Heartbreak's A Bitch! Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by S M Phillips

  About the author

  Emily Parker 10 Golden Rules

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  Heartbreak’s A Bitch!

  A Novel by S.M PHILLIPS

  Content

  Books by S M Phillips

  About the author

  Emily Parker 10 Golden Rules

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  Books by S.M Phillips

  Escape Down Under (DOWN UNDER #1)

  Fallen Down Under (DOWN UNDER #2)

  Forever Down Under (DOWN UNDER #3)

  ~

  Obsession (OBSESSION #1)

  Betrayal (OBSESSION #2)

  ~

  Since You’ve Been Gone

  ~

  Heartbreak’s A Bitch! (Heartbreak #1)

  Love, Lies & Louboutins (Heartbreak #2)

  Copyright 2016 © S.M Phillips. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  About the Author

  S.M Phillips is a fun loving mummy of two from Manchester. When she’s not busy writing, you’ll most likely find her head buried deep inside her kindle with a cup of coffee in hand. Talk to her when she’s reading and things could get pretty colourful, pretty fast. Just ask her hubby.

  She is a lover of chocolate, especially if it has peanut butter inside and she loves a good cocktail or two. She often wonders if she should spend more time buying shoes, like most women, but then she remembers her beautiful never ending TBR list and realises that money can be spent on more important things…

  … BOOKS.

  If you would like to stay up to date with S.M Phillips, you can follow her social media sites below.

  AUTHOR PAGE: www.facebook.com/sphillipsauthor

  TWITTER: www.twitter.com/s_m_phillips_

  INSTAGRAM: www.instagram.com/smphillips_

  GOODREADS: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6987978.S_M_Phillips

  READER GROUP: www.facebook.com/groups/425452794259902/

  STREET TEAM: www.facebook.com/groups/1744600575786715/

  NEWSLETTER: http://wordpress.us9.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=51d2f0c4c8899acddced3eb20&id=15f50fbc85

  For anyone who says that you can’t, use that as your strength to show them that you can and you will.

  Emily Parker’s 10 golden rules to surviving heartbreak!

  1: CRY.

  Cry like a bitch. It’s all got to come out at some point, so why not get it all over and done with?

  2: DRINK.

  It’s perfectly acceptable to drink your entire body weight in wine; or any other beverage of your choice as long as it contains alcohol. Drink until you can’t drink anymore, throw it all back up, and start all over again. Hence the term ‘Rinse and repeat.’

  3: BINGE.

  It’s also perfectly acceptable to eat your entire body weight in chocolate too.

  4: DRINK.

  Now you might want to repeat step 2 again.

  5: INDULGE.

  Buy yourself something expensive and pretty - preferably on the offending other’s plastic if you still have access to it. Failing that, break into your emergency stash, as heartbreak is classed as a rainy day. Just think of all those tears. Go on, you deserve it. Plus, who else is going to treat you?

  6: EXPLORE.

  Fully acquaint yourself with Vinnie the vibrator again. Lord knows you’re going to need him on these long, cold, dark nights. Plus, he can’t argue back so it’s a win-win situation.

  7: DRINK AND BINGE.

  You might feel like repeating steps 2 and 3, so go right ahead. There’s no one left to judge you. Well, not unless you count your work colleagues, but then do you really care what they think?

  8: DISCOVER.

  Finally allow your best friend to introduce you to the world of online dating and turn you into a Tinder trollop. You’ll soon be a raving addict and at least your thumbs will be getting some action. Hey, it’s a body part after all.

  9: CLOSURE.

  Now that you’ve gained some strength back, you need to collect all of his belongings together and get rid of that shit. Rip it, tear it, burn it. Whatever you do, just make sure it’s gone. Remove every aspect of that prick from your life, forever.

  10: BE HAPPY.

  Finally, learn to breathe. Find yourself once again. Repeat steps 2, 3, 5 and 6 - most definitely 6 -to your hearts content, because well, who really needs a man?

  “Okay, you’re really gonna need to order more of these bad boys after the day I’ve had.” I moan, throwing my bag down at the side of me as I let out a long, deep sigh; part frustration and part relief.

  “Shit, Emily, was it that bad?”

  “Was it bad? Was it bloody bad?” She’s got absolutely no idea. Seriously.

  Bad is waking up in the morning to find you’re out of coffee. Bad is walking out the front door, only to realise when it’s much too late that you’ve forgotten to put your knickers on and now you’re forced to parade around commando for the rest of the day next to the office sleaze.

