Aurora_Moon

Just wanted to know if wicked lies is still being updated before i subscribe again

Hi guys,

I have been struggling with this chapter and I am almost finished with this one (after multiple rewrites) and I still unsure about it! So I'd thought I'd post it here and get your opinions while I work on the next part 🖤

Can I get your honest opinions please?
🖤


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AVERY

I exhale, mentally preparing myself for what lies behind this door. My stomach clenches in discomfort, not from the tiny Winters’ making its home in my uterus, but the formidable force waiting on the other side. Drake’s mother.

I am walking into this clueless, the topic of discussion wasn’t included, only a time, date, and a place. Rather ominous, and Drake wasn’t around to pick his brain, he left early this morning to handle business. Raising my chin, I straighten my shoulders, and push through the barrier, ready for whatever awaits me inside. Mrs. Winters’ sits at a large oak table, her friendly smile a distant memory, replaced with a stern thin line. Her aura is unreadable, but serious, her harshness enough to cut me down.

Don’t let her.

She’s not alone, two women I don’t recognize sit beside her, different folders sitting before them. Whatever this meeting is about, it’s important, and complicated. The energy is oppressive, but another, more complex aura sits underneath it all, and I’m unsure what to make of it.

“Avery,” Sheila says, as I settle into the office chair, with my head held high. This is a test, to see if I have the gumption to be part of this family, and I cannot afford to fail. “Welcome, thank you for joining us, and please settle in. We will be here for a while. This is Ms. Erickson and Ms. Lyle, they’re partners with Erickson, Lyle, and Dodds. They’re the lawyers for all Winter wives, past, current, and future.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I nod in greeting, relaxing into the chair, a million questions running through my mind. Although, the most important is screaming at me. “And who employs you? Drake, or his father, Mr. Winters?”

“Neither,” Sheila answers, remaining stoic, but there’s a glimmer of pride in there. “They’re employed through a trust, which is managed by the Winters’ women.”

Ms. Erickson pulls a file from her pile, sliding it across the table, and into my waiting hands. “Once you’re officially married, we will manage it alongside Jade.”

“This file contains all the rules and regulations of the trust,” Ms. Lyle informs me, handing me a note pad, and a pen, in case, for notes and adjustments. “Our primary responsibility it to help create prenups, post-nuptials, divorces.”

“And this,” Ms. Erickson slides a stake of papers thick enough to be a novel. “Is the prenup, take your time to examine it for any mistakes or issues.”

Without waiting a moment longer, I reach across the table, my fingers wrap around a notepad and pen, pulling them closer. Flashbacks haunt me as I turn the page, this scenario pulling me back to my father’s office. With its offensive leather scent, mingling his sour odor. Even as a child, my father’s natural musk, never comforted me, or gave me solace. My eyelids flutter, trying to drag myself from the horrid memories without going into a full-blown panic attack.

I’m on the verge of collapsing, the hallucination vivid and tangible, almost like I am reliving it all over again. My fist tightens around the pen, my breathing turns erratic, remembering my father’s authoritarian nature and demeaning gaze. He always had the power to make me crumble, even now, when I haven’t been in his presence for weeks. The shakes start and goosebumps form along my flesh, my hairs standing on edge. I’m spiraling and quick, if I don’t snap out out it soon, I’ll only end up embarrassing myself.

You’re going to be a Winters’, Frederick no longer has power over you. And neither does Hayden.

Drake’s promises resonate through my psyche, giving me the strength I desperately need in this moment. Even when he’s not around, he’s still holding me hostage in a mental prison, one of my making. I guess, the only thing to do is unlock the door and free myself.

**********

Black ink covers the paper as I flip it over, making more room for more notes, and suggestions. Drake’s mother hasn’t moved a muscle, her gaze hasn’t dropped or shifted from my person. We’ve been here for hours, no one speaking, the sound of computer keys clacking and paper turning fills in the silence. I turn the last page, relief radiating through my achy bones, tired from being locked in this uncomfortable position for a while.

