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He couldn't even get that right. The only good thing right now is Goose found us another house. The dirty motel room was more than I could take. This place was available because it has no central air in this godforsaken desert heat. It has what's referred to as an evaporative cooling system. It circulates warm air while adding moisture in this damn over-abundant humidity. This wasteland is not the promised dry heat they brag about.

There were certainly enough horse farms to see. She cranked up the air conditioner a little and pushed her hair back from her face. Today, the temperature had soared past ninety and her clothing, which she'd thought so comfortable and cool when she dressed that morning, now stuck to her like wet tissue paper. Two of the farms she'd photographed today had large enclosed pools. She'd have given her pay for a year to be able to jump into one of them. Failing that, she'd take a cold shower and a cold drink at The Love Pub.

Privacy was one of my top qualifications and I made that clear. There’s a swimming pool outside if anyone is brave enough to sit in the heat and boil. No thank you. Even though the air conditioner takes the inside temperature down into the low seventies, it’s too damn hot. The short trips I take outside to get in and out of my vehicle drive me the craziest. The heat is heavy like a wool blanket and leaches the water from my body. Who in their right mind would live in this godforsaken wasteland without someone holding a gun to their head?

Well, maybe I shall heal in time. A heavy sigh escapes my lungs, marveling the long night awaits. I know I won't easily get asleep right now, I usually don't, and it's only two a.m. Damn my life! I take a deep yawn while grabbing the bottle of water from the nightstand and gulp a bit. "Ah, that's better," I breathe, my throat refreshed. Fully aware of the resentment I have towards sweating, the summer has decided to grant me a vengeful visit. I quickly get up and turn on the fan, which allows my body to cool off gradually. The L.A heat is no joke this year.

My fists clenched as I felt my face hardened. It was them. Ashely and that piece of s- "Hey, Jake, let's go," Tatiana called out, distracting me from pulverizing that asshole as I nodded before following behind her. As we entered the restaurant or more like a diner or maybe both, this place was really packed so I'm guessing it's really popular, "So I'm guessing this is like a hot-spot?" I asked as Tatiana smirked, "Yup, everyone comes here, the food is the bomb," she replied as I nodded while looking around before she pulled me over to a booth.

Chapter 8 When we reached the bottom floor, this dungeon didn’t smell like most. There was always the smell of blood, vomit and emptied bowels where the prisoners were tortured for information; but this dungeon was like club freaking Med. I looked at Tina and Ron and we just shook our heads, it actually smelled like air fresheners and cleaning products. I rubbed my temples and mindlinked the team, “This is some bullshit. I could vacation here.” I said shaking my head.

"But that heat's just for me, right, darlin'?" "Of course," she breathed. As if any other man would ever appeal to her. His mouth continued its sensuous journey along her neck, pausing at the hollow of her throat to press his tongue to the spot where her pulse beat so furiously. And all the while his hand traveled everywhere—her thighs, her arms, her shoulders. Anya anchored her fingers in the thick warmth of his hair, holding on to him tightly as little ripples of pleasure raced through her.

My breath caught in my throat. Standing right in front of me was Hudson Monette. He was the famous, star hockey player of Team America, and a literal household name. Seeing him up close, he carried an undeniable aura of power, though a shadow of grief always seemed to linger around his sharp features. Everyone knew his story, he was the illegitimate son of Hillary Monette, the legendary hockey pro who had tragically died in a horrific car accident just four years ago.

It was mid-August and even though night had fallen it was still sweltering hot. Tina was dressed to beat the heat in a low slung denim mini skirt and bikini top, hiking sandals on her feet. She turned more than a few heads in her revealing outfit. At twenty-one years of age, she had a lush yet firm body. Full 36C tits filled her bikini top, her narrow waist flared out gently to her tight round ass, which was clearly evident even though the fullness of her skirt and her long, tanned, athletic legs gave every guy there something to lust over.

homestay) for traditional hospitality services and these online booking applications could be the new threat to the hotel chains (Salvioni, 2016). Take Airbnb as an example. Airbnb describes itself as “a trusted community marketplace for people to list, discover, and book unique accommodations around the world” (Airbnb.co.uk, 2018). This self-positioning is a good representative of Airbnb’s greatest merits and what general hotel chains missed: personalization and diversity. Airbnb can provide authentic family hotel rooms so that the customer may truly experience local characteristics. Homestay also suits for customer that tends to make acquaintance with local residents. Moreover, if the acco