  Bloody hell, what I would have given for it to have just been bad. I guess today I learned that some people out there are well and truly off their nut. It kind of makes me feel normal.

  “You’ve honestly got no idea what I have just been through,” I say, not quite ready to go into too much detail yet. It’s all still too fresh and too raw in my mind. Instead, I reach out and pick up another shot and throw it back, welcoming the sudden assault as the alcohol pleasantly burns its way down my throat, giving me a much-needed distraction. “What the bloody hell is my life, Rachel?” I say a littl
e too loudly, just as the bar falls eerily quiet around us. I can feel the heated stares from the people surrounding us begin to burn into the back of my head. Great, absolutely fan-bloody-tastic. As if I’ve not been embarrassed enough today.

  Trying my best to avoid instant eye contact with any of them, I fluster and end up slamming my shot glass back down on the table before me; albeit, a little too eagerly.

  “You know it’s only like three o’clock in the afternoon, don’t you?”

  “And… Since when did the time matter?” I ask my best friend as she watches me closely.

  “It matters because you and I both know that you’re absolutely shit when it comes to handling your drink, especially the strong stuff.”

  She’s right. Of course, she’s right. She’s always bloody right, this one. But there’s not a cat in hells chance that I’m about to openly admit that to her. “What’s your point? You do know that nobody likes a killjoy, don’t you?” I snap back at her.

  I know that I’m being a complete and utter bitch, but why can’t she see that I just need a moment? Now really isn’t the time to start asking ridiculous questions. There is a time and a place for all that bullshit and in my eyes, that time’s never. All I really want to do is quietly drink myself into a complete oblivion, which shouldn’t take all that long, really. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Plus, at least that way I don’t have to remember how much of a Grade-A fuck up I really am.

  Fabulous, now I’m bloody ready to throw myself the mother of all pity parties.”

  “Oh, come on drama queen. Put your inner bitch back in her box and tell me what happened. You seemed really keen on this one.” She coaxes me calmly in her powerful soothing voice.

  “Oh, I was.” I let out a hysterical laugh as I remember the crazy butterflies that happily swarmed my stomach earlier this morning. “Ah, who the hell am I trying to kid here, Rach? Maybe I just wasn’t built right or something.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a bloody minute. What the hell are you harping on about now you crazy woman?” Rachel, my best friend laughs at me. The one person who knows me better than anyone else is actually laughing right in my face as she tries to take me seriously, but I can tell just by looking into her warm and kind hazel eyes that she’s failing… Miserably.

  “Quit your laughing.” I plead at her. “I’m actually trying my best to be serious here.”

  “Emily, listen to me. How the hell do you expect me to take you seriously when shit like that just randomly flies out of your mouth?”

  “And this is the kind of support that I get.” I silently sigh to myself. I give up, really, I do. When you feel like there’s no hope left, it’s just great when the reality that you’re right just happily slaps you in the face.

  “Rachel, think about it. Just stop for a minute and actually think about what I’m trying to say to you. It all makes perfect sense now…”

  “It does? Well, I’m glad something makes sense to you because let me tell you, you bloody don’t.” Rachel cuts in, but I casually dismiss her concerns with a quick wave of my hand. We can always cover that later. For now, I’ll just have to put it in numb terms for her.

  “I always attract the fuck-ups. No matter what I do, where I go, they always come crawling out of the woodwork and find me.” I say truthfully.

  “Emily, all you need to do is quit looking for perfection.”

  “Excuse me?” My voice comes out on a high pitched squeak, one that sounds just like a pubescent little boy and my eyes grow wide as I not so patiently wait for Rachel’s response.

  “Hey, there’s no need to shout. All I’m saying is that you seem to have raised your standards a little too high. So high, in fact that no one is ever going to be good enough for you. Look, what if one of these fuck-ups, as you so kindly like to call them; what if one of them is actually your one true soulmate? Honestly, honey, you’ll never know unless you lower those goddamn high expectations of yours and give the poor guys a chance.”

  “Do not make me laugh. Are you actually being for real right now, or have you had a recent blow to that pretty little head of yours? How many times do I have to play the bad guy and burst your bubble of awesomeness, only to tell you that there is no such thing as soulmates? It’s just a sad person's messed up dream, actually fooling themselves into believing that fairy tales really do exist. Honestly, Rach, it’s nothing but absolute tosh if you ask me.”

  “Oh, Emily. One day someone may just surprise you and finally break down those steel walls and cut right through that icy, black heart of yours.”