I push the papers away from me, happiness flowing through my veins as my muscles extend, stretching out and over my head. The lawyers already have my suggestions in hand, going over the last page with a fine-tooth comb, whispering amongst themselves. Mrs. Winters’ hasn’t spoken, her beady gaze nearly lighting me on fire. Her aura unreadable, inscrutable, and hard to decipher. Her normally cheery and inviting attitude is no where to be found, instead its harsh glares leaving me unsettled and unsure. What is she thinking? And did I pass this test?

“Give my son a run for his money, did you?” Her words are icy, but her irises have an untamed warmth, confusing me more than I already am.

“No,” I respond, rolling my shoulders out, trying to relieve the tension. “I negotiated what’s best for me.”

“Good,” she breaks into a smile, leaning back in her chair, “it’s always better to keep these men on their toes. It’s practically mandatory at this point. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they agree, with nods, not moving their attention from the computer or or my notes. “We can have these adjustments made and returned to Mr. Winters’ within the hour.”

“Very well,” she stands, pushing herself away from the table. “Come along, Avery, our day together is far from over.”

“It’s not?” I ask, raising to meet her, my back cracking as I straighten out, my muscles stiffer than normal.

“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head, her long legs striding to the door, turning on her heel, she waves me along, her movements hurried and impatient. “Well, come along, we have a lot to do and very little time.”

She’s out the door, and halfway down the hall, before I can catch up. Her pace is quick and determined, as she leads me through the house, and into the dining room where a group of people wait for our arrival.

“Sheila, darling,” A middle-aged woman rushes forward, with a heavy French accent, kissing the cheeks of my future mother-in-law. Her turquoise blue irises flutter to me, not waiting for an introduction, before she’s wrapping me up in her arms, lips landing on my skin. “And this must be our beautiful bride, Avery.”

She nods, but her attention is on the decor laid out on the tables. “Yes, this is Miss Grenier, our party planner, and stylist.”

“You’re exactly as Drake described,” she smiles, grabbing my hand, dragging me toward the tables. “I brought a few different samples for you today, but your fiancé recommended this theme.”

She stops before a beautiful art déco setting, the crystal candle holders, surround a bouquet of perfect blush roses. Pearls drape along the sides, adding a delicate touch, which pairs nicely with the gold accents. China plates with a thick gold rim, siting atop is a folded napkin, with a menu tucked inside. Soft rose petals brush against my finger, calling attention to the decorated chairs. They’re painted the same color as precious medals, wrapped with ivy, roses, and pearls.

The combination is breathtaking, my gaze locked on it, not paying attention to any of the other options. At least, not long enough to notice anything more than the color palette. All of which are variations of pink. My attention turns to Mrs. Winters, whose only seems to have eyes for me. Her gaze is nearly burning holes in the back of my head.

“Would you like to examine the other options?” Ms. Grenier says, rattling me enough I jump on my feet, and remember her presence.

“No need,” I shake, smiling down at the choice sitting before me, knowing it’s the only viable option. It’s pink and graceful, while simultaneously rigid, and practical. It’s the perfect combination to represent Drake and I. “This is the one.”

“Rather decisive,” Ms. Grenier comments, but they’re not directed to me, rather Mrs. Winters, who is behind me quieter than a church mouse. She’s silent, but observing every move and moment with precision, still testing me. “Isn’t she?”

“She will be a Winters’ after all.” Sheila croons, and confidence surges through my limbs, easing the worry in my gut. She steps up alongside us, getting a closer examination of the theme I have chosen.

“Did you have another color palette in mind?” Mrs. Grenier asks, signaling to her assistant, who rushes forward with a binder filled with swatches. “Mr. Winters mentioned your favorite color was pink, but he wasn’t sure if you’d want to choose something different.”

“As usual, Drake is correct,” I smile, not the least bit mad at the direction he has given Mrs. Grenier. Without his instruction, we’d spend hours going over design and colors, which isn’t something I can handle right now. No matter the amount of sleep I get, it never seems to be enough. My energy is depleted before I even crawl out of bed in the morning. He’s shaved hours off of this meeting, knowing I’d need it, because I barely function without an afternoon nap. “This blush rose pairs nicely with the gold, it’s simple, and elegant. Don’t you agree?”

