Hating Her Ex Forever

Table of Contents Title Page Hating Her Ex Forever Copyright Thank You! One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Thirty-One Thirty-Two Thirty-Three Thirty-Four Thirty-Five Thirty-Six Thirty-Seven Thirty-Eight Thirty-Nine Forty Epilogue Books by Brynn Paulin Hating Her Ex Forever Cherish Cove: The Wellston By Brynn Paulin Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC Powered by Your Imagination Hating Her Ex Forever by Brynn Paulin Bristol He left me. Six years ago, Axel Pendleton, the love of my life, the man I was supposed to marry, left me to pursue his stock car racing career. To him, it was one or the other. Racing or me. I was black flagged and left choking on his retreating dust. Is it any wonder I hate him? Worse, he doesn’t even know what he left behind. I wonder if he’ll care when he finds out. Axel That’s not how it was. Bristol is wrong about a few details. In particular...the “supposed to marry” part. And when she finds out the truth, then she might end up hating me even more. But if I have my way, I’ll no longer be an ex. I’ll be her forever. Copyright © 2023, Brynn Paulin Hating Her Ex Forever Cover Art by Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-62344-429-7 Published by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental. Thank You! Thank you for your purchase of Hating Her Ex Forever. I hope you enjoy the story and will consider leaving a review or telling a friend about the book. I love hearing from readers! To keep in touch and follow my news, please visit me on my website at www.brynnpaulin.com. One Axel Pendleton My head throbbed as my assistant, Marta Kurtz, cued up the latest NASCAR news and forced me to listen to the two hosts discussing bad boy, Alex Pendleton, again. “I didn’t do that,” I muttered, leaning back in the lounge chair of my motor home and staring out the large window into the bright sunlight. In the next lot, one of my competitors chased his daughter around the lawn furniture set up beside their own rig, stretching their legs before traveling. Today, we were all departing the exhibition location, some heading to their homes, for a final stint of off time before things got serious. More serious, anyway. In fact, a bunch of the drivers and their families had already moved out late last night after the exhibition races had finished. We had two weeks before the season officially began, and one week before the drivers reported to Daytona for testing, practices and qualifying. I needed to start stuffing the gear I wanted to take with me into my duffle bag. I didn’t keep a place during the season, choosing to spend all my time in my motorhome or at hotels. Renting a place I wouldn’t see the inside of for weeks on end, made no sense to me, and I had no desire to buy a place. Not at this stage in my life. So my crap was either with me, in this motorhome that I did in fact own, or in my storage unit in Charlotte, North Carolina, where the team’s headquarters were located. “Al, there are pictures,” Marta scoffed. In the swivel chair across from me, she tapped her fingers on her long leg, which she had crossed over the other. Her foot, encased in a shiny candy apple red heel, that ironically matched my car, bobbed up and down. The short, straight skirt of her suit hiked up to expose a good amount of her tanned thigh. Some guys might be interested in that display. I was utterly unimpressed and not in the slightest enticed by the sight. As my assistant and so-called righthand, who listened to the team’s owner more than she did me, not only was she off-limits and at least ten years older than me, but she was a perpetual pain in my ass. “I don’t care about pictures,” I growled. Hell, I hated it when she called me Al. How hard was it to say Axel? Or Ax? But no… Marta eliminated the middle of my name, practically whining it out when she said it. Just like everything else she did lately, it got on my nerves—especially with the hammers pounding at my temples this morning. It wasn’t from a hangover, though commentators would have pinned the cause on that if they knew. Rather it was post-race dehydration and lack of good sleep. Pushing aside the pain and my irritation at her, for now, I focused on the annoyance at hand. “I didn’t run through some fricking fountain naked. I have more sense than to do that. Has the video even been authenticated? You know what they’re doing with AI shit now.” She rolled her eyes. “What?” she asked. “You want them to compare the dick in that video to yours?” “No,” I groused. Fuck. Why would she even suggest that? Thank God, the member in question was blurred in all the footage. I had no doubt a search of the web would show the “Full Monty”, the so-called evidence. “It’s not me,” I reiterated, completely pissed I was the target of image bashing again. That seemed to be my thought of the morning. Again, again, fucking again. Why did this keep happening? “The video says otherwise.” “Well, maybe, it’s AI created, like I said. Maybe, it’s a lookalike. Maybe…it’s not