Confessions Of A Shopaholic Novels & Stories

A shopping spree that could bankrupt a small country. She didn’t give me a chance to argue. “You need retail therapy,” she said, dragging me toward the Bishop family’s favorite designer boutique... one of those glittering, glass-fronted places where the mannequins looked like they had attitude... “I don’t think shopping cures trauma,” I mumbled. “Of course not,” she replied. “But it does cure the urge to text your ex telling him to choke.” Inside, the store gleamed with polished floors and soft jazz.

We stopped for iced coffee, decaf for me, obviously, and soft pretzels that Sophie devoured like she hadn't eaten in weeks. "Confession," she said through a mouthful, "I love this. Shopping with purpose. Feels like we're undercover agents. Agent Soph and Agent Em, disguising the evidence." I laughed, shaking my head. "Pretty sure most undercover agents don't waddle into maternity pants." She snorted soda through her nose at that, nearly choking. "Stop oh my God you did not just say waddle!" People stared, but neither of us cared. By late afternoon, we'd conquered nearly every store in the mall. My trunk was full of discreet shopping bags, each one holding a tiny piece of my secret. Flowing t

Anderson’s face twisted in confusion, her voice weak as she kept struggling to sit up. “I don’t understand… what are you talking about?” she rasped, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to push herself up from the floor but couldn’t. I bent down, my face close to hers, and with a chilling calm, I whispered, “Cut the crap, Mrs. Anderson. We both know your secrets.” Her eyes widened, and she froze, staring up at me as if she hadn’t heard me right.

I had seen an advertisement of this night gown, it was worth hundreds of dollars. "I wanted to say that my mother was getting better. She can make movements with her hands." I informed him, twirling a few portions of my gown around my pinky finger. "She has-" I started but was interrupted by a profound cough from me. I held my chest, tapping it incessantly in an attempt to stop the humiliating cough. Justin scrunched his face in disgust and it made me realise that I was coughing on him and I had a very terrible morning breath.

I clarified with a wink. "At the store." She blinked dumbly. "Do you not... go to stores or something?" I fought to keep my voice from shaking. "Not if I can help it." "Seriously?" "Seriously." "Because of the fans?" "Yeah," I lied. "They toss condoms in my shopping basket, and it's pure hell when the sales clerk asks why I have both small and extra large as if I don't know my own penis size, ergo, no shopping for Zane."

"Oh my God this much expensive dress . Are you nuts ? This dress which you guys are selling for 65000 is wrong. I saw the same dress for 8000 in sharif plaza and the quality was better than this . I will not leave you. Yoi loots" She was shouting non stop . Hadia and I were trying to stop her but she was not in mood . I put my hand on her mouth and drag her out saying sorry to the sales man and other customers which were disturbed because of her screaming. "Hey handsome leave m . I will kill all of them , I am hulk!!" she said. I was shocked firstly she called me handsome and then called herself hulk . I am telling you she is super obsessed with cartoons. But she is rich too then why she is

We collapsed against the desk, panting, sweat-slicked and spent. But as I caught my breath, reality crept back in. The hospital bills. The contract. The thirty days. I’d sold myself to save my mother, but what was I losing in the process? My dignity? My soul? Or was I discovering something else entirely—something dark and hungry within me that only Alexander could unleash?

Vivienne leaned over the book, and I watched her run her finger down the columns, and I watched her face change from disappointment to confusion to a slow gathering anger. "What is this?" she said. "These clothes. These are all old stock. Last year's patterns, the dull greys, the heavy browns nobody wants. And barely a handful sold in a day, look, three bolts, two bolts, four." She jabbed at the page. "This can’t be right. I was at that shop yesterday with my own eyes. It was packed to the walls. People three deep at the counters, a line of carriages down the street, the clerks couldn't cut fast enough. And you sit here and tell me nothing is selling?" She snatched up the ledger and flung it

My fingers shook as I locked the car, and after taking a deep breath, I walked toward the shop. With my fingers clasped on my dress, I walked into the shop; the faint scent of latex and lubricant washed over me. The fluorescent lights made everything feel brighter and more real. I was here. I had crossed that first line. I couldn't turn back now. My heart pounded as I wandered down the aisles, fingers brushing over sleek silicone, shiny leather, and glossy packages promising pleasure I had only dreamed of. Every toy seemed better, more tempting than the last, whispering at me to take them, to use them.

I took a deep breath, pushing down my irritation, and turned to put the shampoo back in the cabinet. On the first day of university, Scarlett had introduced herself to the class as a poor, countryside girl. Our advisor had kindly urged us to lend her a hand and be more accommodating, so helping her had become a daily routine. But she never seemed satisfied with ordinary things. No, she always wanted the high-end, luxury items, and was constantly asking to borrow them. I placed the bottle back, turned, and looked at her, speaking slowly, one word at a time. "I told you before, you can use those bottles of Rejoice. This one's a gift from a friend—I hadn't even planned on opening it..."