Briarcrest Academy #3
(all novels are standalones)
Author: Ilsa
Madden-Mills
Release Date: March 1
A sassy violinist who lives next door…
The rock star who spies on her...
And the one night she bares it all.
Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.
Description:
Vital
Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would
go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he
did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was
only a matter of time before his stars aligned.
But
life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.
After
being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and
Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems
innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very
unlikely people.
Twenty-year-old
Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage.
She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her
twisted past in order to make her future.
He’s
the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the
introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.
When
they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his
heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention
isn’t Violet’s.
Welcome
to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life
are VERY
TWISTED THINGS.
My Review
4 Stars
This book was great. I am not going to go into detail of the book, but I will tell you what I liked about the book.
Sebastian had a lot of his old personality in him but he has grown up. It is has been a few years sense he has bee in school and fame has taught him a thing or two. Sebastian is more swear of the things that go around him and therefor his is more cautious. He was finding his footing in Hollywood and learning why it is like to be famous and the shenanigans that come with it.
Violet this girl I really love. She has been through so much and meeting Sebastian (the way she teases him...perfect) puts everything into a spin. She finds her strength in more ways than one and I enjoyed when she finally started standing up for herself. What they both did not know was they have more in common than they could ever imagine.
The chemistry is very well written and Ilsa builds up the tension and angst perfectly. As I was reading there were a few times that if Ilsa were to be near me I am not sure if I would hug her or shake her with the feelings that she (or Sebastian and Violet) put me through.
New
York Times and USA Today bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about
strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She is addicted to dystopian and all things fantasy,
including unicorns and sword-wielding heroines. Other fascinations include
frothy coffee beverages, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy
(she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, homemade soups, and tattoos.
When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops
for cool magnets and paints old furniture.
She
loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.
Once Charlotte O'Brien accepted she'd never be with the one person who filled her with more passion-and anger-than she'd ever felt before, her choice became clear: she would close the door on a life with Jason Leer and embrace her future with Noble Sinclair.
Luckily for Charlotte, Noble has proven time and again that he cherishes her in a way which heals her every gaping wound. But first love never dies. Apparently it moves home to torture Charlotte with daily reminders of what could have been. And while Charlotte may have quit Jason, Jason will never quit her. Suddenly, it's becoming harder and harder for Charlotte to remember why Noble was the right choice . .
My Review
5 Stars
Ok, this is a hard one to explain. As I read each book in this series I liked each book more than the last. Now this has become a series that I would recommend to my friends. This book had it all, angst, love, new friendships and finding your way to happiness.
This book moved in so many emotional ways that I still want to cry over all the feelings that author brought out in me. Charlotte is still trying to make her relationship with Noble work. They love each other but Noble can't save Charlotte from herself no matter how hard he tries. Situations and challenges arise that make her choices hard. She learns how to be a better person for herself.
I want to discuss so many things with you all and shout and scream about all the things in this book that I just cannot spoil for you. The outcome of this book...I cannot say. I can say that it was perfect. I have to leave it at that, read it, find me and talk to me about it because I need someone to talk to.
EXCERPT
“This is
going to end soon and I don’t want to be without you. I can’t be.” This cannot
be happening. “You don’t love him.”
“Why is it so
hard for you to believe that I do? I do love him,” I snap at him. I
don’t know how I’m capable of loving anyone after a tour with you, but I love
him.
“Because with
every cell of my body I know you belong to me. Next to me, on top of me.” I
swallow hard at the thought of him beneath me. “Inside of you.”
“I get the
picture.”
“And because
I know that. Because it’s true. You can’t be in love with him.”
“You didn’t
want to pull me away from New York City? You so selflessly fucked Stephanie
Harding to make sure I ended up where I belong, but now you’ll have me leave
Noble? You are fucked up,” I spit at him.
“If you give
us a chance, I will never let you go again. I promise. Annie, you’ve got to give
us another chance. You’ve got to know it’s not a life unless we’re together.”
The waitress
brings our food and Jason and I just stare at each other. I am baffled. I
hate him. I love him. I want him…to leave.
“I want you
to go away with me when this is over.”
