Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Zara Phillips loves two things: her husband Van, and the band she created with her brother. To her, her life is perfect. That is until she discovers that her husband is cheating on her. The paparazzi are relentless, forcing a devastated and heartbroken Zara to stay hidden until the record label demands she shoot a video for the band's new single, driving her out of seclusion.
Levi is focused on his daughters, trying to do what’s best for them. Zara is determined to get away from everyone and everything in Los Angeles. When Levi spills hot coffee on Zara, everything changes. Two heartbroken people collide from opposite worlds--neither knowing who the other is, yet both are intrigued by one another.
When Levi offers her sanctuary at his home in Nashville, Zara jumps at the opportunity to disappear… with the hopes that Levi will come with her. What transpires next are the lives of two very different people finding their path along a bumpy and unforgiving road, while being tested by their loved ones, the media, and an ex that doesn’t plan to go away quietly.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
zara
One
You’re never prepared for that moment. It could be anything from finding out you’re pregnant or learning that your band, the one you’ve been in since you were seventeen, has just been nominated for a Grammy. I wish my moment were one of those, but unfortunately, mine comes in the form of finding out my husband of ten years, Van Phillips, has been having an affair.
And how does one find this out? Well, if you’re me, you walk into your publicist’s office to find your husband banging her assistant. I mean I’m happy that it’s not my publicist bent over her desk with my husband pounding into her because that would really ruin my day.
There is no recovery for something like this. Even as I stand here with my mouth open with tears streaming down my face, nothing fixes this. Not the look of regret that he gives me as he pulls out of her and quickly stuffs himself back into his pants. Not the “oh shit” look she flashes as she hurries to fix her skirt, making me wonder where the fuck her panties are.
You’re not prepared when your publicist actually walks into her office oblivious that two people were just fucking on her desk and she asks if you’re ready to get to work on your next tour.
What the fuck does someone do in this situation? There isn’t a handbook on how to handle your husband when he gets caught cheating, let alone when you find out he has been unfaithful, although there should be because it seems to happen more often than not in Los Angeles. It’s clear that I should’ve taken some classes on how to handle my emotions by the death glare he’s given me. It’s as if I’m supposed to “man up” and pretend as if nothing has happened. Like I am somehow at fault here.
Unfortunately, that is exactly what I do because I’m moving on autopilot, still trying to decipher if what I saw was real or an optical illusion because I can’t fathom why my husband would cheat on me. It’s not like we don’t have a healthy sex life. In fact, he had no qualms taking care of my needs this morning. Apparently, I didn’t take care of his, though.
I take one of the two seats in front of Laura’s desk, cringing when she sets a pile of folders in the spot where my husband had her assistant bent over, the same one who is now scurrying away to fetch coffee. Not that I would drink anything she hands me because for all I know, she’s trying to kill me so she can have my cheating-ass bastard of a spouse all to herself. Newsflash, Trina. . . Trisha. . . Tanya, whatever the fuck her name is. . . she can have him. As far as I’m concerned this is unforgivable, and the fact that he’s sitting down next to me as if nothing has happened makes my skin crawl.
Oh God, he fucking smells like her cheap ass perfume too. I pretend to gag. Except I’m really gagging since my stomach is doing its own version of gymnastics and I have a feeling that I’m about to lose my breakfast all over Laura’s desk any second now. I lean away and not so subtly move my chair farther from him. He reaches out to touch me, but I glare at him. I throw so many daggers that I’m imagining each one hitting him square in his chest. He must understand that I don’t want to be fucked with right now because he pulls his hand away.
That is until the tart walks back in with two cups of coffee. Laura doesn’t look up from the paper she’s reading when her mug is set on her desk, but my husband, he fucking perks up like this bitch is his only means to feed his caffeine addiction. And because I am living in some alternative universe, she has no qualms about brushing up against his arm and making sure he can see her tits when she unnecessarily bends over to give him his coffee.
“That’s it, I’m out of here,” I say as I stand up.
Laura looks up quickly, she’s confused, and rightly so.
“Sit down, Zara,” Van has the nerve to say. I can’t even be bothered to look at him so I look at Laura and smile as best I can because right now shit hurts inside and all I want to do is break down and cry.
“I walked in a few minutes early for our meeting and found Van and your assistant fucking on your desk. You might want to sterilize it and find a new assistant because if you don’t, I’m walking.”
I don’t need Laura to say anything. The wide eyes and open mouth are enough for me to know that I’ve shocked her. Behind me, I can hear Van yelling my name, but he’s not following me. No, he chose to stay back with the bimbo instead of getting up and chasing after his wife to tell her how sorry he is and that what he did was a mistake. But I know better. I could tell by the look on his face that he was only sorry that he didn’t get to finish before he got caught.