I turn my attention to Sheila, wanting her opinion, hoping this experience can bond us, creating a solid foundation to our budding relationship. While Drake doesn’t need his mother’s approval, I would still like for us to be on good terms, and this is a great place to start.

“It’s a brilliant combination.” She exclaims, her grin wide, and welcoming, not a hint of malice or subtle snark. “The light pink reminds me of your shy personality, but it’s still bright and vibrant. The gold obviously represents the Winters’ family, and the subtle hints of black incorporate Drake nicely.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I beam, exhaling in relief, hearing the sincerity in her voice, excited to know we are on the same wavelength.

“And you couldn’t have picked a better theme,” Mrs. Grenier, includes leading us over us to a small table, where waiters are setting up plates. Her assistants pull out our chairs, allowing us to sit before pushing us in. “Now, that our theme and color palette, we need to decide on the menu.”

“Now, Sheila and I were talking about passed hors d’oeuvres for cocktail hour,” Mrs. Grenier says, catching me off guard.

“I’m sorry, hors d’oeuvres?” My attention flitters to Sheila, seeking confirmation that I heard correctly. “Isn’t this supposed to be a family only affair?”

“Yes, it is,” Sheila nods, laying the napkin out on her lap, “but the Winters’ family includes our bodyguards, and other important staff. Will that be a problem for you?”

“Not at all,” I shake not a hint of a lie in my response. I’d rather celebrate with people who actually care about our wellbeing, then dredges of our elite “friends” and social circle. “The more the merrier.”

Waiters set plates on the table, each filled with tiny, bite sized foods. The colorful finger foods span many cultures, with Japanese, Italian, and American influence. Tiny spicy tuna rolls, bruschetta, small kebobs, lobster mac and cheese bites, and a few other options litter the plates. My stomach flips with excitement, the tiny Winters’ in my gut eager to get their grubby little paws on these snacks.

Without waiting for instruction, I pop the sushi roll into my mouth; groaning with delight and euphoria. My eyes roll into the back of my head, while I salivate as the spiciness hits my tastebuds, contrasting nicely with the fresh cucumber inside. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s damn difficult to resist when my dreams are explicit, and consumed with dancing tuna rolls. One bite can’t hurt, right? I’ve barely swallowed and the guilt is already consuming me. It’s not pretty.

Sheila and I try each one, going over what we like and dislike about each, dwindling down the fifteen options into six. Next, we move on to the main course; the waiters placing different options before us. We spend the next hour and a half picking the best menu to appease all the guests, which seemed impossible, I cannot imagine the difficulty if our wedding size was going to be bigger. My insides are bloated, I’m stuffed, and unable to make room for more, but somehow I do. Mrs. Grenier's staff sets down numerous cake options, explaining the flavors of each one as we try it.

Hello! If I become a subscriber will I be able to read more chapters of “shooting his shot” ? Because it says that there are only four chapters in the story but it’s included in the paid subscription 😅

Dear Readers,


I want to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you for reading my books and subscribing to my updates. Your support means the world to me! I wanted to let you know that I will be taking a break from updating for a little while as I am currently on the ground, actively helping out in the upcoming elections.


During this important time, I encourage all of you to make sure you’re registered to vote. No matter who you support, every voice deserves to be heard. I truly appreciate your continued support, and I look forward to updating you with the next chapter of Wicked Lies when I return.


Thank you all!


💙 Aurora Moon 💙

My *Obsession tier* will officially close for the Wicked Lies Book Box on Friday, 7/19/2024. (You can still enroll after this date, however you will only receive the book box for Shooting His Shot.)


Book Box includes:

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Heyy! When is there going to be an update on “shooting his shot”? I’m literally obsessed with this story 😍

Hello Readers,
Chapter 3 of Shooting His Shot is up on Inkitt. Be sure to add this baby to your library if you're a subscriber to any of my 3 tiers :)

Hello readers,

Just stopping into the suggest an author friend of mine who has a story for free on Inkitt!

Be sure to check her out! Ginger Grimes -- https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/1161578

LAST DAY!
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Hello fabulous followers!
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