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Twists and Curves
Twists and Curves
Twists and Curves
Ebook79 pages51 minutes

Twists and Curves

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Get started with Twists and Curves, the first part of the Best-Selling Infinite Curves Series, free while the box set edition is on-sale!

Asher is a driven twenty-something with a lot going for her, ivy league educated and pretty—if you like short and curvy. The only thing missing? A guy worth caring about. But when a crisis sends her back to her hometown, she finds herself confronted by her unobtainable high school crush... and her own self-doubts.

What do readers say about the series?

Five Stars! The whimsical writing style is wonderful.Love that she’s top heavy, sexually experienced. Love her whole attitude.
Five Stars! Original! Female character is fun, real, and strong. Story line is believable and interesting. Sex is realistic, well described, and hot.
Five Stars! Sexy. Fast paced. Did I say sexy yet? I will definitely keep this on my bookshelf to re-read.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGulliver Noir
Release dateDec 17, 2013
ISBN9781310103957
Twists and Curves
Author

Georgia Stockholm

I was a tomboy until I was 12.I hated pink, anything girly. I refused to wear skirts and dresses, and I played exclusively with boys. The day I talked my mother into letting me get a crew cut was the happiest day of my young life. At puberty, though, something shifted inside. I still liked boys, but I knew I wasn’t one.As I grew, I fell in love with fashion, costume, things pretty, and things dangerous. I’m still more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than heels and makeup, but there is a time and a place for everything.I’ve always loved to read. I devoured literary classics during the day, while at night, I curled up in my bed under the covers with a flash light devouring every genre imaginable, ending up bleary eyed and unable to focus in class. I was a crummy student.Writing has been my lifelong dream, and great good fortune has afforded me the opportunity to devote myself to it full time, at least for awhile. I really hope you enjoy my work as much as I enjoy writing it.

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    Book preview

    Twists and Curves - Georgia Stockholm

    Twists and Curves

    Twists and Curves

    Infinite Curves Part 1

    Georgia Stockholm

    Twists and Curves

    Book 1 of Infinite Curves Series

    Published by Georgia Stockholm at Smashwords

    Copyright © 2015 by Georgia Stockholm

    Smashwords License Statement

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    Contents

    Twists and Curves

    1. Crossing Paths

    2. From the Side

    3. In from the Cold

    4. Waiting to Breathe

    5. Sitting Together

    Dangerously Curved

    6. Space Girl

    7. Dream Boy

    8. Author's Note

    Contemporary Romance by Georgia Stockholm

    Twists and Curves

    cover of first edition

    Original Cover of First Edition

    1

    Crossing Paths

    T he party starts at eleven. You will attend.

    I sighed. I'd appreciated reconnecting with Gabriel the last few months. He had been my best guy friend in high school, platonic, of course. I had no boyfriends. Gabriel was drop-dead handsome, African-American—and it turned out, gay, as many had suspected but only I had discovered for sure, back in the day. I knew from recent experience that his idea of a good time was loud, drunken, and a little bit dangerous.

    I'm bad at parties, Gabriel. I've told you that, right?

    Uh huh. What if I said Dylan was coming?

    Oh, I said.

    Gabriel laughed into the awkward silence.

    Take a shower, Asher, put on some lipstick, and that little black dress, the low-cut one. And wear something with a heel, so you don't look like a hobbit. Do not wear your homeless person shoes. Do not wear your soviet underwear.

    My sneakers are comfortable.

    It was Gabriel's turn to sigh. We'd had the shoe conversation before. I was missing a gene, he said. You're coming though, right?

    Sure, I said, trying to sound nonchalant. But not because Dylan is going to be there. He probably won't even remember me.

    Huh. So why come? I thought you were bad at parties. Gabriel’s tone was mocking.

    I should practice.

    So you’re not curious about Dylan?

    Party practice, I said. I seek constantly to better myself.

    Gabriel snorted. See you tonight. And seriously, dress up. You're adorable when you try.

    I hung up, feeling itchy, a tiny bit nauseous, and horny, truth be told. I'd given up on my last friends-with-benefits in the city three months back, before ‘The Incident’ that sent me scampering home; those so-called benefits had been entirely one way. I satisfied him, messily and emphatically, I might add, but he didn't do much for me. I gave up faking my own orgasms, to try to get him to try harder. He hadn't risen to the occasion.

    I shook myself. Dylan was going to be at the party.

    It felt strange, being at home again, after five years on my own, my old room, pretty much as I’d left it, had become the physical embodiment of déjà vu. It was a little creepy. Like I’d been cosmically demoted.

    I stepped from the tiny bubble of warmth created by my space heater, shivering as I made my way to my closet. Dad kept the thermostat at fifty degrees to prevent the pipes from bursting. Again. I thanked God for water's expansion when frozen. Dad was cheap in a way that only people who used to be rich can be. It had been crazy, moving back in with him, but I guess I'm cheap, too. At least I'd been able to sublet my apartment in Manhattan.

    I'd bought the space heater, and I agreed to pay Dad an extra fifty dollars a month to run it.

    Rummaging in a milk crate full of memorabilia I unearthed my old high-school stalker-journal, a clothbound book covered in ballpoint pen doodles, geometric patterns tending towards hearts and lightning bolts. Inside were photos, Polaroids of Nameless Band, Dylan’s Band and mostly of Dylan.

    Looking at the photo of the wiry, clean-shaven young man on the beach, shirtless, laughing and horsing around in front of the campfire, did nothing to calm my nerves. I felt those itches, that ache, inside, so strong. I glanced at the clock. It was only seven. I had

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