“I have a diary because I’m not who I say I am.
The ‘me’ you see, isn’t me.
She’s fabricated for your liking.
Trust me, you don’t want to turn my pages.”
Emily Davis has a secret … or two. Even her best friend, Cori, is none the wiser. You see, Em is a part-time sexter and makes a living fooling men into believing whatever it is she wants them to believe. And she’s not ashamed about it. Not in the slightest. Yet, those around her could be, which is why she has kept it a secret … until now. Until a sun-tanned, male revue performer by the name of Brad surfed into her life.
Surfer Brad pushes Em’s boundaries, pushes her buttons and pushes his way into her heart. But will she push him away when she has no choice but to reveal what it is she’s hiding? Everything she’s hiding?
“Ugh! That’s it. I’m getting a boob job,” I groaned, fastening my strapless push-up bra and adjusting what little cleavage I had.
Cori walked into the bathroom and leaned over the basin to get close to the mirror. “On’t be ’upid,” she mumbled while meticulously applying her red lipstick.
“I’m not. I want tits. Big, round, perky tits.”
She turned toward me and eyed my beestings. “No, you don’t.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You have tits.”
“So do you!”
“Lies. All lies. Best friends are not supposed to lie to one another,” I huffed, lifting my arms and applying deodorant.
“Fine. You belong to the Itty Bitty Titty committee. Big deal. At least you don’t have an arse the size of a small swimming pool.” She twisted and assessed her butt.
“Pah-lease! You’ve got to be kidding. There’s nothing wrong with your arse.”
“Says you!” she mocked, pressing her lips together and blotting her lipstick. “Seriously though, listen to us. We females are never entirely happy with our appearance. Always nit-picking. Always finding faults. We’re our own worst enemies and biggest critics. And for what reason other than to highlight our flaws and feel inadequate? It’s just stupid.”
I stared down at my little breasticles with sorrow. They deserved love. It wasn’t their fault they were smaller than most. I really should treat them better. “You’re right,” I said, looking back up. “They’re underdogs, and everyone should love underdogs.”
She blotted her lips together once more. “They should.”
“In fact, I will parade my teeny puppies tonight. I will wear them with pride.”
She nodded. “Good girl.”
I hiked them in my cupped hands, feeling empowered. “I know! Let’s start a revolution.”
Cori laughed. “Let’s not. I know what your revolutions entail.”
Greatness. That’s what they entail. Pure fucking greatness.
“I’m an author. I am married. I am a mother of two adorable little people. I’m a bookworm, craftworm, movieworm, and sportsworm. I’m also a self confessed shop-aholic, tea-aholic, car-aholic, and choc-aholic.” Born and raised in Melbourne, Australia, K.M. Golland studied law and worked as a conveyancer before putting her career on hold to raise her children. She then traded her legal work for her love of writing and found her dream career.