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What is Romance?


Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, thereā€™s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. Itā€™s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.Itā€™s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in ā€œfairytale love story.ā€




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Read books online Ā» Romance Ā» Engaged to a Jerkface...and I have no say in it! by Icicles (ap literature book list .TXT) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Engaged to a Jerkface...and I have no say in it! by Icicles (ap literature book list .TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Icicles



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Chapter One


ā€œWhat did you say?ā€ I was sure I heard wrong. As bitchy as my mother was, there was no freaking way she just said that!
ā€œIā€™m sorry, Hun. But that doesnā€™t change a thing. Youā€™re getting marriedā€¦and thatā€™s final. Now go pack your stuff. Youā€™ll be leaving tonight. And make sure you put on a nice dress, because theyā€™re coming over for dinner!ā€ My mother said what?!
ā€œWhat the hell! I have to marry a freaking stranger because you lost a bet!ā€ I screamed on the top of my lungs. I just couldnā€™t believe it!
ā€œI know, Honey. Okay, I admit it, I was foolish back then,ā€ like that totally changes things, ā€œBut a dealā€™s a deal. Now go pack!ā€
ā€œFine.ā€ I huffed as I rushed to my bedroom. I donā€™t want to see her face ever again! She just sighs and busies herself in the kitchen. Screw her, she doesnā€™t have to worry about marrying a stranger or something like that.
Ugh, why me? I just turned 17 and my world or teenage is about to end? My mother above all mothers, had to make a bet that she couldnā€™t pay off so I had to marry a total stranger? This is not freaking happening to meā€¦
As soon as I reach my room and flop on my bed, I call Alice, my best friend in this whole demented world. She answers on the first ring.
ā€œHello?ā€
ā€œItā€™s me, Tori. I have some bad newsā€¦ā€
ā€œOMG! Youā€™re pregnant, right?ā€
ā€œEW, Ali! Definitely not! Iā€™m a freaking virgin, alright?ā€
ā€œOhā€¦then what?ā€
ā€œGet your ass over here and Iā€™ll explain.ā€
ā€œOkay, okay. No need to swear, Iā€™m on my way. Bye.ā€
ā€œBye,ā€ I say as I snap my phone shut. I suddenly have an urge to chuck it against the wall, but think better of it. It is my only phone after all.
As I wait for Alice, I dump my all my clothes onto the ground and start sorting them into two piles. One to take with me and one to leave behind. All my clothes have one thing in common. Theyā€™re all black. No, Iā€™m not emo or anything (like those retards at school think), I just love the color black! Even my hair is dyed jet black!
The doorbell rings, which means Alice is here. But I donā€™t want to see my shitty motherā€™s face, so I stay upstairs. Mom answers the door and I can hear Alice stomping up the stairs. She barges through my room and gasps at the black mess on my floor. Iā€™m usually a very neat person.
ā€œEh my gawd! Are you guys having a garage sale?ā€ Thereā€™s one thing you should know about Alice and thatā€™s that she guesses on everything if she has an opportunity to.
ā€œUgh, hell no! Do you have a singe idea what Iā€™m doing?
ā€œUmā€¦cleaning? Sorting?ā€ Well, she is pretty close.
ā€œNO! Iā€™m packing!!!
ā€œFor a vacation? Where?ā€
ā€œArg, NO, Alice! Iā€™m moving!ā€ There, that ought to catch her attention.
ā€œWhat?! No freaking way!ā€ Aliceā€™s eyes grow wide.
ā€œDo you think thatā€™s my fault? No way! Itā€™s not my fault that my bitch of a mother lost a bet and forfeited her only daughter. Not my fault that Iā€™m getting married in 7 months to a total stranger! Not my fault that this is an arranged marriage! An arranged marriage! I have no freaking say in this thing! Where are my rights? GONE, thatā€™s where! Do you think I want to move in with a dude I donā€™t know the hell about?ā€
Aliceā€™s jaw drops. At least she got it now. ā€œWowā€¦OMG! Youā€™re getting married? Like in 7 months? At age 17? Oh, Tori!ā€ She reaches over and hugs me while fresh hot tears flow down my cheeks. ā€œAre you meeting them today?ā€ I nod. ā€œWell, we better get you dressed and stuff, alright, Hun?ā€ I nod again too tired to speak. At least Alice was trying to make an effort to cheer me up. She squeals and rushes into my closet. I sigh, as she starts pulling random black dresses off their hangers and throwing them over her shoulders. Alice has just about as much energy as Alice Cullen from Twilight, but believe me, they donā€™t have any further similarities other than that. Alice has blond hair with black streaks in them. Today she has it slightly curled and tossed into a loose, messy bun. Her big blue eyes are framed with long black eyelashes and bold black eyeliner. Yeah, her favorite color is black as well! We are so alike in many ways!
When sheā€™s done rummaging through my dresses, she makes me try on every single one of them. Not even kidding and there was probably about 20 dresses! She finally found one that satisfied her fashion sense. It was black, of course. It was a v-neck that tied together at the back of the neck. It reached down to my knees. There were little slits that ran up my leg about 3 inches, which made it more comfortable to move in. I had to admit it looked pretty good. It showed all my curves, and made my dark hair stand out.
I sat down, and let Alice work on my make-up and hair, while I relaxed. It was my last day with my best friend in my own house and I wasnā€™t going to let that slip away.


