by Jamie Knight
“I’m going to move more boxes,” I said, getting up and giving up on the conversation.
I marched outside to the parking lot to get some fresh air before I did something stupid, like snapped and screamed at her. My parents always set me on edge, especially my very religious mother, but today they were reaching new heights.
I calmed myself by thinking, They’re going home in a few hours. Just get through this and they’ll be out of your hair soon.
After saying that about 20 times, I reached my parent’s sedan. I picked up a lamp and a box of stuff for my desk. I tried to think about my class schedule and finding time to go to the book store.
I was already going to have to adjust my schedule. Half the things the college automatically signed me up for made no sense. History? Theatre? I was a business major; why would I need those classes?
Apparently, though, this was the norm. We were to learn first what the world was made of, before we ran a business in it. I guess that’s ultimately what I was here for.
When I’d visited the campus as a future applicant, we were told that it was usually chaos when the freshman arrived. And now I was seeing it for myself. The parking lot was full of other families and students and their mismatched dorm furnishings.
I had never seen so many tie-dye tapestries, except in movies. I took a little comfort in overhearing some of the other students’ eye-roll-worthy conversations with their folks.
That was, until I realized how all the other parents were actually happy that their kids were going to be in college. If anything, what was annoying to these students was that their parents smothered them with too much love and support.
Wow.
That was never really a problem I’d had. I sighed at this sad realization and moved even more quickly to shorten my time with them here.
When I got back to the small dorm room, Dad had my bed frame in pieces and the mattress lifted to the side.
“Dad! What are you doing?” I panicked.
I set the lamp and the box on the floor and hurried over to him.
“Relax,” he said. “I think there’s a screw loose somewhere. I’m just fixing it. I don’t have my tools, so I’m using this dime as a screwdriver.”
“Dad, please put my bed back together,” I said, trying to sound calm.
I didn’t want to start a fight, but he was so embarrassing. I hadn’t met anyone yet, but I would hate to have a new floor mate walk by and see this mess.
“We have to pay for things like that if we break them.”
“I told you, I’m not breaking it, I’m fixing it,” he assured me. “Give me two minutes.”
My mom came over and put her small hand on my shoulder. She drew me away from my dad and over to the dresser.
“Tina, I put your underwear and bras underneath your sweaters,” she whispered. “That way, the boys can’t see them when you open the drawer.”
“Oh, my God,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples.
“What, dear?” she asked.
“Great, Mom, thanks. I’m going to the car, again. Be right back,” I said.
At this point, I really wished I had some Advil. My head was pounding, and my stress levels were through the roof. This is what my parents did to me— they made me crazy. Absolutely crazy.
I went to the car and grabbed another bag and my laptop. Then I glanced again towards the dozens of other students who were also moving in. It was utter madness on move-in day.
Across the street, one of the frat houses had a bunch of guys sitting on a couch outside with a sign that said, “You honk, we drink” and a second sign that said, “Okay, dads. We’ll take it from here.”
I hoped my father did not see that sign. He was way over protective, especially about boys. If my dad even saw me talking to a boy this early into the college process, there was no telling what he’d do.
I didn’t think he had actually put it together right away that I was going to be stuck on campus with guys. I mean, you should’ve heard him when he found out the dorms were co-ed. I thought he was going to blow a gasket.
This was my last trip from the car, and I could feel my blood pressure returning to normal as I walked back. But when I passed a dorm room that was a few doors down from mine, I heard a familiar voice.
“Okay Dad, if you insist on bringing in the fridge, I’ll take it.”
I peeked in and couldn’t believe it.
There stood Seth Foster, my least favorite person alive.
Chapter Two
Tina
I would recognize his tall form anywhere. He stood among a mess of boxes, looking over the small room.
He had his back to me. It was muscular and widened up to his broad shoulders. Seth had a swimmer’s body, all long lean muscle with huge shoulders.
Some of my girlfriends thought he was hot. But I couldn’t see it. He was too stupid to be hot.
His dad started to leave the room, presumably to go to the parking lot and get the fridge out of the car. I didn’t want him to see me, so I hurriedly starting walking.
I ended up by the bathrooms, so I hurried in. But after a moment of staring at myself in the mirror, I realized I couldn’t stay in here all day.
I had to deal with the unbelievable fact that he and I had wound up in the same place as each other, yet again. So, I left the bathroom as soon as I figured it was safe, and that Mr. Foster had already passed on his way out to his car.
When I was six years old, my father lost his management job at the steel plant, to downsizing. He had to take a lower-paying job on the line at a different factory, one that made auto-parts.
We couldn’t afford our nice house anymore and moved into an apartment complex. Seth and his family lived in the apartment above ours. So, technically, he was my neighbor back home.
Seth and I had known each other and hated each other since we were six years old, since the first month my family moved into the apartment building. And there he was— right up close to my space.
