Perfectly Scripted
Perfectly Scripted
by Christy Pastore
Disclaimer. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement.
Warning:
Please note this novel contains explicit sexual content and crude language and is intended for mature audiences. Some subject matter may be difficult for persons who have been victims of rape or abuse. Parental/reader discretion is advised.
All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with others please purchase a copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
©Cover Design and Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations
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Cover Image ©bart78
Editor: Mickey Reed
http://www.mickeyreedediting.com/p/freelance-editor.html
Proofreader: K. Donald
Publication Date: November 16
th
, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-9907099-4-7
Perfectly Scripted (The Scripted Series, #2)
Copyright ©Christy Pastore 2015
All rights reserved
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“With each passing day I was falling deeper into his world.”
I’d never believed in fate until the moment I kissed Ronan Connolly. And even though it could have been my emotional undoing, there was nothing I could do to stop the whirlwind of excitement and thrilling days that followed.
Pushing me. Pulling me. Throwing me deeper and deeper into him.
Into us
.
We’d spent a week secluded inside the four walls of the posh York Hotel Penthouse sharing our deepest secrets and engaging in our most primal desires. The longer I stayed, the further I fell.
There was no turning back, and I was left with only one realization – that he was the one for me.
Back in the real world, Ronan and I had settled into our new life together as a couple. We were done overcoming jealous exes and lingering scars. But, when reminders from the past come flooding back, new secrets are revealed, shattering the trust we worked so hard to achieve.
Fate brought us together.
Passion ignited our souls.
Love gripped our hearts.
That same explosive combination perfectly conspired to tear us apart.
Perfectly Scripted is the dramatic conclusion to Ronan and Holliday’s steamy love story that began in unScripted.
MATURE CONTENT
This story contains sexually explicit material and is intended for mature individuals over the age of eighteen.
This one is for all the fan girls. Thank you for allowing me to share Ronan and Holliday’s story with all of you. The fairytale exists— don’t be afraid to fight for it.
“
Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything.”
~ Katharine Hepburn
Two and A Half Years Ago
California
Holliday
For the third day in a row, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain. Outside my window, the sullen, dark-grey clouds blanketing the sky perfectly complemented my depressed mood. I eased out of bed, clutching my ribs, which were still sore from the attack.
The attack. The rape. The assault that had nearly taken my life.
This morning’s pain was slightly less than recent days— a pounding headache, stiffness in my back, and aching muscles in my arms and my legs. Standing in front of my mirror, I was relieved to see that the areas around my nose, my cheeks, and my eyes appeared less swollen. The bruises, however, were still gross, having turned from a dark blue to a sickly yellow green.
I stared at my reflection, contemplating taking the shears or Perry’s razor to my long, blonde hair and giving myself a makeover—the Britney Spears kind. On second thought, better not. Mom would surely have me committed in a flash.
After grabbing my medication, I padded downstairs to my parents’ kitchen and poured a glass of water. The bandages between my thighs itched like crazy. I wanted to rip them off and scratch the hell out of my burnt skin.
Swallowing the pills, I wondered how much longer this would be my daily routine. Then I placed the glass on the side of the sink, where my gaze fell to the note on the counter.