  “It’s icy and black because some little low-life suddenly decided that it would be a flaming cracking idea to openly claim it, play with it for fun, while somehow feeding his own sick and twisted pleasure,” I say, very matter of fact and throw another shot back, only this time my head feels a little hazy.

  “Oh hello. These little shots of goodness are actually quite naughty.” I think to myself while watching Rachel eye me suspiciously, her porcelain heart shaped face cocked to one side with one of her flawlessly threaded brows raised slightly. I know exactly what’s running through her head right now and I don’t want to hear it. Ugh, I hate it when she starts to get all maternal on me. I know she means well and all that, but for crying out loud; I’m almost thirty for god sake.

  I don’t need mothering. Mothering isn’t what I’m after. I need a bloody man in my life, a bit of fun; some excitement. God forgive me if I’m asking for too much, but a little bit of stamina and some pretty good sex wouldn’t go amiss, either.

  “I thought we agreed that you’d relax and have a little fun with all this?”

  “Rach, trust me. As much as I would love to, and I’d really, really love to; there’s absolutely no fricking way that I can relax and have fun with a guy who leers and groans, all the while playing with his nipples when he’s talking to me. It’s just not right.” I add, desperate for her to understand how traumatic it was for me. “Some people might be into that shit, but it’s not for me. And before you start, yes I know that’s saying something. Like I said Rach, complete fuck-ups. Plus, he looked naff all like his profile picture either. I bet his bloody dick-pic was a fake too.”

  “Oh Emily, please say that you weren’t…”

  I smile a gleeful smile as I watch nothing but utter shock glisten in her eyes as they slowly grow wider and wider with each passing second. “God no.” I finally say after a long, dramatic pause. “But listen, if someone’s going to send me an image then you can bet your bloody life that I’m gonna open it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a picture of a cute little kitten or something that resembles a shriveled up portabella mushroom. It’s being opened and the problem lies with the sender and the sender alone. To be fair, though, I didn’t realise that guys still did stuff like that. I mean c’mon, they’re not exactly the prettiest of things to look at, are they?”

  “Ha, you’re right, there. Now don’t get me wrong, some do look pretty decent in the flesh, though. I just don’t think that the vast majority have mastered the perfect angle or Instagram filter just yet.”

  “Dear God. I hope they never do.” I squeal. “Can you imagine? Knowing my bloody luck my phone would end up glowing like Blackpool Tower and end up riddled with Chlamydia or something.”

  I can’t help but shudder at the thought of seeing numerous pictures of a wide variety of man-meat. Jesus, it’d be a bloody cock-fest. In all honesty, receiving the odd dick-pic here and there does absolutely nothing for me, it never has. Bloody hell, if it did then I’d be googling the shit out of them all day long.

  “You know you never said how you got away.”

  “Huh?”

  “From the dude. How did you make your great escape?” She asks again, waving her cocktail glass around excitedly in anticipation.

  “Oh, that?” My mind slowly trickles back to the present and automatically I dutifully reach out for another shot. “Oh my poor liver, please forgive me,” I mutter to myself before throwing
it back. “I just politely informed him that I’d love nothing more than for him to stroke my balls just the way he was caressing his nipples because it was really turning me on and doing all things kind of crazy to me. I might have also told him that as far as I was concerned, the two of us were most definitely in business and I’d love to invite a plus one, obviously if he was into that kind of thing.”

  Rachel’s drink squirts out of her mouth in the most ladylike fashion; from shock, I’m sure. “Oh. My. God, Emily.”

  “What?” I reply back and smile at her proudly. “If he can be rude and creepy enough to do that kind of shit to me, then it’s only fair that I’m a little rude back, no?” Seriously, she doesn’t actually think that I would just happily sit back and allow someone to insult me like that? Regardless of whether you know someone or not, bloody manners cost nothing and they’ll always get you further in life if you use them correctly.

  “Well, I guess I can’t really argue with you when you put it like that, can I? But what would you have actually done if he’d ended up being quite partial to the sound of stroking your balls?” Trust her to come out with something like that. To be honest, that didn’t even really enter my mind. All I could see was a weirdo sitting in front of me getting off on one. I just needed to get away from him and fast.

  “Clearly it wouldn’t have worked out either way for us, would it? I guess we just weren’t meant to be.” I laugh. I have to laugh because if I don’t then I’ll end up turning into an emotional freak of the week right in the middle of our local haunt, all because I can’t bag a bloody guy.

  “Fair play.” Rachel nods and smiles at me and I’m almost certain, yet it could be the alcohol taking over my body, but something very similar to a look of sheer pride dances across her pretty, delicate face.