by Logan Chance
SAVE ME: Official Blurb coming soon.
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PROLOGUE TO STUDY ME:
(Unedited and subject to change)
Houston:
Two assiduous years of teaching Anatomy to snot-nosed college kids aspiring to become doctors.
They don't know what it means to be a doctor. The meticulous, nitty-gritty of it all. They are spoiled rich kids. Sent to NYU to live out their parent’s dream of becoming a successful doctor.
Little do they know the truth of such dreams. Little do they know dreams are a mirage, and eventually you wake up.
It is my job to make them understand life doesn’t always work out as you plan. Life is a tricky bastard.
I am the most feared professor in all of NYU. My students loathe me. They sit in their chairs with their Polo’s and Hilfiger apparel, in fear of getting to close to the monster they know me as.
I love it. I love making their puny lives miserable.
They don’t deserve to be doctors, if they can’t pass my course.
The moment anyone steps foot into my classroom, they must prepare to work their privileged asses off. And then some.
I don’t care when they cry to me about the extra workload. I don’t care they gossip about me being a terrible man who never gets laid. I don’t care about any of it. At the end of the day, I go home, drink my whiskey and laugh at their pathetic attempt of a so-called life.
Until she walks in. Her long brown hair flowing in waves down her back.
Her piercing green eyes, drawing me in with each glance.
Her innocent happiness apparent with every smile she produces. Does she know what she's doing? Sitting near the top row of the auditorium style classroom, giving me a glimpse straight up her short skirt.
Does she know I can see straight up it? Every time she uncrosses her pale legs, Sharon Stone style, she distracts me from teaching my lesson.
So, this semester I’ll make it my mission to bring down the wrath of Professor Houston Dale. I will take her idealistic dream of becoming a doctor and shatter it into a million tiny pieces. She’ll leave New York with tears streaming down her face. Fuck her.
She can take her white, lace panties back to whatever white-picket fence town she’s from. I feel nothing. No shame. No remorse.
I am dead inside, inflicting my misery onto others.
Add Study Me to your TBR: Goodreads
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Logan Chance enjoys the simple things in life. Star Wars, music, and pretty girls. Always in trouble at school, he was made to copy the dictionary while the others played. This began his word fascination.
With a love of words he then realized he loved stringing those same words together to create stories to inspire all.
From Boston, and relocated to Florida, he lives out his days writing, reading, and avoiding the beach.
Not afraid to tell it how it is, Logan is definitely a man of his own.
Nominated for Best Debut Goodreads Author of
2016.
Read on Sold To My Father’s Friend by Cara Chance, available now on Amazon for only 99 cents or FREE on KU.
SOLD TO MY FATHER’S FRIEND by Cara Chance
A door slammed, jarring me, as I lie in my bed on the verge of sleep. I had a busy day tomorrow and needed my so called beauty rest. The house was usually silent this time of night. These were the pitfalls of living with your parents, it was theirs and they could do as they pleased. I had only moved back home a few months ago after a failed attempt at college. My parents were still upset I hadn’t finished my studies, but I needed a break to find myself and figure out what I wanted to do. They called my indecision immature and foolish. I felt it was something I couldn’t ignore.
Shouting dragged me fully awake. I needed to see what was going on. Kicking back the heavy comforter, my feet padded across the plush carpet out into the hallway. Angry voices battling with each other confronted me as I stepped down the spiral staircase leading to the floor below. Dark hair and shadowed eyes were the first thing I saw as I descended further. Who was he?
My father spoke to the mysterious man as I peered around the corner trying not to be seen. Too late. The tall stranger turned his lightly scruffed face to me and his eyes raked over my body, lingering on my pale pink sleep shorts. I tugged on the hem of my white tank, covering the small amount of exposed skin above the waistband. Chills erupted from head to toe under his appraising stare. His chiseled jaw clenched as I entered the room.
“Angelique, go back to your room,” my father demanded.
“What’s going on?” I moved closer to the two men squaring off in the middle of the living room. My father crossed his arms as the mystery man moved to the large leather chair in the corner and sat down. He laughed. My father’s eyes darted to him. “Mr. Landon, is something funny?”
“I didn’t know your daughter was back from college.”
“What difference does it make?” my father asked, glaring at the man.
“Well, this changes everything.”
My father moved closer. “No, it doesn’t.” My father’s voice was stern, the voice he used to reprimand me many times when I was younger.
The man wasn't intimidated, he waved him off with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention to me. His eyes captured mine. Dark and fathomless, pulling me in. I couldn’t tell where the pupils ended and the irises began. The way he looked me over, slow and appraising, made my knees almost buckle. I’d never been stared at like that before. He held a hint of familiarity, but I couldn’t place him. I think I’d seen him before with my father, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“This is my new offer, Mr. Stammer,” he said, not taking his eyes off of me. “You have two weeks to get me the money you owe me. In the meantime, I’ll hold your daughter as collateral.” My eyes widened.
“What?” I said, dumbfounded.
“You mother fucker and you call yourself my friend,” my father shouted.
Mr. Landon stood. His tailored dark suit only added to the foreboding flitting around in my belly. “Pack a few things. You have ten minutes.”
Confused, I glanced at my father who stood dead in his tracks. Was this really happening?
My father’s head lowered in defeat. “Pack your bags, Angelique.”
“You can not be serious. What is going on?” My eyes sought answers, but his tight-lipped response was all I was met with.
He stepped closer, out of Mr. Landon’s earshot. “Do it. You’ll be staying with Mr. Landon. He’s a friend. He won't hurt you.” He ran a hand through his greying dark hair. “Angel, if you don’t do this we’ll lose the house. We’ll lose everything. It’s not ideal, but I promise I’ll find the money.” He glanced back to the man with dark eyes. “Jace, you lay one finger on her and I’ll kill you.”
Jace. I had a name. I’d heard the name many times before. A friend to my father, but now it appeared as if things between them had changed.
He stepped closer to me, his movements stealthy and assured.
He was older than me, but not by much. Early thirties was my guess.
Stopping in front of me, he leaned down. “Go pack your bags. Now,” he whispered against my ear.
My legs shook as I turned away and neared the staircase.
“Jace, I mean it. One finger touches her…”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Mr. Stammer. Don’t forget who you work for.” His voice was deep and commanding, demanding obedience and getting it.
My father backed down and I raced to my room. This couldn’t really be happening. I had work the next few days. How would my absence be explained? The library wouldn’t appreciate me not showing up. Collateral? What kind of money did my father owe this man?
My father had always been involved with the wrong people. I often wondered what his work involved but was told by my mother to keep my nose out of it.
Woul
d this man hurt me?
Grabbing my old cheerleading duffle bag from high school, I packed a few items inside. How long would I be with this man?
Hatred grew inside me as I pulled on a t-shirt and yoga pants.
I decided right then I would not abide to anything he had in store for me. Tying my long dark hair up in a bun, I threw on my tennis shoes and turned slowly around my room. Would I see this room again?
I couldn’t believe this was really happening.
Twenty years old, and I was essentially being sold to my father’s friend.
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