Finally, Alice squealed, indicating that she was finished. I leaped up from the padded chair, and waltzed to my full-length mirror. Alice was jumping up and down (with her endless energy), making some finishing touches with some powdered blush and a few bobby pins. I stopped in front of the mirror and was speechless.
There was a beautiful girl in front of me. One with black hair curled ever so slightly, giving it a little wave. It was held half up half down, with a silver butterfly pin. Her gray eyes were drawn with black eye liner and brimmed with luscious, black lashes. The lips were shiny with gloss so they looked puffier and fuller. The dress made her body look stunning and her silver flats and hoop earrings pulled the outfit together perfectly.
I moved my hand across the mirror as an experiment. My mirror image copied me. So this was me! Alice was finally silent, waiting for me to speak.
ā€œAlice! This is so awesome! Youā€™re the best!ā€ I exclaimed with much effort. She just smiled and shrugged.
ā€œItā€™s a wonder what I can do with my hands. Well, I better leave now. Mom wants me back before 4! Have a nice dinner with your fiancĆ©!ā€ I rolled my eyes and she punched me lightly in the shoulder. Then, she stood up and headed for the door. And then stopped waiting for me to follow. She looked at me questionly with I didnā€™t stand up. I shook my head.
ā€œSorry, Alice. I would walk you to your car, but my mother is down there and I donā€™t really want to see her bitchy face right now!ā€ I gave her my best ā€˜I apologize for the inconvenienceā€™ face. She sighed, but walked down the stairs by herself. Thatā€™s all right, knowing Alice sheā€™ll probably forget all about this in about 10 minutes. I glance at the mirror again and bop my head, watching my normally stick-straight hair swish around in waves.
I donā€™t know how long I stood there. I zone out a lot. But I was pulled out of my reverie when the bell rang. I looked outside my bedroom window and saw a sleek, black limousine. Ooh, pricey! Definitely not Alice, she drives an old, crappy slug bug. My gaze drifts back to the limo. Wait, that means my husband-to-be is already here! Yay meā€”note the sarcasm.
I stomp down the stairs, leaping on the third to last step and landing with full balance. Wow! I actually landed on my feet for once! I usually fall over or land on my butt. Iā€™m a terrible klutz after all. I run into the dining room where my bitchy mother is already seated. I barely glance her way. Itā€™s her own fault that I got stuck in this stupid arranged marriage in the first place! Instead my gaze falls onto the hottest guy Iā€™ve ever seen. Seriously, he was tanned, dirty blond hair, and a preppy. A total god in a T-shirt and shorts. Wait! T-shirt and shorts? And what do I wear? A dress, thatā€™s what!!
He catches me staring, smirks and eye-rapes me. Ew! I can tell by the way heā€™s looking at my body. Gross! Talk about perv! Did I say heā€™s hot? Forget itā€¦heā€™s a jerkface (thatā€™s hot, but pretend I didnā€™t think that). A jerkface whoā€™s a player. I roll my eyes and his smirk deepens. Ugh, jerk alert. I canā€™t believe Iā€™m marrying this retard! But it couldā€™ve been worse. He couldā€™ve been ugly. Better ugly then preppy. And this guy was a total preppy. Iā€™ll call him Mr. Preppy from now on. Heā€™s wearing full Abercrombie shirt and shorts. Iā€™m past those stores ages ago. You basically just bust $20 on a shirt that your going to wear once and then itā€™ll shrink in the washer. At least thatā€™s what happened to me and I swore never to walk in one of those stores ever again.
My motherā€¦I mean the bitch cleared her throat, bringing me back to reality. Stinking reality.
ā€œThis is my daughter Victoria.ā€ Arg! I hate my full name. It sounds so girly! I grimace, but stick out my hand to Mr. Preppyā€™s parents.
ā€œI go my Tori, actually,ā€ I say as I shake his parentsā€™ hands. My motherā€™s big smile falters a little, before she can correct it. Ha, mother!
ā€œHello Tori. Iā€™m Mr. Sanders, but just call me Richie.ā€
ā€œIā€™m Morgan Sanders. Itā€™s a pleasure to finally meet you!ā€ Well, at least Mr. Preppyā€™s parents seemed nice. ā€œAnd this is our son Jake.ā€ Soā€¦Mr. Preppyā€™s name is Jake? It suits him pretty well, since all ā€˜Jakeā€™s are prepsters. Jakes that Iā€™ve met anyways. Jake sticks out his hand and smiles, revealing bleach white teeth. I smile in return, but am scared to touch his hand. Heā€™s probably carrying STDs on that hand. Gross! I make a face in my head and shake his hand. Relieved when he lets go, I make a mental note to wash my hand thoroughly later.
ā€œDinner is served. Tori, you sit next to Jake so you guys can get to know each other.ā€ *Gag*! But I do as Iā€™m told, because I donā€™t really want to fight with my mom in front of these people. As soon as I sit down, Jake moves his hand to my legs. I sit on the very edge of my chair so he canā€™t. I donā€™t really want people groping my leg while I eat. He keeps trying though, and itā€™s really getting on my nerves!
ā€œDude, quit trying to grope my leg!ā€ I whisper/yell. He just grins. Ugh, jerk!
ā€œJust getting to know my wifeā€™s body parts.ā€
ā€œWell, youā€™re not going to do it here!ā€
ā€œAs in, weā€™re going to do it later?ā€
ā€œWhy the hell are you making this so difficult?ā€
ā€œBecause I am difficult.ā€
Arg! This guy is so retarded! I really want to punch his face inside out! So thatā€™s what I do.
ā€œOW! What the hell was that for, Tori?ā€ Wow, this guy was stupid. He didnā€™t even know why I punched him?
ā€œNext time I tell you

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