I couldn’t believe my bad luck. This was insane. What were the odds that he would be living on the same floor as me, in the same dorm? That he would even be going to the same college?
I sighed with the same resignation as I’d had for the past two hours and started towards my dorm room again. After two steps, I stopped in my tracks. I knew my dad would freak right out if he found out Seth was here.
And he would make an absolute scene if he ran into Seth’s father.
I had to do something.
My folks had never gotten along with Seth’s parents. Both our dads worked at the auto-parts factory. Mr. Foster’s station was right before my dad’s. My dad always complained that Mr. Foster screwed up his productivity and kept him from being promoted.
My dad had always resented not being able to make it into management there. I guess it made him feel like he should stand out from his coworkers.
Seth’s parents had tried to be nice. They had brought by a casserole when we first moved in, but my parents wouldn’t even ask them inside.
There were rumors about Seth’s mom that my dad had had heard at work. I didn’t understand at the time, but my mom said that she was a bad Christian and if we let them in the apartment, it would ruin my family’s reputation.
My parents’ rudeness was noted by Seth’s dad and they had been fighting ever since. Seth had only made things worse, instead of better, but that wasn’t something I wanted to think about right now.
I rushed back into my own dorm and set my stuff down on the sterile laminate floor. I had to do something right away, before my parents saw Seth or Mr. Foster and freaked out and succeeded in making me even more miserable.
“I’ll be right back, I, uh, have to go to the bathroom,” I told my folks.
I was hoping they’d believe me, even though I had just come from the bathroom. Neither one looked up from what they were doing, and then I remembered that they didn’t know I had just been in the bathroom.
All signs indicated that
my parents would be occupied for several minutes. This was a rare treat, since normally they worried about me whenever I was anywhere but right under their nose. So, I seized the opportunity and ducked back out to the hallway.
On the way to Seth’s dorm, it all came back to me. I remembered what my mother said that day when the Fosters brought by that casserole. She said that Seth’s mom was a harlot.
At the time, I didn’t know what the word meant. I asked, but my parents refused to tell me.
Two weeks later, Seth and I were alone on the complex playground. I had just come down the slide to where he stood, kicking the gravel rocks into haphazard piles.
My mother had said over breakfast that morning that Seth’s mom left her family a few nights earlier.
“Left to go where?” I’d asked, thinking she must mean on vacation or a work trip. Or maybe just on a run to the store. It was hard to tell, since Mom had been being vague about things.
“She left for good to go a-sinning” was her answer.
After sliding down, I walked up to his newest gravel mound and watched him for a little while. I remembered that he seemed sad. I figured I’d be sad too, if my mom left for good.
Then I asked Seth, “Did your mom leave your family because she’s a harlot?”
He turned quick and gave me a hard shove, knocking me down. Then he was standing above me on the ground. He pushed my face into the soft dirt left exposed by his gravel pile, before walking back to his apartment. I had hated him ever since.
Now, I slipped inside Seth’s dorm room and shut the door behind me. He turned around at the noise.
“Tina?” he asked, his deep brown eyes wide with surprise.
Click here to read I Hate You, Move In!
I can't stand him.
So why do I want him to take my virginity?
It's my freshman year of college and I'm elated to get away from my old-fashioned parents.
But apparently, it's not as easy to escape my childhood enemy.
Seth was my neighbor back home, and now he's living in the dorm down the hall!
He's always been handsome but his womanizing, cocky ways drive me crazy.
I tell myself not to notice how fit and toned he's become.
All we do is fight like usual.
Until I kiss him, just to piss off my parents... and then I want more.
It feels good, but I know that letting him take me for my very first time would be bad.
Then we both lose our dorm rooms and are forced to share a one room apartment.
Can we go from enemies with benefits to roommates without killing each other?
Will we just fight and f*ck, or does fate want us to be something more?
I Hate You, Move In is a full-length standalone romance novel. Jamie Knight promises to always bring you a happy ever after filled with plenty of heat. And never any cheating or cliffhangers!
Click here to continue reading I Hate You, Move In
Sneak Peak of My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby
The first book in my His Secret Baby series is My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby. Here is an exclusive sneak peek!
Prologue
Bradley
I shouldn’t have been doing this. Shouldn’t have these thoughts about James’s daughter.
But, she was so damn hot. And she had been practically throwing herself at me. Those hips, those lips, those eyes… it was as if she was begging me to do what I wanted, which was to bend her over my lap and spank her ass for being such a bad girl, and then thrust my dick deep inside her mouth.
Her father James was the only good friend I had these days, and he had been ever since I so desperately needed one. After I was injured at war and discharged from duty, he’d taken me to his house and let me stay with him even though he had only been my commanding officer. We’d grown close, both due to the gratefulness I’d felt for him and the bond we’d shared as he’d helped me get back on my feet.
Fucking his daughter was no way to repay him for his kindness— even though it was clear she wanted me to take her for her very first time. Sure, she was an adult and seemed to know exactly what she wanted— which was very obviously me. And I wanted to take her— every which way I could.
