How to Belong with a Billionaire (Arden St. Ives #3)

by Alexis Hall

Shown me how to fly, then pushed me through a window.

You had to look like the sort of person who worked at a high society lifestyle magazine. Not posh, exactly, but as if you knew what you were doing fashion-wise. Thankfully, I’d emerged from the womb serving manic pixie dream queer.

There were people around and cars on the road, so I had no reason to feel threatened. Which I didn’t really—just fucked with and prodded at and imposed upon.

Holy shit. This was basically the bit in a Mafia movie where all the characters started pointing guns at each other and yelling. I mean, apart from the guns and the yelling. We were too British for that.

Love isn’t a bus during the rush hour. You don’t have to let people off in order to fit more on.

What? Oh no. I hope there’s a special place in hell reserved for people who say “Tell me about yourself.” Maybe not right in Satan’s arsehole with the betrayers, but pretty damn near it. Satan’s taint? Just behind his balls, where it’d be all sweaty with hellfire.

but when it comes down to the colours of your dreams, and whatever makes your heart fly, and the things that really matter, you always get to choose.” “Choose what?” “What you take with you and what you leave behind.” I let out a shaky breath. “Because that’s all change is.”