Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Eight E-Book

Julie Steimle

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Selena has blackmailed Rick Deacon to be her society escort--starting with the Christmas Ball at the Plaza Hotel. And though Rick tries to do his part, he has no idea why Selena chose him out of all the people in Junior League and Gulinger Private Academy. Especially since he is 3 years younger than her. For she, who is a sneaky and manipulative siren, must have some ulterior motive. But even Selena is not prepared for what will take place at that Christmas ball, nor the repercussions it would hold for her or Rick in the years to come.

Leseprobe

Julie Steimle

Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Eight

What a Ball

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

I Don't Want to Wear a Tie

                      ere. Let me fix that tie.”

“Not so tight!” Rick Deacon squirmed, pulling back.

Selena Davenport smacked Rick’s shoulder then brushed off any sign of dandruff. His rust brown hair was perfectly in order. They stood just off to the side of the Terrace Room in the Terrace Foyer of the Plaza Hotel where the Christmas Ball was well underway, giving them sufficient privacy for her to make final adjustments to her date. His hunched and rather sulky posture reminded her as vividly as possible that he was indeed three years younger than she was; something he wanted to make absolutely clear. Though Rick had promised to be her escort to the season’s New York society events, he did it with dragging feet.

“Now,” she reminded him, “I need you to greet my grandparents as civilly as possible. You may not care about representing the Deacon family at this event—your father certainly never comes to these, though I don’t know why—but you are here to be a lifesaver to me. So stand up straight and don’t embarrass me.”

He rolled his eyes. “I still don’t see why you want me to be your date at this thing. I’m too young for this crowd. Everyone here will think you dragged in a kid.”

The curvaceous, Mediterranean-type debutante pressed her plump lips together in an amused smirk. Yes, he was only thirteen, nearing his fourteenth year ever so slowly, but despite his impetuous and often childish clinging to boyish games, he could not be taken for naïve. In fact, since the first moment she set eyes on him, she had been impressed by how sober-minded he was, how mature in essence he stood. No one would see him as a kid.