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Read Online Books/Novels:

Drunk on You (Hope Town #4)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Harper Sloan

Book Information:

It was supposed to be fun.
A mutual use of each other’s bodies.
To be a ruse to the world around us.
I wanted to be free from my ex, and he wanted to escape his.

One drunken night turned a joke into a life-changing moment.
He warned me not to fall for him, and I should’ve listened.

He intoxicated me.
He made me crave him.
He ruined me.
In the end, I’ll never be the same.

Books in Series:

Hope Town Series by Harper Sloan

Books by Author:

Harper Sloan Books


I’m not going to just snap either. It’s going to be so glorious; it’ll put the Britney Spears head shaving incident of 2007 to shame.

For real.


I should’ve seen the giant pile of hot mess coming today, seeing how it started and all—with the ex who just won’t stay gone. And if I’m being honest, I probably should have just parked my butt at home and watched HGTV on repeat.

Each one of my kids can tell I’m in a mood, as much as I hate to admit that, but there is just no shaking it at this point. I stupidly thought I would be able to at least shake it off for the kids—all twenty-two of them—but no, not even the best kids in Hope Town can make me happy today. Usually, all it takes is stepping foot in my classroom, and I’m instantly happy—but no matter how big of a dream job I have teaching twenty-two of the cutest second graders around, they’re just adding to the stress of what has become my day.

See, even with ignoring the whole before I got to work part of my day, there hasn’t been a single hour during school that hasn’t been a challenge. Bobby Lords showed up with a stomach bug, which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal … until he threw up all over his desk and Stacey Johann’s lap. Not being able to handle the vomit erupting from the desks near her, Laurel Matison went all exorcist meets angry Kardashian and threw up not only on herself but also the two girls standing near her.

If two puking kids, more surface area than I care to remember being covered in vomit, and the lingering scent left over from allll of that wasn’t enough, lunchtime surely had been the tipping point.

And the return of the whole dang reason I’m in such a mood.


My very, very ex-boyfriend. Only, it seems he was the only one who didn’t get the memo about us being over. It’s been like this for months; ever since I caught him cheating on me over a year ago—and ended it—for whatever reason, Seth recently decided he doesn’t want to accept that I really do mean done. And by done, I mean I hope he plays in traffic.

“Come on, Nik,” I grumble to myself, tidying up my desk before pumping out some hand sanitizer. With one last disgusted look at where the puke party of 2017 happened earlier today, I all but run out of my classroom to the faculty parking lot.

Thankfully, Seth decided not to corner me as I left the school. Small favors, that jerk. Why couldn’t he give me the same respect this morning when he showed up at my apartment or when he showed up at the school office wanting to have lunch with me?

I grab my phone and make quick work of shooting off a text to my best friend, Ember Reid, letting her know I’ll be ready for our weekly wine Wednesday a little later than normal—the last thing I want to do is take my foul mood out on Em.

Saying a silent prayer that Seth has stopped his stupid quest and won’t be waiting at my place, I take a heavy breath and put the car in drive to head home for a bath and reboot before my date with Ember. In all honesty, I have a feeling that if he is there, I might be starring in the real Orange is the New Black instead of that promising bath.

Thankfully, by the time I get home thirty minutes later, luck appeared to have shifted to my side. There wasn’t any sign of his SUV being here when I pull into my complex parking, no weird notes taped to my door begging me to forgive him, and—best of all—no sign of Seth whatsoever popping up like a poorly placed Where’s Waldo. I know it’s too good to be true. I’m not stupid enough to believe that today is suddenly going to be the day he buys a clue, but I’m hoping I at least get a little break from his annoying stalking.

I place my schoolbag by the door, rolling my eyes when I realize I dragged it home even though I do not intend to work on my lesson plans at all tonight. My schoolbag—it’s huge. You never know when you’re going to need something, and on top of the bits and pieces of random things I may need, it holds all my planning and grading books, laptop, and the huge container of fish food I forgot to leave at school. Basically, it’s heavier than I care to lug around. Big boobs give me enough back, neck, and shoulder pain without adding a million-pound tote bag.

The ringing of my cell has me pausing halfway to my bathroom. I had just started pulling my top off, so I rip it the rest of the way off and jog back to my bag. Grabbing my phone, I answer with a breathy hello.

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