her face. Tessa calmed quickly, rarely having heard such a compliment.
"I’m afraid I don’t do it as often as I used to," she said sadly.
"I figured as much, after all, I don’t think you smiled once the first time we met," Parker teased.
"I probably didn’t, I tend to let my worry get the best of me sometimes, a lot of times actually."
"That is hard for me to believe, you are probably the strongest woman I’ve ever met."
"Oh please! Growing up with a mother like yours? You can’t be serious!"
Parker leaned closer, but not too close, "I am perfectly serious. I am not saying that my mother isn’t a strong woman; she has dealt with an awful lot. But, she didn’t deal with nearly as much as you have. You are twenty-five years old and you are raising your brother and sisters with very close to nothing. I don’t know how you do it."
Mafia Mugs and Sexy Hugs
Rich girl. The first thing that comes to a person’s mind when they hear those two words are, spoiled, daddy’s girl, slut, designer labels, ditzy, you get the picture. I’m a rich girl. A rich girl that meets none of these stereotypes.
Okay well first off you probably want to know my name; it’s Emma Tavor. Now let me explain why I don’t fit these stereotypes. Some would say that I’m spoiled because I live in a large house filled with many, many expensive things. To me being spoiled means that you can get whatever you want. Now don’t get me wrong, I can, but you’re only spoiled if you take advantage of this, which I don’t.
Preaching to the Choir
"Oh man," he laughed. "You should have seen your face. It was priceless!"
I smacked him upside the head. "Jerk," I growled. "Why do you have to torture me all the time?"
"You just make it so easy," he said, beaming. "And I’m not going to deny that it’s pretty damn amusing."
"For you, maybe," I muttered.
Kurt leaned back in his seat and stretched his long, toned body to the extent that he was able in such a confined space.
"Anyway, Lotte," he said. "If you didn’t hate me so much, maybe I wouldn’t have to act like such a jerk."
"I have to hate you," I replied.
"Why’s that?"
"Just cause."
"Just cause what?"
"Just cause I always have. And you’re a jerk."
"You’re stubborn."
"I know. You’re persistent."
"I know."
"Ass."
"Bitch."
"Dickwad."
"Tart."
The string of insults kept coming. It was going to be a long night.
The Matchmaker
Sometimes the only thing you want is a date. Someone to be with, whether for a single date or an eternity. But the problem always is, there isn’t anyone available that’s even decent. So what do you do? You wait. You sit down and wait for him or her to show up. That’s where I come in. Most people don’t even see me. The majority of those who do notice me know me as the face behind the book, or the girl in the corner of the smart classes. My teachers know and worship me as Miss Laycha. The extreme few who are actually my friends know me as Emma. But no one knows the person behind the quiet mask covered by a book. The whisper borne through the corridors by hopefuls and established couples. The murmur that makes that special someone materialize if you just drop your name into locker 420, the third locker from the left in the C wing. The person without a name, known only as… The Matchmaker.
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