Life in a Rut, Love not Included (Love Not Included series Book 1)
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Authors: J.D. Hollyfield
Tags: #Love Not Included Series, #Book 1
Life in a Rut, Love Not Included
Copyright © 2014 by J.D. Hollyfield
Life in a Rut, Love not Included
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Life in a Rut, Love not Included
is a registered trademark of J.D. Hollyfield.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Cover Design:
Yocla Designs
Edited by:
Michelle Josette
Formatting by
Champagne Formats
Other Books by J.D. Hollyfield
Other Books by
J.D. Hollyfield
Love Not Included Series
Life Next Door,
Book 2
W
AKING UP IS HARD
to do . . . Or wait, is it waking up or breaking up? Either way, I get to do both.
I am at the best part of the most amazing dream of my life. This hot brute of a dream man is working his way up my body, tasting every part of me. I can practically feel myself squirming in my sleep. His hot tongue brushing against my navel is going to make me wake up screaming. My dream man takes his strong hands and works his way up my stomach to grab at my breasts and squeeze. His head dips to my breast and I can feel his breath over my nipple.
Oh god! This is about to get good.
He works his magic on B #1 then transports his sexy mouth to B #2. I arch my back to give him better access. I’m pretty sure if someone is watching me sleep right now, they’ll think I’m having an exorcism.
After his dirty assault on my breasts, he lifts his head and slithers his way up my body. I can feel his gigantic hard self on my belly. Holy rock of a man, he is hard everywhere! The thought that I am about to have some mind-tingling hot and sweaty dream sex is going to send me into oblivion. My brute lover lowers his head and presses his mouth to my neck. I hear him speak my name as he works his way to my earlobe with his lips.
Oh god!
He is sucking on my earlobe. I love that mouth of his . . .”Sarah,” he whispers, and bites sensually on my shoulder. This may be better than any foreplay I have experienced in real life, and I am soon about to explode.
“Sarah . . .” There it is again. My name.
I hear him repeat my name but unfortunately this fantasy is soon becoming a nightmare as I swear his voice is sounding more like my mother’s.
Focus, Sarah.
I attempt to cling onto whatever his name is—no need to exchange real names, as this is in fact only my dream.
“Sarah . . .” There it is again!
Ignore! Ignore! Ignore!
“Stay focused,” my inner voice whispers to me. It’s about time I get this moving along, because I have a feeling things are about to get real, real fast. I wrap my legs around my hunky dream man and attempt to guide him toward my warm spot. I feel his strong arms wrap around me. His soft breath hits my ear, and just as he is about to push home, he whispers, “It’s not you—”
“SARAH! Get up, you’re going to be late to pick up Aunt Raines!”
And Bam!
Reality.
My life.
Once again, I awake to a pitiful reality. My name is Sarah Sullivan and I am stuck in a rut, and it’s called my life. I am thirty-one years old and I have a feeling at some point in my life I may have taken a wrong turn. I can’t even seem to have a dream without it interacting with reality and ruining what “could have been.”
I haven’t always been this pathetic. Up until three months ago, I had a boyfriend, a best friend, a killer job and a beautiful life. I had
purpose.
I had things figured out. Or at least I thought I did. I guess I was a victim of being blind to the world outside my perfect little bubble. It’s scary how easy it is to get so wrapped up in your own bubble of life that you fail to see what’s really going wrong on the outside. Sad to say, apparently everything was going wrong outside of mine.
I mean, geez, where should I start?
Well, I guess we’ll get the most hated out of the way first: the ex-boyfriend. The one and only Mr. Steve Hamilton. Precious Steve Hamilton, Vice President of Marketing—also known as the son of the President/Owner—at Hamilton Corp, the most prestigious advertising agency in Chicago. I would like to refer to him henceforth as the Golden Jerk.
Okay, now that we have his title defined, let’s take a walk down memory lane and see how the Golden Jerk took part in popping my little bubble.
The beginning of the end started seven years ago when my life actually caught that “lucky break” people talk about. Everyone wishes for the day when they finally have everything they’ve ever wished for, and gladly pat themselves on the back for making it happen. That was me. At twenty-four, and semi-fresh out of college, I not only landed a killer advertising job in Chicago, I also landed the gorgeous son of the president of said advertising firm.
Insert Steve Hamilton.
Steve was everything a girl dreamed of. He was tall—an impressive six-foot-two—with broad shoulders, silky blond hair and to-die-for eyes. I can still picture myself staring into those golden-brown eyes, thinking I was the luckiest girl alive.
Gag . . .
Okay, moving on.
Working closely together on projects, Steve and I hit it off in no time. It didn’t take long for him to pursue me and for me to give in, more than willingly. We were dating in a matter of weeks from our first meeting. There was no better feeling than when Steve would put his arms around me and nibble at the baseline of my neck, whisper how much he adored the touch of my skin and how much he loved me. Our personal lives were the same. I had a great apartment with my roommate and best friend, Stacey, and he had an insanely expensive condo in the ritziest neighborhood in downtown Chicago. As it goes, each place had held each other’s toothbrushes, our clothes filled each other’s drawers, and frames scattered around filled with the happiest times of our life together. We were in love. We even got to work together and spend crazy amounts of time with one another and luckily enough, even combine our friend groups. I had a great best friend, which meant now, so did he. Life was perfect.
Yeah, of course, after a while things did slow down a little. But whose relationship doesn’t? Years passed and things grew calm. Steve got a bit more controlling, sure, but who wouldn’t in his position? Being at the top of a company, it was important that he kept appearances. His assertiveness and demands on my looks were always a must. Letting Steve down in a public setting was never an option. If one did not perform, Steve made sure there were consequences. It was hard at times being the girlfriend of the man on top. But no one is perfect. I was still crazy in love with Steve and was always hoping in the back of my mind that one day he would ask me those four special words every girl waits to hear . . . But he never did and I was patient so I continued on with life as usual, maintaining the status quo.