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Finding Their Rhythm
Finding Their Rhythm
Finding Their Rhythm
Ebook64 pages41 minutes

Finding Their Rhythm

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Emilia "Emmie" Waldgrave is sick of being under her father's thumb.

He dangles her trust fund over her head, forcing her to comply with all of his many rules. When he tries to force her to marry a business partner's son, she knows that she needs to make a change.

Enter Ruskin Roman.

Ruskin has been waiting to meet the girl that will one day be his wife. The groupies and other girls who throw themselves at him just because of his band have never interested him and he's worried that he's going to die a virgin.

Then he walks into some deserted dive bar and sees her. That's all it takes and Ruskin knows that he's met his match.

Will Ruskin be able to convince Emmie to take a chance on them before he has to leave for tour?

**Warning: This book is an instalove romance. It's over the top and sweet with a loveable goofball for a hero who knows how to treat his girl like a queen.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherShaw Hart
Release dateMay 19, 2023
ISBN9798223999621
Finding Their Rhythm

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    Book preview

    Finding Their Rhythm - Shaw Hart

    1

    Emmie

    I sit, back ramrod straight, fingers clenched tightly together in my lap as I wait for my father to come join me for dinner finally. I try not to shift as I discreetly look down, checking the time on my watch. 6:48 pm. He’s late, which is nothing new. I let out a small sigh as I roll my shoulders and lean back in my chair, balancing on the back two legs so that I can stare up at the ceiling.

    I’m twenty-one years old and still living at home, under my father’s watchful eye. It’s just the two of us, has been for years, ever since my mother ran off with her personal trainer when I was eight. We haven’t seen or spoken to her since. My father had always been a strict man, but after she left, he became unbearable.

    He’s a control freak, and he has our days, weeks, lives planned out. We eat dinner every night, always together although the time depends on whenever he can pull himself away from work to get home. I need to be made up just in case he brings people home to meet me. I’m expected to be dressed appropriately, my makeup done but not too heavy, and my blonde hair is expected to be pulled up in a bun or chignon at the base of my neck. He even monitors my weight, never letting it get above 120 pounds, which on my 5’7" frame is almost too thin.

    I was sent to the best private all-girls school on the west coast and from there, I went to a private all-girls college. I would have preferred NYU or some other school on the east coast, far away from my father and his strict rules. After graduation, I was forced to move back in with my father in Malibu, so that I could help out around the house and his office and so that he could introduce me to the eligible men whom he deemed worthy.

    I’ve known since I was a kid that I was really just cattle to my dad. I was expected to obey his rules and stay pure so that when the time was right for him to pick my husband, he could assure them that I was a virgin. I guess he thought that would make me better in their eyes. That was also why I was always surrounded by women and under strict surveillance.

    I would have left a long time ago, but my father has something that I need — my trust fund. My grandparents left me a trust fund when they passed but I won’t be able to get it until I turn twenty-three. I’m not sure that I can last two more years living like this but what choice do I have? Who would hire a girl with no prior work experience in this economy? Sure, I have a business degree but I know that even if my father didn’t block everyone from hiring me, my lack of experience would deter most. I wish that I could do something with photography since I love taking pictures but again, I’ve had no actual clients. I just do it for myself.

    My father finally walks in, and I drop my chair back onto the ground quickly, pretending to smooth the skirt of my dress down as he takes his seat at the head of the table. His hair is graying on the sides and there’s a bald spot forming in the back that he’s been trying to cover up for the past year or so. I take in his stern face, the hard lines that always seem to bracket his mouth. I can’t remember the last time that I saw him smile and I watch as his brows draw in as the help brings out our dinner.

    I thank Gloria when she sets my plate down in front of me, but my father remains silent, simply picking up his fork and starting to eat. It’s silent and tense in the dining room; the only sound the clinking of our forks on the plates. We eat

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