From behind, while she was on all fours calling out my name and I was pulling her hair. From on top, while I was looking into those pretty eyes she liked to bat so innocently at me. From underneath her, so that she could spread those legs wide and let me all the way into her tiny, tight, wet little pussy.
I couldn’t do it. Could I? It could have all sorts of negative consequences. James would no doubt kick me out of his house. And what if I knocked her up? She had her whole life ahead of her, and mine had just been unexpectedly derailed.
I had to fucking control myself. But could I? Not with those curvy hips of hers walking in front of me, while she was dressed only in her bikini, begging me to come for a swim with her. Swim with her? I wanted to swim in her. And I always got what I wanted.
Chapter 1
Bradley
“Hope the chicken isn't too spicy for you,” said James, looking over at me while I absentmindedly scraped my food around on my plate. I was so lost in thought, I almost forgot where I was.
I was still trying to process everything. So much had happened. I knew that, all things considered, I was very lucky. Too bad that lucky felt so fucking shitty.
I shifted in my chair to try to relieve some of the pressure from my hip. I winced at a sharp pain shooting from my toes up my leg.
I had been an aircraft mechanic in the Air Force for about eighteen years. Some people have looked at that as “not shit” since I wasn't in direct combat much, but for me, it let me do what I loved while still serving our country.
I was a self-taught mechanic, learning everything I knew as a young kid working on the cars of friends, family, neighbors, basically anyone within a ten-mile radius who would let me near their car. People would remark with amazement when their car was fixed using little or no parts, and drove better than it had before it needed work done on it. News traveled fast about the teenage boy who could fix cars and did it for next to nothing, sometimes even for free.
I vividly remember a lady walking up to my house, looking nervous and afraid.
“B-Br-Brad?” she asked quietly.
“'Yeah,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Wringing her hands and glancing around nervously, she continued, but in a language I did not understand. It wasn’t Spanish or French or any of the languages I’d heard in school. Might’ve been Hungarian.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…” I remember extending out my hand slowly, with caution.
She was so scared. It was then I realized her body was wrapped in some unusual garment I’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell if it was one of those fashionista things or one of those National Geographic things. The sadness in her eyes touched my heart.
“C-Caaar? Car? Help?” she asked in an unsure voice.
“Sure, I'll help you. Let me give you a ride to wherever your car is.”
As I said it, I made a motion with one of my arms as if I was using a steering wheel to drive, while gesturing at her with my other arm to come with me. She understood what I was saying and lit up right away, smiling.
We drove the mile to where her car was and I saw what was wrong right away. Her car had overheated and needed coolant. I drove her over to the gas station and she bought some. I put it in her car, had her start the car, and after a few minutes, her engine sounded better and she was ready to go.
“Tank you,” she said, bowing her head deeply, holding my teenaged hand between her two hands, clasped as if in prayer.
“You're welcome.”
She looked up into my eyes, hers welling with emotion. “God… God repay you,” she said.
“It's okay. Really. I'm just glad that I could help,” I told her.
I saw two car seats in the back of her car and wondered where her children were. I di
dn't bother asking her. But, I was happy that I could help.
That was when I realized that my interest in being a mechanic was more than just a hobby. I wanted to make it my profession.
I worked hard and put myself through trade school, paying for it by working at a fast food joint. Those were long, hard days, going to school during the day and working at night. Sheer will got me through those nights when the restaurant was slow.
But, I knew that if I had any hopes of doing anything with my life, I would have to keep going. I came from a dirt-poor family. Most of them had barely gotten through grade school, let alone had any real profession to speak of.
So, when I graduated from trade school as a mechanic, I felt like I was on top of the fucking world. Unfortunately, though, there weren't very many opportunities in the town where I lived. And I didn’t have the money to pack up and move.
When an Air Force recruiter came around and asked if I wanted to join, I signed up right away. I knew that this was it—my ticket to freedom.
And I was right. Being a mechanic in the Air Force opened my eyes to a whole new world. Honestly, it was an entirely new level of existence. I never even knew anyone who worked that hard, with focus, in order to accomplish—and to be accomplished—as the guys in my unit did.
I’d kind of always been a bit of a daredevil. I just couldn’t “keep my booty still,” as my old great-aunt Birdie diagnosed at my fifteenth birthday party. (It was a great time—we were jumping off the roof into a kiddie pool filled high with shredded foam from a mattress I’d ripped up by hand.) I didn’t like trouble, you see, I just had a nose for action—a thrill for the outdoors, that sort of thing.
So when I discovered that I had this natural bent for fixing things, I was so excited. I was also relieved—my brain could be the one making me a living, not my brawn or bravado. I mean, sure, being a mechanic involved using my hands and muscles, too, but working on planes also involved figuring out problems and thinking about the best way to fix things.