“What will be
left of me? You think it will be enough for you. If I hurt Noble like that, I won’t
be the same person. You wouldn’t want me.”
“Impossible,”
he scoffs. We sit in silence until he finally takes a bite of his sandwich. I eat
a little and stare at my glass of tea. I wish I could be drunk, unconscious
actually. I’m no longer capable of living my life. Not this one, at least.
“You’re
always sure of everything. Even when you’re wrong you’re sure,” I say,
watching him finish his meal,
completely unaffected by his plot to ruin my life, and Noble’s, and probably my
brother’s because why should he be exempt from this torture. “I’m never sure of
anything. Do you know why?”
Jason looks
at me, bracing himself for what’s coming.
“Because the
last person I was sure of, I was completely wrong about. I never thought you
would be capable of doing what you did. How could you?”
Jason just
stares at me, taking every word he deserves.
“How could
you put your hands on her? Put your dickin her?” I lower my voice. There’s no need to
yell; it’s grotesque without the dramatics.
“I guess you
were lying when you said you forgave me,” he says.
“This is what
you’re asking me to turn Noble into. A person who no longer believes in anything
he’s ever known.”
“What I’m
asking has nothing to do with Sinclair. He put himself between us. That’s his problem.
He knew I wanted you back the entire time,” Jason says, taking money out and
putting it on the table for lunch. “I’m asking you to let yourself be happy.
Let yourself believe in me again because I sure as hell know you want to.”
I stand up from the table and start
walking. I don’t stop until I get to my car, but as usual Jason is there one
step before me, blocking my door.
“You’re making every single day of this
nightmare even harder,” I say.
“I think the exact same thing about
you. Going home to that house every night.” The cruelty of today continues as
Jason leans into me and places his lips on mine and some internal sob caves my
chest in and steals my breath. He puts his hands above my head, leaning on the Volvo
behind me, and separates my lips with his tongue. And I let him. I let him in,
in every way. My blood courses through me and throbs everywhere as I give in to
what my hands and my mouth and lips have wanted for months. I wrap my arms
around his neck and he pulls me to him.
I pull his hair and my tongue takes
over my thoughts.
I pull away from him. His eyes are
ravenous. He will take me right here in this parking lot if I let him.
“It doesn’t change a thing,” I croak
out. “You knew all of that before my body told you.”
“I did, but now you know it, too,” he
says, and takes the keys from me to drive us home.
Home…
The ride is long and silent. Betrayal
sits between us and contemplates how many lives Jason and Charlotte can ruin,
their own apparently not enough for them. I lean my head on the cool window and
focus on the sky as the almost full moon rises. It’s not even four o’clock yet.
The supermoon will be here in a few days. What lunacy will it bestow upon us?
“I love you, Annie,” Jason says, and I
never take my eyes off the moon. I never turn to him or acknowledge he spoke.
Through with the talking, done with the truth. Let him know everything. Now I
want to know nothing.
Eliza Freed graduated from Rutgers University and returned to her hometown in rural South Jersey. Her mother encouraged her to take some time and find herself. After three months of searching, she began to bounce checks and her neighbors began to talk; her mother told her to find a job.
She settled into Corporate America, learning systems and practices and the bureaucracy that slows them. Eliza quickly discovered her creativity and gift for story telling as a corporate trainer and spent years perfecting her presentation skills and studying diversity. It's during this time she became an avid observer of the characters we meet and the heartaches we endure. Her years of study have taught her laughter is the key to survival, even when it's completely inappropriate.
She currently lives in New Jersey with her family and a misbehaving beagle named Odin. An avid swimmer, if Eliza is not with her family and friends, she'd rather be underwater. While she enjoys many genres, she has always been a sucker for a love story...the more screwed up the better.
I
worked two jobs, made ends meet, and hung out with my mom and twin brother. The
other part of my life was about avoiding him, but when SWAT raided my
boyfriend’s home, that was the last straw. The boyfriend got tossed and to help
me keep busy, my brother talked me into joining their old band again, but I had
to be honest. It wasn’t a hard sell. Playing drums was in my blood. I used to
be addicted and that craving hadn’t been satisfied in three long years. The
only problem was their lead singer.
