Sarah Ziemann

17%
Flag icon
A slow smirk spreads across my face, and yet another deep sigh escapes her. Her shoulders drop an inch. The girl knows already what I’m about to say. We’ve only been here for an hour and ten minutes. I got her for another fifty. “Chinese or pizza?” “I’m not hungry.” “Pizza or pasta?” “I’m not hungry.” “You’re a damn liar. Your stomach’s been growling for twenty minutes. Did you eat at all today?” She’s still that pale girl she was, but sometimes she looks like she’s rested and other times she looks like she was partying all night, and hell, maybe she is. “Not that it’s your business, but yes, ...more
Dirty Curve
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview