Hate made him famous and fame took his sister in SHOOK, Sonya Jesus’ new romantic suspense. This twisted Cinderella retelling brings to life a killer obsessed by a True Crime Blogger and her internet famous crush. Fans of dark fairytale retellings with a splash of crime will love this new adult romance. Part of the Internet Famous Collection, Shook is now LIVE!
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Hate made me famous. Fame took my sister.
As of midnight on my twenty-first birthday, I became the wealthiest man in America, and my sister went missing. Given her history, my parents insist on saving face in the cruel world of the filthy rich. They’re betting she’s on a bender with her latest boy-toy, but she’s not.
Nola would never miss my birthday, at least not willingly. Something’s not right, and I don't give a lick about family rules or distracting myself with the fine print on the morality clause. Locking down a future with some random chick won't find my sister or give me the answers I want.
Though, I rather those answers not come from Norah, the pain-in-the-ass wannabe blogger who is living in my home and insisting on cleaning up my act. Someone forgot to tell her she's a maid, not a publicist. But when one of her few True Crime subscribers writes to her about my sister, the clues lead us on a hunt for a killer.
What we find... leaves us shook.
Copyright 2020 @ Sonya Jesus
Butt-ass naked. That’s how he opens the damn door, dangling ornaments and all. I pry my eyes away and glance at the pig-sty, he calls a bedroom. Clothes are thrown everywhere, books and magazines all over the floor, every surface has a mug, and it stinks. Considering the whole house looks immaculate, I’m wondering what happened here. Orin clears his throat, which does little to get Ledger to cover up. “Mr. Ledger, can you please find something suitable to cover up with? Norah has taken anatomy; she doesn’t need a study session.” Accidentally, I snort aloud and quickly cover it up with a cough when both men’s eyes land on me. Ledger rests against the door frame, not an ounce of shame on his two-hundred-pound muscular body. “The smell,” I offer as a cover-up, "it got all up in my nostrils." The last thing I need is a lesson on anything from the Internet’s porn star. “Ah, yes.” Orin raises his hand in the air, inviting me in without Ledger okaying it. “Mr. Ledger has been having issues dealing with his sister’s supposed disappearance. Nine days, I assume, is enough social isolation.” “Isolation?” I ask the naked man, who has not budged, without making eye contact. No way in hell am I going inside if he doesn’t move. His massive form takes up most of the space—not in height, because rich people have something against normal-sized doors, but in width. His wide arms are almost unnatural and yet utterly fascinating this up close and personal. The dips and grooves of his pectorals are magnetic, nearly sinking my jaw to the floor when the future-doctor in me counts each abdominal. For anatomical purposes, I tell myself. Symmetrical. No malformations anywhere on him. Well, except his personality.
Ledger flicks his gorgeous grayish-blue eyes over me before rolling his head and removing himself from the doorframe, turning his perfectly sculpted ass to me as he strolls over to his bed and picks up a pair of dark denim jeans. “You could leave me alone for another few days, O.” “To do what? Mope around?” Orin picks up a shirt from a folded pile on the desk and throws it at him. Ledger expertly catches it in the air, flexing his biceps in the process. “To grieve. To deal with losing a sister,” he spits back. “She’s not dead,” I pipe up as I come inside. There's no point in dismissing the opportunity of talking to a source. Ledger stops midway, one pant leg up at his knee, and glares at me. Orin finds my statement intriguing, or maybe he’s just constipated. He kind of looks like he’s holding in a tank of gas between his butt cheeks, and this place smells like methane and decomposition. “Excuse me?” Ledger clips out, earning me a sympathetic look from the house manager. “Mr. Ledger—” Orin’s intervention is quickly cut short. “Has she signed the NDA?”
Sonya’s a nerd—a cool nerd—who loves science, books, make-up and unicorns. She even has unicorn slippers and unicorn plushes adorn her office. It’s not obsession (or so she says), it’s simply an ode to her imaginative side.
She believes in fairytales and in the beautiful things a mind can conjure. She’s a firm believer of empowering the crazy fictional ideas, putting them down on paper (figurative paper because she’s not a fan of writing in notebooks), and letting them flourish into a story. Sometimes that story is about psychos and murders.
Don’t believe me? Ask her in any of her social media. She’s all about those connections.
“There’s so much potential in a dream, not exploring it seems like such a waste of something absolutely beautiful.”