I use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “Shit!” he yells. He's trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with. Ugly Love Colleen Hoover Pdf is available here. You can easily download Ugly Love Colleen Hoover Pdf, Ugly Love Colleen Hoover Pdf by. 1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover's heart-wrenching love story proves that attraction at first sight can be messy. When Tate Collins meets.
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Read "Ugly Love A Novel" by Colleen Hoover available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. #1 New York Times bestselling. When Tate Collins meets airline pilot Miles Archer, she knows it isn't love at first sight. They wouldn't even go so far as to consider themselves friends. The only. Colleen Hoover Movie Ugly Love Epub by Antedm, released 05 October stealer free epub college student journal pdf free lightbox photography cards pdf free.
This book was lame a predictable. I expect better from C Hoover. Outstanding 5 By Ddgoldbergs Outstanding!
Yesterday was the day. A one sitting read, some deep breaths and a bunch of worry later No words from any reviewer will prepare you for this heartbreakingly beautiful story. Trust the author. Of course it is. I lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot.
His eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. He drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. The complex contracts with our airline. I also sigh because Cap is the last person who could probably help in this situation.
I balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key Corbin sent me. I insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. I knew that moving in with him would not be good for our relationship, considering how fatherly he acted toward me when we were younger.
However, I had no time to find a job, get my own apartment, and get settled before my new classes started, so it left me with little choice. He had an issue with anyone I dated, all of my friends, every choice I made—even what college I wanted to attend.
Not that I ever paid any attention to his opinion, though. The distance and time apart has seemed to get him off my back for the last few years, but moving in with him will be the ultimate test of our patience.
I wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so I just let it fall to the floor. I take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. I remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. I reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way.
Something warm wraps around my ankle. I freeze. I look down. The drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him.
He makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. I pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. I use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. I release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then I immediately kick the door all the way shut. I pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as I can. I slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.
He called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? Is he gonna help me get my stuff? Let him crash on the couch. Do I need to prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home? He did grab my ankle, though. I hang up with Corbin and open the door. The drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head.
I flip him onto his back and look down at him. He cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again.
How does a person even get this drunk? I retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. I grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. The dining area is open to the living room, but the kitchen is separated from the living room by a half-wall. There are several modern paintings throughout the room, and the thick, plush sofas are a light tan, offsetting the vibrant paintings.
The last time I stayed with him, he had a futon, a beanbag chair, and posters of models on the walls. I think my brother might finally be growing up. I walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator.
I change into a pair of sweats and a tank top, then brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Corbin would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. Corbin has never trusted guys with me, and I blame Blake for that. Blake was seventeen, and I had a huge crush on him for months. One thing led to another, and after several weekends of sneaking around, Blake told me he wanted to make our relationship official.
And boy, did he break it. As much as a fifteen-year-old heart can be broken after the span of a two-week secret relationship. Turned out he was officially dating quite a few girls during the two weeks he was with me.
I found it almost impossible to date in high school until after Corbin finally moved away. As much as I hated it then, I would more than welcome it now. I lived with my most recent boyfriend for more than a year before we realized we wanted two separate things out of life. He wanted me home. I wanted a career. The second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. Or a nightmare.
Immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. He begins to sway, so I throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. Whoever you are. Just go to sleep. I fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away.
I walk to where the throw pillow is and pick it up off the floor. I look down the hallway and back to him, wondering if I should leave him alone in order to give him privacy. My first instinct is to walk away, but for some reason, I find myself oddly sympathetic toward him.
His pain actually appears genuine and not just the result of an overconsumption of alcohol. I lower myself to my knees in front of him and touch his shoulder. His eyes are mere slits and bloodshot red. He wraps it around the back of my neck and pulls me forward toward him, burying his face in the crevice between my neck and shoulder.
Instead, I gently push him back into the couch. I lay his pillow down and urge him onto it.