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DOLLY: TERMS AND CONDITIONS
publish date:
2026-10-28 19:59:02
Latest chapter
Sweet Spot DOLLY: TERMS AND CONDITIONS
Barely out the gate, and already I can feel this lie spiralling out of control.I didn't plan on a fake relationship when I set out on a run to clear my head. The last thing I need is Oscar and Fiona getting involved.Noah looks as thrown by this as I am. He looks at me."What's wrong?" he asks, brows pulled together. It's funny that even now, with me responsible for half the chaos, it's me he's worried about.I nod at his phone, aiming for nonchalance. "I assume the gossip mill got to your side too?"He nods."Are your parents worried?" I ask nervously when he offers nothing else.He shrugs. "My mum's enthusiastic. She loves you."My heart tightens. A small part of me is giddy that Cassy approves of our fake relationship. A bigger part hates lying to her."I understand if you don't want to lie to her…""Jasmine is furious," Noah cuts in.I blink, blindsided. "Why do you think that?""Because she's called half a dozen times in the past three minutes?" He turns his phone toward me. An
Sweet Spot DOLLY: PLUS ONE
I think my new wolf has taken a liking to Noah. And honestly who can blame her. With every moment that passes, I'm able to better pinpoint what my heat feels like. At least a little bit. When it's not cramps and headaches and nausea, it's a laugid stretching. Like a cat in a sunbeam. It's comforting and maddening at the same. His scent envelopes me, his breath is still warm against my ear when Frank lets us out with promises to keep in touch and keep his lips sealed about our relationship. The last thing we need is this little fib getting back to our folks. The past few minutes has been Frank being nosy as fuck, straining for every drop of gossip he could ringe out of us. Well, out of Noah, since he was doing most of the talking. My brain had short-circuited when he grabbed my waist, so I could only sit pretty while being painfully aware of how close he was. My body resisted my stillness, the small cat urging me to crawl into Noah's laps. Noah keeps his hands on me as we leave
Sweet Spot DOLLY: MATED
It smells like heaven inside the store. Under the dust and the peeling paint, there's the ghost of a thousand mornings baked into these walls. Yeast. Butter. Burnt sugar. The floor is a cracked checkerboard of black and white tile. A scarred wooden counter runs along one wall, chairs sit upside down on the tables, and an empty glass display case stands in the corner with yellowing doilies still lining its shelves. And at the back, taking up the entire wall like an altar, is a massive oven. Brick. Arched. Blackened. Magnificent. It's every baker's wet dream. "You're a bit early, love," a rough voice says. "But since you're here, you're welcome to look around." A man steps out from the back, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. He looks to be in his early seventies, small and stooped, with a halo of white hair. His cardigan is buttoned up wrong and has the words "You're my butter half" stitched across it. I immediately decide that I like him. "I don't want to impose," I say sl
Sweet Spot DOLLY: LIES AND FORTUNES
I toss and turn all night, my brain replaying yesterday's events over and over until I give up on sleep entirely. I pull myself out of bed, a glance at my alarm clock telling me it's 4:19 a.m. Owl lets out a soft sound at the rustle of my bedsheets, and I reach out to rub a thumb down her back. Her feathers are warm and slightly ruffled from sleep. "Did I wake you?" I pat around blindly for my phone, squinting at the harsh glow when the screen switches on. "I'm sorry. Mama's just finding it a bit difficult to sleep." I don't do well under stress. Unlike some people, who tend to thrive on it, I crumble. I overthink, and then I end up doing nothing. And this time I feel guilty on top of it, as though I intruded on something that was never meant for outsiders' eyes. "I knew his family was awful, but this is a whole new level," I whisper. "And to think his father is in support of the wedding." Owl tilts her head and studies me with black, unblinking eyes. I heave a sigh. "Should I t
Sweet Spot NOAH: EX MARKS THE SPOT II
My father stands on the porch in a charcoal overcoat, his silver-and-black hair pressed flat against his skull. Rain drips steadily from the tip of the umbrella onto my doormat. He's a lot smaller than I remember. Time and age have not been kind, and I could not be more grateful for that. He holds the umbrella over my mother, his palm pressed into the small of her back as if she'd fall apart without it. Right now, she looks like she would. Her face is pale beneath her makeup, and her fingers are tight around the strap of her handbag. Briefly, I wonder if she fell ill again and didn't tell me. I wonder if he was, once again, the cause. "Well," Albert says, already sounding put off five seconds after seeing my face. The feeling is very mutual. His gaze slides past me to the suitcase by the stairs, the dust, the bare walls, and his mouth thins in judgment. "Aren't you going to invite us inside?" "No." I cross my arms and plant myself in front of the entrance to make that clearer. "
Sweet Spot NOAH: EX MARKS THE SPOT
The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time we get to my place. I show Dolly up to my room and leave as soon as she begins to pull the wet clothes off her body. The stairs creak under my feet all the way down, loud in this empty house, and I don't let myself look back. There's only so much a man can take, and I reached my threshold back in the car. Heading into my kitchen, I fill the kettle and flick it on, then lean against the counter while it ticks and rumbles. I make tea, because it gives my hands something to do. Something to take my mind off the unwanted direction it keeps heading in. Water thumps through the pipes overhead, and I stare very hard at the chipped mug in my hand. I cannot let anything happen between Dolly and me. Whatever that was in the car, it was a one-off. A fluke. She's Oscar's little sister, and one of my closest friends. She's five years younger than me, and one of the few good things in a childhood that has otherwise been nothing but good at being c
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