by Lyla Payne
“Okay, Sof. Thanks for understanding.” I barely had the chance to hear Anne—who sounded distinctly like she was smirking—say, “Happy Birthday, Sof!” before I’d hung up on the assholes.
Whatever made me happy was going to be whatever did the best job of teaching him not to pull that kind of shit again. I had dialed our backup pilot.
“Trevor, how soon could you get me and thirty of my closest friends to Paris? Yes, of course we’ll pay extra for a bigger plane. Daddy said I could do whatever I wanted.”
It took all my poise and control not to smirk at the memory.
“Sofia Elizabeth! Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course, Daddy. I’m just remembering what you told me—I should do something nice for myself. That’s what I did.” I cocked my head, made my eyes droop at the corners, and edged in a little shrug for good measure.
“Well, you put a considerable dent in my investment income for the year while doing it. A months’ worth. So, in the end, you’re not really doing anything nice for yourself because it’s my money that funds your little indulgences.”
The suggestion that I couldn’t have whatever I wanted forced my eyes into dark, narrow slits before I could invoke my poise. It was unfortunate that I had lost my cool, but this was serious.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve rethought your study plans for your freshman year. It would have cost me half a million dollars to fund your entire college education, and since you spent that on a single birthday party, I’ll have to cut back a little bit.”
My stomach went sour. I felt like I was slipping backward down a hill through disgusting, smelly mud, reaching for the Eiffel Tower at the top. Studying in Paris was a given. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that…
“Hi, honey.”
My eyes snapped up to the door of Dad’s office as it swung open underneath Anne’s unpolished nails. She was the wife of a millionaire and she couldn’t even get a goddamn manicure. I hated the middle-aged ladies who primped and preened and tried to look like they were still twenty, but I hated Anne’s flowy tunics and simple makeup even more. It was a waste of her natural beauty, which even I had to admit was apparent. Her pixie cut framed high cheekbones and big brown eyes, and those tunics only showed a hint of her slim, yet curvy frame. But not to even bother with your nails? It was like she didn’t care how she looked, didn’t care what people thought.
I couldn’t tell her to call me Miss Cole. She was the missus.
Purchase First World Problems
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m so blessed to write books for a living. The first people I want to thank are my readers, because without you my dreams would never have come true, and would not still be coming true every single day. Thank you for reading, for your excitement, your enthusiasm, and your support. I could never express with words how much it all means to me.
This particular book came to fruition with the help of my lovely critique partners—Leigh Ann Kopans, Denise Grover Swank, and Angi Black—their advice and feedback made Sebastian and Audra’s story better, and for that I am forever grateful. To Bethany Reis, thank you for your insightful and sharp copy edit. I enjoyed working with you and am sure we’ll have a chance to do it again in the future.
I tried something new with the cover for Living the Dream and hired a brilliant photographer and models to stage a shoot. Mikel Anne Arnce—you have a brilliant eye, an excellent work ethic, and a sweet heart. I thank you for sending me so many beautiful choices. And to the cover models, Lainey and Brian Good, thank you for bringing Sebastian and Audra to life. You managed to capture not only their stunning faces (and that HAIR, Lainey!), but their personalities as well. To Eisley Jacobs at Complete Pixel—you do so much more for me than simply create lovely covers, and I appreciate all of it.
To all of the people in my life who play supporting roles that make everything else possible—my agent, my critique partners, my Twitter friends, my in-real-life friends, my sister, and of course, my fella—I know I take advantage of you all sometimes when I forget to call, ignore your texts messages, snap at you to leave me alone with my laptop, or make you smell me when I don’t have time to shower. I know, and I love you for loving me anyway.
Last, to the kids at Whitman University. You’ve lived in my head for almost three years now and even though I’m the one who gave you the chance to play out your lives on the pages, getting to know you has changed my life. So, thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lyla Payne has been publishing New Adult romance novels for a little over a year, starting with Broken at Love and continuing with the rest of the Whitman University series. She loves telling stories, discovering the little reasons people fall in love, and uncovering hidden truths in the world around us – past and present. In her spare time she cuddles her two dogs, pretends to enjoy exercising so that she can eat as much Chipotle as she wants, and harbors a deep and abiding hope that Zac Efron likes older women. She loves reading, of course, along with movies, traveling, and Irish whiskey.
If you want to know more, please visit her at http://lylapayne.com
If you’re a fan of Young Adult fiction—science fiction or otherwise—please check out her work that’s published under the name Trisha Leigh. http://trishaleigh.com
