Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Good Girl Complex |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Elle Kennedy |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | 1250796733 (ISBN13: 9781250796738) |
| Book Information: | |
She does everything right. So what could go wrong? Mackenzie "Mac" Cabot is a people pleaser. Her demanding parents. Her prep school friends. Her long-time boyfriend. It's exhausting, really, always following the rules. Unlike most twenty-year-olds, all she really wants to do is focus on growing her internet business, but first she must get a college degree at her parents' insistence. That means moving to the beachside town of Avalon Bay, a community made up of locals and the wealthy students of Garnet College. Mac's had plenty of practice suppressing her wilder impulses, but when she meets local bad boy Cooper Hartley, that ability is suddenly tested. Cooper is rough around the edges. Raw. Candid. A threat to her ordered existence. Their friendship soon becomes the realest thing in her life. Despite his disdain for the trust-fund kids he sees coming and going from his town, Cooper soon realizes Mac isn't just another rich clone and falls for her. Hard. But as Mac finally starts feeling accepted by Cooper and his friends, the secret he's been keeping from her threatens the only place she's ever felt at home. | |
| Books by Author: | Elle Kennedy |
CHAPTER ONE
COOPER
I’m up to my eyeballs in Jägerbombs. Yesterday, I was married to the blender, pumping out piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris like sweatshop labor. Tonight, it’s vodka Red Bulls and Fireballs. And don’t forget the rosé. These dipshits and their rosé. They’re all slammed against the bar, wall-to-wall pastel linen shirts and three-hundred-dollar haircuts, shouting drink orders at me. It’s too hot for this shit.
In Avalon Bay, the seasons are marked by an endless cycle of exodus and invasion. The way the tides turn in a storm: Summer ends and the churn begins. Sunburned tourists pack up their minivans and sugar-slathered kids and head inland, back to suburbs and cubicles. Replaced by the surge of spray-tanned college brats—the clone armies returning to Garnet College. These are the trust-fund babies whose coastal palaces block out the ocean views for the rest of us scraping by on the change that falls from their pockets.
“Hey, bro, six shots of tequila!” some clone barks, slapping a credit card down on the sticky wet wood of the bar top like I should be impressed. Really, he’s just another typical Garnet fuckhead who walked straight out of a Sperry catalog.
“Remind me why we do this,” I say to Steph as I rack up a line of Jack and Cokes for her at the waitress stand.
She reaches into her bra and lifts each breast so they sit higher and fuller in her black Joe’s Beachfront Bar tank top. “The tips, Coop.”
Right. Nothing spends faster than somebody else’s money. Rich kids spitting bills in a game of one-upmanship, all courtesy of Daddy’s credit card.
Weekends on the boardwalk are like Mardi Gras. Tonight is the last Friday before the fall semester at Garnet begins, and that means three days of raging straight to Monday morning, the bars bursting at the seams. We’re practically printing money. Not that I plan to do this forever. I moonlight here on the weekends to save up some extra dough so I can stop working for other people and start being my own boss. Once I’ve got enough saved, my ass is out from behind this bar for good.
“Watch out for yourself,” I warn Steph as she places the drinks on her tray. “Holler if you need me to grab the bat.”
It wouldn’t be the first time I roughed someone up who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Nights like this, there’s a different energy. Humidity so thick you can slather the salty air on like sunscreen. Bodies on bodies, zero inhibitions, and tequila-infused testosterone full of bad intentions.
Fortunately, Steph’s a tough girl. “I can manage.” With a wink she takes the drinks, plasters a smile on her face, and spins around, long black ponytail swinging.
I don’t know how she tolerates it, these dudes pawing all over her. Don’t get me wrong, I get my fair share of female attention. Some get pretty bold, too friendly. But with chicks, you throw them a grin and a shot, they giggle to their friends and leave you alone. Not these guys, though. The crew team douchebags and Greek Row fuckboys. Steph is constantly getting grabbed and groped and having all manner of vulgarities slithered into her ear over the screech of the blaring music. To her credit, she hardly ever punches any of them.
It’s a constant grind. Catering to the seasonal parasites, this invasive species that uses us locals up, sucks us dry, and leaves their garbage behind.
And yet, this town would hardly exist without them.
“Yo! Let me get those shots!” the clone barks again.
I nod, as if to say Coming right up, when what I really mean is This is me ignoring you on purpose. Instead, a whistle at the other end of the bar catches my attention.
Locals get served first. Without exception. Followed by regulars who tip well, people who are polite, hot women, little old ladies, and then the rest of these overfed jackasses. At the end of the bar, I put down a shot of bourbon for Heidi and pour another for myself. We toss ’em back and I give her a refill.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, because no self-respecting local is on the boardwalk tonight. Too many clones kill the vibe.
“Dropping off Steph’s keys. Had to run by her place.” Heidi was the prettiest girl in the first grade, and not much has changed since. Even in ratty cutoff shorts and a plain blue crop top, she’s undeniably the hottest woman in this bar. “You closing tonight?”
“Yeah, won’t be outta here till three, probably.”
“Wanna come by after?” Heidi pushes up on her toes to lean across the bar.
“Nah, I’m pulling a double tomorrow. Gotta get some sleep.”
She pouts. Playfully at first, then more flippant when she realizes I’m not interested in hooking up tonight. We might’ve indulged in a string of hookups earlier this summer, but making that a regular thing with one of my best friends starts to resemble a relationship, and that’s not where I’m trying to go. I keep hoping she’ll realize that and stop asking.