by Nicole Williams Published Crash - Nicole Williams (1).epub. KB. Clash - Nicole Williams (2).epub. KB. Crush - Nicole Williams (3).epub. KB. 7. Crash #1 by Nicole Williams Clash #2 by Nicole Williams Crush #3 by Nicole Williams. Nicole Williams is the New York Times bestselling author of Crash, Clash, and Crush, and numerous other books, including the young adult novels Trusting You .
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Home>; JUVENILE FICTION>; Love & Romance>; The Complete Crash Collection - EPUB. Share This Title: The Complete Crash Collection. Read a Sample. Read “Crush”, by Nicole Williams online on Bookmate – The conclusion to the New York Times To read this book, upload an EPUB or FB2 file to Bookmate. Crash (Crash, #1), Clash (Crash, #2), Crush (Crash, #3), and The Crash Trilogy: Includes Crash, Clash and Crush (Crash, #).
Of course Lucy turns him right down but he's not one to be deterred. He sees something special in her and is willing to turn his life around for the better in order to win her heart. The road to that isn't smooth - its drama-filled, with page -turning twists, heart-break and secrets that took me completely by surprise and I loved every minute of it! He's "a boy with beautiful eyes and an ugly past", a total and complete bad boy with a bit of a temper especially triggered when people attack or insult his girl who has led a very rough life, but has a heart of gold and is just totally into his girl!
She stood up to her parents, she didn't let gossip get the better of her, she had a huge heart and took a chance on Jude when all the signs were pointing against it. Jude and Lucy have a lot of roadblocks in their path, but I just loved that neither of them really denied their affections for each other. They struggled through some pretty tough times, but throughout it all, their hearts belonged to each other I'll need you to promise me something If I ever mess things up again, whether it's a missunderstanding or shit luck, or I just do what I was created to do and screw everything up I want you to promise me you'll leave.
Drop me like a bad habit and don't look back, because god knows, it can't be me that walks away since I'm incapable of it. Is that? He's a lover or an ex-lover, but never a friend. Men like that weren't created to be a woman's friend - they were created to make a woman hit high C three times in a row.
The only thing I would have wished for was an epilogue. To date, I never had, but the last time I'd let one of these moments pass was last fall when a boy working at a restaurant my family visited while on vacation delivered a pizza to our table.
He'd dropped the pizza on the table, told us to enjoy, and then, right as he was leaving the table, he looked and me. My heart went boom-boom, my head got all foggy, and I felt this ache inside when he turned and walked away, like we were tied together by a fixed rope.
I'd let exactly four of these soul typhoons pass unexplored, but I'd made a pact of the utmost sacredness with myself that I wouldn't let a fifth go by in the same kind of way.
I was never sure if the person on the other end of that look felt the same kind of intensity I did, so when Prince Hot Damn turned away, tackling someone into the sand, I knew I ran the risk of him thinking I was one of those girls who made an art-form of preying upon beautiful boys minding their own business. I didn't care, I wouldn't let another one of these moments go. Life was short and I'd been a firm believer in seizing the moment for the majority of my life.
Then, he came to another standstill, like my stare was freezing him in place, before looking back. This time it wasn't a glance. It was a good five second stare where his eyes did that dumbfounded thing mine were doing to me.
His smile had just begun its upward journey into position when a football whizzed right into the side of his face. It was one of those moments you saw played out in movies: wide-eyed boy staring at girl, oblivious to the world around him until the laces of a football indented his forehead.
And since she's got a book, she probably knows how to read, so she's smart enough to know to avoid guys like you. I saw the reciprocation in his eyes, that and more.
It was only a matter of how much time he wanted to play it cool until he came over. I had all day. That was what I reassured myself with as he threw the caught boy over his shoulder and ran the both of them into the lake, dunking up and down until the boy was squealing with laughter.
I reassured myself again when he and the boy trudged from the water and returned to the cluster of boys playing football and picked up right where he left off, not sparing a single look my way. I tried to distract myself with the book below me, but when I found myself reading the same paragraph for the sixth time, I gave up. Still not another look my way, like I was invisible. When a second hour passed in the same way, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.
If he wasn't going to come to me and I wasn't quite ready to go to him, I'd just have to make him.
I'd found boys were fairly simple creatures to figure out, at least on a primal level-on a mind, heart, and soul matter they were about as confounding to me as thermal dynamics-and since primal was just a nice term for raging hormones, I decided to use their overabundance of teenage boy ones to my advantage.
Grabbing a liter of water from my beach bag, I rose to a stand, making every movement slow and deliberate. At least without looking ridiculous.
His eyes weren't on me as I stood and adjusted my bikini just so, but a few male sets were. Good sign I was doing the right thing, but bad sign he wasn't noticing since this whole stunt was set into motion for him. Pulling my clip from my mass of hair, it fell down my back, and I shook it into position for good measure.
I practically cursed under my breath when I chanced another look his way to find him in utter oblivion. What's a girl got to do to get a boy's attention these days? I walked back towards the picnic table where the newest addition to our family, the furry kind, was still smiling through his panting. The boy played the best game of beach football I'd ever had the pleasure of watching. My furry friend offered a few licks over my arm before his wet nose nudged at my leg.
I could have been reading into the nudge of encouragement a bit, but when his doggy eyes tracked over to Jude and his doggy smile stretched farther, I laughed.
I know it's a woman's world and all, but there's still some things I like old-fashioned," I said, scratching behind his matted ears.
Don't call the feminist movement and rat me out or else no steak for you tonight. I kept my head forward, but my eyeballs were as far in the corners as they'd go, watching as he sailed the football to another little boy.
If standing, stretching, and swimsuit adjustment weren't working, with dinner not even an hour away, I'd have to resort to drastic, or desperate, measures. I was as stubborn as I was a sucker, and since I'd waited this long for him to come over, I wasn't going to give up now.
Giving up was not in my blood. I stretched on my blanket, stomach down, twisting my arms behind me to pull the string free of its tension. In my experience as a seventeen year old girl, seven of those years having boobs that required a bra, undoing that one little knot at the center of your back had about a ninety-five percent accuracy rate of attracting any male within a five beach towel radius.
The last trick in my bag. I made a pillow of my sundress and pretended to be nothing more than concerned with minimizing my tan lines, but as I took a quick survey of the area, every male eye within five beach towels was staring. Except for him. A few whistles even sounded from his fellow football player's lips, of which I played ignorant, but still, not the slightest of looks in my direction.
One of my friends at my old school had once told me that if ever a day came where our intended male targets didn't flock our way after this last ditch effort, it would be time to send word to the pope that a miracle needed to be inspected.
Get Rome on the phone because a miracle was playing out in front of me as the only boy I wanted to notice was the only one who didn't. Darn you, serendipity and soul typhoons.
I'd give him five more minutes before I'd force myself to swallow my pride and make a move. I knew if I had to approach him, I'd likely get denied, but I wasn't going to let another one of these pass me by. Carpe diem, baby.