Read Online Books/Novels:
Red Hot Winter
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
August is bitter and cold.
Winter is hot and sultry.
A blowout fight between Winter and her dad sends her straight into August’s waiting arms.
The two are an explosive combination whenever they’re together. August antagonizes and Winter pushes back. Under all the hate burning between them is an attraction so intense, neither can ignore it.
It’s only a matter of time before it consumes them both.
|Books by Author:|
My daughter Callie chatters on the other end of the line, praising me for being such a good father. For always doing the right thing. Guilt niggles inside me, but I quickly ignore it. There’s no room in my world for guilt.
Aside from my daughter, the only thing I have room for is hate and fury bubbling up inside me. My ex-wife, Jackie, Callie’s mother, is responsible for my rage. She lit the match and tossed it in the gasoline when she decided to not only shack up with my best friend Tony, but to then marry him too. It’s been two years since our bitter divorce and I still get pissed as fuck whenever I think about it.
“She’ll be there after school,” she says, dragging me from my angry thoughts. “I have cheer practice and then I’m going to dinner with Landon, Lauren, and their dad. Do you think you can handle it okay?”
I reach over and grab my tumbler full of whiskey as I stare out the giant windows of my sleek, modern condo that overlooks downtown. It’s the first day of December and it’s snowing. I hate the damn snow. I hate the holidays. I hate fucking everything. “I can handle her fine.”
Back when Tony and I were friends, I thought his daughter Winter was a cool kid. She loved my daughter like a sister and didn’t cause too much trouble. The girl wasn’t on my radar. When the divorce went down, I avoided any and all situations that involved Tony so I didn’t accidentally ram my fist through his nose. But now? Now, Callie says Winter is in trouble at home and needs a place to stay. At first, I’d been adamant about telling my daughter no. Then, the more I thought about it, the more a plan developed.
I’ll piss her off. Rile her up. Tell her what a piece of shit her dad is. Send her back to them with her tail between her legs. It makes me a dick, but I don’t care. They fucking deserve it.
I sip my drink and then smile. “I said I can handle her fine.”
“I want you to try to be nice, though,” she says softly. “I know things are strained with you and her dad, but please don’t take it out on her.”
“I would never,” I say through clenched teeth. Lies. I’m dying to taunt and terrorize her. Just because I can.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she responds, amusement in her voice. “Luckily, she can handle her own. I’ll call tomorrow to see how it went. Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, kid.”
We hang up and I drain the rest of my whiskey. I came home early from the office for this shit. Once I rise from my white leather chair, I inspect my space with scrutiny. This new condo I was forced to buy after the divorce is perfect for a bachelor like myself. My wife got the house, kept the kid, and moved that motherfucker into my bed. I could have fought for it considering she was the unfaithful one, but there was no way I could stomach being in that house ever again.
So I gave it up and got this two-bedroom condo that cost twice as much as my old house. I went through a bit of a phase where I bought whatever the fuck I wanted because I could. Because I deserved it for enduring what Jackie had put me through. My car is ridiculously overpriced, but I love it. At forty-one, I’m going through some midlife crisis bullshit that was set into motion because of Jackie’s whorish ways.
I crack my neck and stalk through the house. Everything is white and clean. Not a pillow moved out of place. The door to Callie’s room when she comes stays closed because she’s a bit of a mess maker. I let her do her thing behind the door, but the rest of the condo remains immaculate.
The doorbell rings and a sliver of anticipation courses through me. Most men would take issue with terrorizing a sweet, innocent little eighteen-year-old girl. I’m not most men. I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
When I swing the door open, all the anticipation deflates like a balloon. A woman with dark bottle-dyed red hair in a black beanie has her head tilted down as she rummages around in her purse. Her shirt is low-cut and her perky tits are on full display despite the fact it’s snowing outside. The black leather jacket she’s wearing is tight and stylish, but I don’t understand how it keeps her warm from the cold. She wears a pair of skinny jeans and some UGGs just like Callie made me buy her a few weeks ago.
I try to flip through all the Tinder dates I’ve had over the past few months to see if she’s been one of them. Certainly not my type or anyone I’d willingly choose. I might have swiped right for her tits, though. Did we fuck? Is she back for round two? Disgust ripples through me. I wasn’t this man before my divorce. I was fucking happy and loyal. Now, I just drift from woman to woman, unable to let go of my anger long enough to let one get close to me. I fuck and run. They never get a round two.