Love & Other Cursed Things Read Online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Categories Genre: Contemporary, GLBT, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 98322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Love & Other Cursed Things

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B09BBSNKGK
Book Information:

From New York Times Bestselling Authors Krista & Becca Ritchie comes a sizzling new contemporary F/F romance set in a coastal town, swimming with secrets, lies, and deep familial bonds.
Never fall in love in a cursed town.
Tourists flock to Mistpoint Harbor to snap photos of the famous lighthouse, browse the Museum of Curses & Curiosities, and claim their “I survived the Most Cursed Town in America!” pin. But for me, growing up in Mistpoint Harbor wasn’t a vacation. Not when locals have a deep-seated loathing for my family.
They hate my dad. They hate my older brothers.
And they hate me--Zoey Durand, the girl who shrunk in high school at the taunts and jeers. Like a sad, wilted flower. If it wasn't for October Brambilla, life would've been a real living hell.
But the moment I could leave my family's disgraced legacy and this cursed town behind, I did. And I vowed to never return.
Until the phone call. My brother is in trouble, and I’d risk just about anything for my family. Even a curse. Even running into October Brambilla, the daughter of the wealthiest, most revered family in all of Mistpoint Harbor.
She is town royalty. I'm town scum. She's a goddess and ice queen. I just want in-and-out.
But she's my total weakness. And she's already been cursed. She wants me gone before I meet the same misfortune. The more she pushes, the more my heart is willing to go up against a stupid old town legend. But my head is telling me to run.
No one returns to Mistpoint Harbor once they leave, and the longer I stay, the more I realize why.
Books by Author:

Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie



CHAPTER 1

Zoey Durand

People always say you can’t outrun a curse, but I’ve been running for six years. So far misfortune hasn’t caught up and dragged me down yet.

But today, I finally stop running.

No one ever really returns to Mistpoint Harbor once they leave. Hell, even I would keep my ass firmly planted in Chicago if I had a choice. Only a handful of reasons could get me to board a plane back home.

When Parry called me last night, all the air suctioned out of my apartment. An invisible rope wrapped around my waist and started yanking and yanking and yanking. Pulling me home.

I have to return.

As I heave a beat-up suitcase out of a Kia’s trunk, the phrase no turning back now is cemented in my core and practically tattooed to my ass, and I realize the Uber driver is standing a foot away, hypnotized by the town sign.

Welcome to Mistpoint Harbor. The Most Cursed Town in America!

I tug, and as the suitcase wheels thunk hard on the cement, he wakes from his stupor and combs a hand through his tousled, chestnut-brown hair.

“Hey, do you know someone who lives in Mistpoint Harbor?” He jabs a thumb towards the cobblestoned pathway. No cars allowed down the main walk of the tiny town center. “I heard the whole ‘curse’ thing is bullshit to drive up tourism. But never had a first-hand account.”

I shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m just passing through.” I don’t love lying, but I better get used to it. I can’t exactly tell everyone the reason I’m back. As Parry said, keep this shit on the low. I mean it, Zoey. Don’t tell Brian or October.

My brother, Brian, is easy to lie to.

But even trying to deceive October is like trying to fool Zoltar. You know, the robotic fortuneteller in the 80s movie Big. October is neither robotic nor psychic, but she can stare through me with unblinking, soul-eating eyes, and I unravel into a fucking mess.

She’s a lot prettier than a robotic dude with a mustache too.

Like a diamond-studded glamazon. Wonder Woman in the flesh.

A Wonder Woman who I can’t lie to. I can’t remember what her gold rope is called: an honesty lasso, a fuck-you, give-me-the-truth weapon? Honestly, I only saw the superhero movie because Wonder Woman is hot—my geek card is mostly swiped in Star Wars lore. But Mistpoint Harbor’s very own Wonder Woman will probably strangle me with the fuck-you, liar rope, so I have that to look forward to.

I try to exhale a mountain of apprehension. The Uber driver frowns at the sign, then back at me. Crestfallen at my declaration. “Well, damn. Thought I’d finally figured it all out.”

I wish I could tell him the real truth. There’s nothing to figure out. It’s a legend—you either believe or don’t—but no one will tell you where to put your faith.

Some people who live in Mistpoint think just like him—it’s all bullshit. A legend created generations ago to attract tourists to the harbor. Others, like me, don’t spit in the face of fate. Some things can’t be properly explained.

Like how Mistpoint has more accidents, more missing persons, deaths, and all-around misfortune than any other port in the country. And yet, it takes a whole unearthly energy to uproot yourself from this town just to leave. I got out when I was eighteen. I almost didn’t go.

Shit, I was a breath away from staying.

Sometimes I wish I did. This town has a magnetic pull, an energy that I don’t understand. Brian, my oldest brother, used to tell me that being born here is like adding another root to the family tree. We’re tangled underneath the earth with the generations before us. Only way to truly leave is to hack yourself away. And when you do that, you leave the ground rotted. You leave the tree decaying.

My stomach churns, and I shake that image from my head.

My hand tightens on the handle of my suitcase. “Thanks for the ride,” I tell the Uber driver.

He closes the trunk. “Don’t forget to rate me. I’m a five-stars kinda guy.” He gives me a wink—and I can’t tell if it’s friendly or flirty. And one thing is for certain, I don’t need to be in a relationship right now. Not even a flirtationship.

Nothing’s worse than falling in love in a cursed town.

So I avoid eye contact and mumble out a noncommittal, “Yeah, definitely.”

He lingers for a second, and I’m quick to casually pull out my cell. I try to manifest my destiny. The one that says leave me alone!

Sure enough, I hear the slight bang of a car door. When I glance back up, the car is peeling away.

I sigh heavily. What the fuck am I doing? I’m back home for zero-point-five seconds and I’m already on edge. Living here is like trying to play whack-a-mole with fate—and I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t like to go down with any ship. I will jump overboard and swim my way to shore before an ocean tries to drown me.


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