Text Appeal Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
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Love enters the chat in this hilarious, heartfelt rom com by New York Times bestselling and Audie award-winning author Kylie Scott.

Romance author Riley Cooper always dreamed of living by the water. But within a day of landing in the charming seaside town of Port Stewart to work on her latest book, she's getting calls and texts for some dude on her new number. Weird ones. Sad ones. Sexy ones. Ones that make her want to meet him. For curiosity's sake...if nothing else.

After years of being on-again, off-again with his high school sweetheart, all Connor wants is to move on with his life. If only everyone in Port Stewart would let him. What he needs is to be seen with someone else. So when fate puts him in the path of the new girl in town who got his old number, faking it together seems like the perfect solution.

Spending time with the gorgeous former prom king might be great research for Riley’s romance writing…if only she can keep her feelings in check. But the more she gets to know him, the harder she’s falling. Can their serendipitous meeting turn into something real and true?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PLAYLIST

Blue Moon by Billie Holiday

When We’re High by LP

LEVII’S Jeans by Beyoncé, Post Malone

Lovely Day by Bill Withers

Lady Blue by Emily Wurramara

Umbrella by Rhianna, Jay-Z

HONEY (ARE YOU COMING) by Måneskin

We Are Never Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

ifyoulikeitlikethat by MAY-A

Good Days by SZA

Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt

Casual by Chappell Roan

Chemical by Post Malone

Into the Mystic by Van Morrison

CHAPTER ONE

If I hadn’t been bored and lonely, I’d never have answered the text. But I sent out my new number hours ago and only three people responded. My mother, a guy I’d ghosted, and Grandpa. He sent a fire emoji. It’s his answer to everything: Dad sharing his recipe for apple and walnut salad, Cousin Charlie and their partner getting engaged, Great Uncle Doug dying in his sleep… No one knows for sure what he thinks it means, but it enriches the family chat to no end.

But back to me and my sad state. My body might be worn out from hauling my belongings up three flights of stairs (boo to the broken elevator), however, my mind is wide awake. Though that’s not unusual. Insomnia sucks.

Time to check my cell for the hundredth time. There were so many promises to keep in touch from my various friends and acquaintances, but they’re not responding. They’re probably out hitting the bars before heading to brunch in the morning, as per usual. Every weekend at home is the same. Heck. Every day is the same. Which is why, despite being allergic to change, I have made the move from a city in the desert to a small town on the coast.

All my life I’ve dreamed of living by the sea. Most of my childhood was spent watching The Little Mermaid, SpongeBob SquarePants, and The Blue Planet. And to think—it only took me twenty-nine years to get my shit together. While the fantasy was a lighthouse shrouded in mist sitting above a jagged coastline, an apartment on Main Street also works. The lease is for three months. More than enough time to figure out if I belong in the Pacific Northwest.

Like any self-respecting small town, things quiet down after nine when the restaurants close. Though some bars stay open, since it’s Saturday. Two hours from the nearest city, there’s no hum of traffic. But there are still many new noises to distract me and keep me from settling in. The salt wind racing past the big old brick building. The faint strains of jazz music coming from a neighbor’s apartment. And the delightful chime of my cell receiving a text.

Unknown: You can’t just ignore me. We need to talk.

Me: Wrong number.

Unknown: C’mon, Connor.

Me: No one named Connor here. You have the wrong number.

Unknown: Stop lying to me. We’ve known each other too long for this shit.

Me: But not long enough for him to give you his new number, apparently.

Unknown: Ouch. No. I don’t believe it. There’s no way you’d give up boobs.

Me: Boobs?

Unknown: The last five digits of the number. 80085

Me: Ha. I hadn’t noticed.

Unknown: He’s had it since high school. It was his juvenile pride and joy.

Me: Maybe he finally outgrew it.

Unknown: Hang on. You’re his new girlfriend, aren’t you?

Me: No again.

Unknown: I don’t believe you.

Me: Okay.

Unknown: You admit it?

Me: Nope. Just acknowledging that being wrong is a choice you can make. It’s your life.

Unknown: Giving you his cell and getting you to deal with me sounds about right. The last time we spoke he was not happy. Do you make him happy?

Me: I don’t even know him.

Unknown: I don’t believe you. Things have changed. Tell him I need to talk to him.

Me: He still isn’t here.

Unknown: I wouldn’t give him the cell either if I was you.

Me: When did you two last actually talk?

Unknown: Christmas.

Me: Yikes. That’s months. The relationship sounds broken. Have you thought about putting it in a bag of rice?

Unknown: Very funny. Time for another drink. Hotel mini bars are the best. I don’t usually get to meet his female friends. Guess I should introduce myself.

Unknown: Hi. I’m Ava. What’s your name?

Hmm. Logic would suggest I block her and move on with my life. As sad, pathetic, and sleepless as it might currently be. However, writers are notoriously nosy creatures. Especially when it comes to relationship drama, and I write romance.

Me: Riley.

Ava: Nice to meet you. Sort of.

Me: I don’t know your story, but is he worth all the angst?

Ava: You haven’t heard about me? Are you new to Port Stewart?

Me: You’re from Port Stewart?

Ava: Yeah. Born and bred. Connor and I were high school sweethearts and we’ve been on and off ever since.

Me: How long is that now?

Ava: Fifteen years. Are you planning on staying in town?

I hesitate again. It’s one thing to exchange nonsense texts with a random stranger. However, giving details about my life and location doesn’t feel safe. Not that she has asked me anything which might identify my new address. The conversation just seems weird suddenly. Weirder. You would think area codes cover a decent distance. What are the odds these people would be local?



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