Novels by Ava hart

KimberlyLet me tell you the story of how I got branded as the Vault Slut.Three years ago, I had everything I could ever dream of. A thriving career. Millions of dollars in the bank. A loving husband. Vault Technologies was being featured in international magazines and tabloids as the role model for emerging startups. Julian and I were launching new products every six months. I was usually the mastermind behind each successful launch but I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I let Julian handle the press conferences and the interviews and the Ted talks.He enjoyed being in the spotlight and I enjoyed doing what made him happy.As the company’s strategic thinker, I had plans for a new product. It was a pet project of mine. One I wanted to launch solo. I had everything down on my system. The product proposal. Estimated cost. Even the legal paperwork.I shared it all with Julian. I expected him to be angry that I was planning to launch a product without him. But he wasn’t angry. If anythi

Kimberly“Take a good look at what your slut staff did to me!” Blondie yells at the top of her voice. Her face is red from the heat of the coffee. She’s definitely going to be scarred for a while. “Is this how you train your work dogs to behave?”Now, She’s trying to blame Nancy for what happened between us. Could this teen-child be any more malicious.“Get ready for me,” she threatens. “I’m going to sue you both for every measly penny you’re worth. My daddy’s a lawyer. I’ll make sure he puts your rundown coffee shop out of business.”“Please,” Nancy begs her. “You don’t have to do any of that. We’re sorry.”“It’s too late to apologize,” Blondie turns to her friend with the camera. “Did you get everything on camera?”She nods and gives her a thumbs up. “Yes, I did. I’m posting it online now.”“No!” Nancy presses her palms together in a pleading gesture. “Please, don’t post it. Tell me… what can I do to make up for this? I’ll do whatever you want.”“I want you to fire her,” blondie poi

KimberlyI’ve aged in the half hour it takes for me to get the ancient coffee machine going. Grease spurts out of the engine. It fills Nancy’s coffee shop with an unpleasant smell, which is fitting for what my life has become.I’m 32 years old now and I’m living a shitty existence in downtown Portland, making equally shitty coffee and waiting tables.The coffee shop was the best I could do on short notice. Three years later, I’m still working there, because no one else would hire me. Not after the scandal. Not after the tabloid posts and the newspaper articles, painting me as the “the ungrateful slut wife, who made a sex tape with another man.”No one cares whether the tape is real or not. There’s nothing a bunch of strangers would gladly believe more than a juicy scandal. At least once a week, a group of customers would come in here to get a coffee and would instantly recognize me. They would whisper, giggle and gossip about the millionaire whore, who had cheated on her loving spouse

KimberlyI was a reckless rebel that summer. It was the summer in which I fell in love with Julian.Julian Rothschild. You must have seen his pictures plastered all over Forbes magazine. Last winter, he was featured in vogue as one of America’s sexiest entrepreneurs. But I digress. You see, before he became such a mega rich sensation, he was just Julian. The black sheep son of Garrett Rothschild, who had blown his trust fund a long time ago and wanted to make a name for himself in the business world.We’d met at a mutual friend’s party in Seattle that summer, six years ago and had fallen in love almost immediately. Worst part of all was how much I enjoyed playing the rebel. So infatuated was I, that nothing else mattered but our love that summer—not even my parents, who were strictly against our relationship. They opposed Julian Rothschild, like he was sick with the plague. Didn’t think him good enough for me. But like a fool, I had fought against them; the tooth and nail kind; compri