It
was him.
The
drums might not have been the only thing I was addicted to. I think I was still
addicted to him too.
Excerpt one: (Bri's pov)
Luke hit a jarring note on
his guitar below, drawing me from the past and back to reality. Seriously. I’d
been ready to take on two thugs beside a dumpster for my stupid-ass cousin, but
this had ice filling my veins.
I rolled my eyes upward.
What was wrong with me?
The melody was addictive. I
felt it reach deep inside me and take root. My breathing wavered as he kept
playing. He moved down a chord, and the sound of it seeped into me, smoothing
out the haunted memories. Then he began singing. His voice was soft and low,
but I could hear it as if I were in the room. He was weaving a spell. It was
like he threw a spear that had a rope attached to it at me from a hundred yards
away, and it embedded deep into my stomach. Then he began pulling on it. I
couldn’t fight because it would yank out my insides, but damn, I didn’t want to
go with it. This whole thing with Luke was both painful and exhilarating at the
same time. I had two urges going through me at once. One was to crap my pants,
and the other was to start doing cartwheels.
I was just messed up, which
is why I started down the stairs. I still had no clue what to say, but I had to
do something.
He was hunched over the
guitar in his lap with a beer at his feet. His eyes were closed, and his head
hung over the guitar as he hit another chord, his thumb beating out the base.
Since he was only wearing jeans, I saw some of the scars on his back. A storm
of regret, shame, and longing all swirled inside me. I wanted to go to him, run
my hands over those scars, and make them disappear. I couldn’t, though. We
weren’t close anymore.
So many ghosts within you
So many haunts to pull you away
You look, I reach out and there’s nothing to do
They take you from me again, far away
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t take your hand
He kept singing, and my
heart felt like it was splitting into two, but then he faltered. His eyes
opened, and he looked up. He didn’t stop playing, but he stopped singing.
I felt like he was
strumming me. I couldn’t look away from his gaze. His thumb stopped hitting the
bass, and his fingers slowed on the guitar. “What are you doing here?”
Right. I was pretty sure I
was seeing lust in his eyes. With that thought, a fever took over my blood,
heating me up. “I,” my tongue wet my lips, “um, I’m here to talk about you and
me.”
His gaze clouded over, and
his eyelids lowered. He bent his head back over his guitar, but he didn’t start
strumming again. “There is no ‘you and me.’ You’re in the band. That’s it.”
I swallowed the lump in my
throat. “Luke,” I started.
“No.” He stood up abruptly,
setting his guitar to the side. He advanced toward me, his eyes were
smoldering.
When my back hit the wall,
I realized I had nowhere else to go and could only watch as he closed in on me.
A part of me wanted him to keep getting closer; the other part of me was still
thinking about crapping my pants.
He leaned a hand against
the wall beside my head, keeping a few inches between us. His eyes were hard as
he said, “There is no you and me. That died long ago, remember?”
Excerpt two: (Luke's pov)
I’d been tense from
watching Bri on stage, and it hadn’t lessened as we ran through the woods. If
there was another remark about her, I was ready to swing. I didn’t care how big
they were.
Gunn had been watching me.
He moved close and said under his breath, “If it happens, I’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“Because we need your
pretty face for the fans.”
I looked up to see if he
was serious. He was, but he relinquished, “Kidding. If you have a busted face,
I think Priss would piss her pants from excitement.”
Braden had overheard him
and laughed. “No, shit. That’d be leaked to the gossip shows in two seconds
flat. I swear, she has all the numbers for the gossip channels on speed dial.”
The football players had
gone ahead, but stopped and waited for us. The third one asked, “What’s going
on?”
“Nothing.” I shoved past
him. While seeing the road through the trees, I saw the headlights for Braden’s
car at the same time. When we cleared the trees and headed up the ditch, all of
us panned out and walked in one line for the car.
When we got there, Bri
opened her door and leaned against the car. Her hair was whipping behind her
face and one hand was resting on her hip. She tugged her shirt and then
adjusted it back, but it didn’t stick. It fell down, showing her black bra. Bri
was clueless, scowling at us. She was the picture of fierce and alluring at the
same time.
