Everything Has Changed – Courtney Rae

He’s a few feet away, with a counter between us, but the way his words slide across my skin feels like he is right next to me. Whispering those words directly into my ear. His warmth seeping into my skin and reminders of his labored breathing and moans fill my head again. The plastic cup in my hand drops to the countertop, bouncing once then twice until it rolls to the floor making even more noise.

I squeeze my eyes shut at the noise, knowing it sent all eyes in my direction. Grabbing a new cup, I restart the drink and push thoughts of last night out of my mind. “What’s wrong with her?” Camila scoffs. “Late night,” Piper replies. Another smirk laced within her words. “What do you recommend today, Gwen?” “He loved the apple drink the other day. Didn’t you, babe?” I take my eyes off the espresso filling up the bottom of the cup as soon as she uses the pet name.

My gaze goes directly to Logan, curiosity at his reaction getting the best of me. It pleases me to no end to see him pull away from where her hand landed on his arm, a move way too similar to how she treated his father—her boss—when they were in here together. Especially since his hazel eyes are on me. The smirk on his lips sends a thrill to my core, but when I watch his eyes slide down to my lips before coming back up to meet mine I have to resist the urge to squeeze my thighs together to look for friction.

“What do you recommend today, Gwen?” My name in his gruff voice reminds me of the way he said it in the quiet of my apartment. I clear my throat against the thickening emotion I’m feeling at the memories trying to come to the forefront of my mind again. “Ring him up for Christmas in a Cup, Pipes.” I turn back to the machine to continue crafting their drinks before I do something ridiculous like reach across the bakery case Logan is standing in front of now and planting one on him.

One quick little rendezvous and the man has me acting like a horny teenager. “And a vanilla latte, too, please. For my father.”

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. The use of AI training or AI on this work is prohibited.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Cover design by Maria Teressa @essasketch Editing by Ebb & Flow Editing OceanofPDF.com Contents Dedication Prologue 1. Gwendolyn 2. Logan 3. Gwendolyn 4. Logan 5. Gwendolyn 6. Logan 7. Gwendolyn 8. Gwendolyn 9. Logan 10.

Gwendolyn 11. Logan 12. Gwendolyn 13. Gwendolyn 14. Logan 15. Gwendolyn 16. Logan 17. Gwendolyn 18. Logan 19. Gwendolyn 20. Logan 21. Gwendolyn 22. Gwendolyn 23. Logan 24. Logan 25. Gwendolyn 26. Logan 27. Logan 28. Gwendolyn 29. Gwendolyn 30. Logan 31. Gwendolyn 32. Logan 33. Gwendolyn 34. Gwendolyn 35. Logan 36. Gwendolyn 37. Logan 38. Gwendolyn 39. Logan 40. Gwendolyn 41. Logan 42. Gwendolyn 43. Gwendolyn 44. Logan 45. Logan 46. Gwendolyn 47.

Logan 48. Logan 49. Gwendolyn 50. Gwendolyn Epilogue Acknowledgements About the author OceanofPDF.com To the little girl with big dreams. I’m sorry it took this long, but I’m glad we kept dreaming. This one is for me. OceanofPDF.com “G Prologue wen! Have you seen my sweater?” “No, Kennedy! I already told you three times.” I let the screen door slam closed between us, the banging noise drowning out my sister moaning about how I always steal her stuff. She wasn’t necessarily wrong about that, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t have her sweater.

This time. I make my way into the treeline quickly, hoping Kennedy didn’t see me head out here and follow me for further interrogation. Hand over hand, I ascend the wooden slats my dad nailed into the tree to help us get up to our treehouse. It was the last thing he built for us years ago, only a few weeks before the accident.

I don’t think I would ever climb these stairs and not think about my parents. Though, my memories felt more like stories passed down from family members at this point. The image of them are mere flashes of the same photographs my grandmother keeps in her house. Ophelia said that’s normal when you lose someone at such a young age.

Still didn’t seem right to me. Anytime I was able to climb up to the treehouse, I took it. But today was different.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 998d93442631a9c8
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,284,567 bytes (2.179 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 366
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 651.78 minutes
• Total Words: 130,357
• Total Characters: 682,653
• Average Words per Page: 356.17
• Average Characters per Page: 1865.17

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