Romans & histoires The Summer I Turned Pretty Audiobook Free

Then, he used all of his strength to scatter it toward the sea. He yelled, "Go forth, Ophelia! You're free now!" A breeze blew past the shore at that moment. It helped bring my ashes toward the depths of the sea. Adrian and I just smiled at each other. I was finally free. "Adrian Prince!" An enraged voice boomed loudly at that moment. Dominic was stumbling toward Adrian and me with bloodshot eyes. "Adrian, return Ophelia's ashes to me! Please just give her back to me! I'm begging you!"

Before long, Mom couldn't take it anymore. … My life was unusually calm during this time—like the eerie stillness before a storm. One afternoon, my phone rang, displaying an unfamiliar number. I casually answered it. "Hello?" There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by the sound of a woman crying, her sobs intentionally subdued.

The head of the orphanage found me in the middle of the scorching summer, which was why he named me Theros Sommar. When Daisy learned of it, she then said that moving forward, the summer solstice every year would be my birthday. She then prepared birthday gifts for me and even baked a birthday cake for me to celebrate. Ever since my gastric bleeding the other day, she had forbidden me from drinking again. But the mood back then had been just right, so I pestered her until she gave in and allowed me to drink some red wine. One thing led to another, and that night, she finally gave herself wholly to me.

“Nothing left?” Samuel actually laughed. “Mr. Ferguson, is that not exactly what you are right now? You have already lost everything. That is what we wanted my sister to see.” He turned toward me, and his tone softened. “Vivian, look carefully. He is exactly the same now as when you followed him to Stormbay years ago. Broke and powerless. Honestly, even worse than before. “The business empire he built is gone. He is sitting in prison, and this is the consequence he owes you.”

Before I could say another word, the line disconnected, leaving behind nothing but the hollow beeping tone. The cold grew sharper and sharper, carving straight into my bones. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. Suddenly, my phone lit up with a notification. I turned my head slightly and saw that Morgan had just updated his social media. In the photo, he wore nothing but a thin short-sleeved shirt with a popsicle hanging from his mouth. 'So lucky Ms. Sheffield brought me a generator, or I would have frozen tonight too.' I stared at the picture for a long time.

"I'll be back next week to take a look." I hung up the phone and looked at the wine glass in my hand. The red wine swirled gently in the glass, like liquid ruby. "To freedom." I said softly. Then I drank it all down. (End)

Brianna’s little hands grasp ours like we're a family. “Alright, Bri,” I start, holding the book out in front of us. “What story are we reading tonight?” “The princess and the frog!” she declares, eyes sparkling. Kevin groans dramatically. “You always read that!” I smirk, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “How dare you complain about such a masterpiece?” As I read, I exaggerate voices, making Kevin act as a cute frog, Brianna squeals in delight, clutching her blanket tighter when I narrate the part where Tiana becomes a frog too.

In the distance, the faint crackle of a fire could already be heard, and laughter carried on the breeze. I felt my chest tighten slightly at the thought of Gavin and Eben waiting, and I couldn’t help sneaking a glance toward the Miller house. Gavin stood there, adjusting his wet hair, arms crossed, his gaze flicking briefly in our direction before returning to Eben. My stomach did a little flip. “Ready?” Gemma asked, nudging me gently. I smirked, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Josh was already half-running toward the fire, dragging me along. Gemma laughed, keeping pace beside me, and I felt the familiar thrill of summer rush through me—the warmth of the s

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed into her chair like her bones had been removed. My aunt shrieked and fainted on the spot. My uncle scrambled to hold her up, pressing her philtrum to revive her. “Impossible! You cheated! You must’ve cheated! Tell me!” “Look at you, completely losing it. How could I cheat? I’m just a bookworm, remember?” Though it was true that I was a bookworm, my friends weren’t. While I studied abroad, I’d taken on some ghost-writing jobs to survive. That was how I met Annie.