We were greeted with, “What
were you guys doing there?”
She took in the whole line
of guys before letting her eyes find mine, making me feel seared. It was the
same effect every time. My insides felt yanked out, but I still wanted to touch
her.
I looked away instead.
“We came to see you.”
Braden motioned to the guys.
“Are you insane? How was
tonight supposed to go down any other way? You guys are celebrities. You can’t
be coming to house parties anymore.” There was a clipped bark to her voice, but
it faded on the last word, and I glanced over. She sneaked a look at me.
“Yeah, we didn’t think
ahead.” Braden threw a hand to the football guys. “Got some extra room?”
She shook her head. “There
is no way this little car can fit all of you hulks.”
The guys laughed and one
mentioned, “We can wait here. A bunch of our buddies are coming. They can pick
us up.”
I should’ve thanked them
for saving us from the chaos, and I heard Gunn and Braden doing exactly that,
but I looked back at her. Her hand was still on her hip, but her shoulders were
slumped forward. She was kicking at some gravel on the road.
The football guys headed
farther down the road as Gunn and Braden got into the car. We were alone now,
but there was still an audience.
She wouldn’t look at me
anymore. I wanted to turn those dark eyes to me. I wanted to say something, but
I had no idea what. I ended with, “You’re still really good.”
Her head lifted, and I saw
it. There was so much there. Fear, caution, excitement, warmth, and another
expression I couldn’t place. No, I did. She was still haunted.
“Thank.”
She was mine.
No. She wasn’t.
She had gone to him that night.
Ah, fucking hell.
“We should probably talk.”
Her eyes opened at my tone,
which was rough, and panic flared across her face for a moment. “Oh. Okay.
Author Information
I
didn't begin writing until after undergraduate college. There'd been storylines
and characters in my head all my life, but it came to a boiling point one day
and I HAD to get them out of me. So the computer was booted up and I FINALLY
felt it click. Writing is what I needed to do. After that, I had to teach
myself how to write. I can't blame my teachers for not teaching me all those
years in school. It was my fault. I was one of the students that was wishing I
was anywhere but at school! So after that day, it took me lots of work until I
was able to put together something that resembled a novel. I'm hoping I got it
right since someone must be reading this profile! And I hope you keep enjoying
my future stories.
Author: New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!
A beautiful violinist who lives next door…The obsessed rock star who watches her... And the one night she bares it all. Description:
Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.
But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.
After being cheated on, Sebastian’s only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.
Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.
He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.
When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.
Prologue
Violet
“Fairy dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons
Boom!
I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.
At the very least, comet residue.
I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.
Which was now.
Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.
I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the NewYork Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.
Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule.
Then the first explosion had gone off.
Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace.
Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left.
Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?
The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.
My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.
Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.
I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long.
Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder.
Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water.
The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching.
Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please.
My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.
Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning.
Exhausted.
Done.
My body twitched. I grew disoriented.
I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me.
Oblivion.
Darkness.
No bright lights, no tunnel.
No heaven, no mother, no father.
No comets.
No fairy dust.
Chapter 1
Sebastian
Two years later
“She was music with skin.” —Sebastian Tate
I tapped my foot.
What was taking her so long?
From my backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material flashing around her long legs as she moved around. Her hair was down, too.
This was new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail?
She looked like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need a high-powered lens to know I was here.
Usually she played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me.
What was she doing?
Could she see me?
As if it were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing, blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d slapped iron chains on me.
Dark and seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her arms to manipulate the strings.
Her robe slipped off her right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered, vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out of the folds of the material. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to—
Stop, I told myself. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music.
I zoomed in as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each note she pulled from her instrument.
She finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the emotion wash over her like it had me.
The entire event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry.
I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
Who the hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did.
Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention.
And then …
Standing there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart piece by piece.
My gaze searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one.
She flicked her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind.
My eyes went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one.
Violin Girl was trapped in a cage of darkness.
It still didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her.
She jerked the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment.
Buy Very Twisted Things on Amazon: http://amzn.to/1AGPMI9Author Bio
New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She’s addicted to dystopian and all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroines. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.
She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.
When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.
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