Missy Johnson is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in a small town in Victoria, Australia, with her husband and her confused pets (a dog who thinks that she is a cat, a cat who thinks he is a dog . . . you get the picture). When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.
Interview with Noah (Hero)
Ashley Suzanne Interviews Noah
Ashley – Alright, I feel like it’s appropriate to do a little Q&A with our boy, Noah. He’s pretty illusive and I want to drag the goods out of him. Y’all good with that? Yeah? Sweet!! Noah? You here?
Noah – Fire away, boss lady. I’ve got a little something to get back to.
Ashley – Calm down, dude. It’s not going to take forever. First question …
Noah – Yes, I’m well endowed.
Ashley – *glares* … no. Just stop. Don’t put words in my mouth.
Noah - *mumbles* I can think of something to put in your mouth …
Ashley – ANYWAY … first question … boxers or briefs?
Noah – Easy. Boxer briefs. Always.
Ashley – I’m gonna go quick now that we have the first one out of the way. Ready?
Noah - *nods*
Ashley – Top or bottom?
Noah – Behind
Ashley – *rolls eyes* Lace or silk?
Noah – Bare
Ashley - *shakes head* Ass or tits?
Noah – Ass man *proudly points to self* next …
Ashley – morning or night?
Noah – Afternoon delight.
Ashley – Bed or sofa?
Noah – kitchen counter
Ashley – coffee or tea? *smirks*
Noah – Coffee. Why’d you stop being fun?
Ashley – Why can’t you answer anything the way I ask it? You wanna be a goof, fine by me, but I don’t have to play along.
Noah – You were a lot more fun when you let me run the show. How about I ask you the questions? See how you like it? Where do you like to write?
Ashley – anywhere you’re not? I’d like to write there. God, you’re impossible.
Noah – you weren’t saying that when I was plaguing your every thought a few months back.
Ashley – you weren’t such an ass back then. You wanted to run the show, but at least you had something to say. Now you’re just pissing me off.
Noah – I love you …
Ashley – If you loved me you’d let me take over for a little while. I’m not asking for much here.
Noah – But you love it when I’m in control. Don’t act like a stuck up snob now. You love it when I’m all in your head, making me give you what I want. You yearn for it.
Ashley – Alright guys, this has been fun. Apparently Noah’s being a bit of an ass. A sexy ass, but ass nonetheless. I hate to cut it short, but maybe his girl’s not been putting out lately. He’s got a little pent up aggression and wants to take it out on me.
Noah – Oh I’ll take it out on you alright. Come here.
Ashley – *runs around table* Oh no you don’t mister. You keep your ass over there. You keep this up, I’m calling her … do you want me to call her?
Noah – I’m sorry *ducks head*. She’s a relentless little shit and she’ll have my balls in a jar before dinner. I love her, I really do, but she can be a real bitch sometimes. I know she’s closed off sometimes and it’s hard for her to let people in, but she’s a really good person. I wish more people knew her like I did.
Ashley – I know she’s a sweetheart once you get past the cool exterior. They’ll give her a chance and by the time they’re done reading your story, I’m sure they’ll love her. And they’ll know that her heart was in the right place. Loyalty like hers is hard to find these days. Maybe that’s why they don’t like her so much.
Noah – yeah, or she’s just a bitch. Either way, I love the hell out of her.
Ashley – Well, then go get your girl. Why are you still sitting here with me.
Noah – Fine. I’ll catch up with you later.
Ashley – Bye *waves* tell Zara to call me soon. I miss that mouthy little shit.
What happens when you start falling for your worst enemy? Fans of Abbi Glines and Monica Murphy will relish this addictive novel of smoking-hot seduction—and revenge gone so wrong, it’s right.
I wasn’t always this jaded. I had a clear head, things I wanted out of life, and a concise plan on how to get there. For being only twenty-one, I pretty much had it all figured out. Until the day my cousin died.
I spent months going over all the details surrounding her death, trying to figure out how I missed the signs, and the only thing I could come up with was she would still be alive if it wasn’t for one person: her professor. So I transferred to his college, enrolled in his class, and set my new plan in motion.
First I’ll seduce him. Then I’ll ruin him. I’ve just got to stay strong and not let his charm and my emotions get the best of me. Because someone has to pay for her death. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to break Noah.
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The moment the clock strikes two, the hordes of students quickly file out of the room before I have a chance to dismiss them. Then I see her. Zara. Hamilton. In the front row, perched on top of one of the desks. I know I asked her to stay after class, but I thought she rushed out with the rest of the students.
I had a note in my mailbox early this morning from the counselor, alerting me of a transfer student, and that in itself is extremely odd this far into the quarter. I stared at the name on the form . . . Zara Hamilton. Out of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of kids I’ve taught, this name is one I know I’ll never forget. I wonder if she’s related to . . . I dismiss the thought from my mind no sooner than it entered.
No. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be.
She doesn’t move. She remains seated, and I can’t help notice how sad she looks when she doesn’t have her pen to paper. I’m usually able to separate myself from my students, keep it on an impersonal level, but something about her draws me in . . . I want to help her.
Her wit is outstanding. Most girls her age are . . . boring. Not because they’re not popular or don’t have things to talk about, but because they’re obsessed with college things, as they should be, but Zara . . . I can already tell she’s different from the others. Usually, the juniors in this class fight me tooth and nail about reading classics. She said she’s read Pride and Prejudice numerous times. And she does it for the simple enjoyment of disappearing into a great book. It makes me want to hold actual conversations with her, find out more about . . . her.
After she leaves, I sit at my desk, thoroughly going through her file, trying to learn as much as I possibly can before class tomorrow. There has to be something more to her—anything that will tell me why she appears so lost. I also need to know for sure that there is no connection between her and . . . I laugh and shake my head. God, I can’t even say her name anymore. It’s been a year and I still can’t bring myself to say her name.
She said she was an army brat. There isn’t much to go on inside the file I was given, so I log into the admin files and I search her family history, All seems to be in order. I really thought that maybe her father was injured or killed in action. I quickly glance over the admission essay she was required to submit and she states that her older brother is on active duty, but again, being from a military family, that’s the most normal thing I’ve read thus far. The only thing that seems off to me is that she’s shown up nearly two weeks after the quarter’s started.. Not that it doesn’t happen, but most students wait until the beginning of a new term. She’ll transfer the credits she’s accumulated in the past few years, but they appear to be prereqs to get into a law program, not to study English or literature. There’s nothing in her file that should make me suspicious, but I am. I have to be, because I know all too well how easily things can crumble right in front of me. My gut’s rarely wrong, and the signals it’s sending . . . yeah, something’s off.
Why would someone just switch her major? She was receiving exemplary marks, attended classes regularly, and had an application submitted to Northwestern by the deadline, but she didn’t show up until after classes had been in session for a few weeks. It just doesn’t add up, especially since she appears to be intelligent. What could have caused her to drastically change her life? The better question is how the hell does she support herself? She applied for student housing and was approved, but didn’t show up to claim a dorm until a few days ago after the rooms had been filled. That’s not even enough time to be fitted for a work-study program or to find a decent job. Without student housing, where does she live? Something’s certainly wrong here.
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