I came across this fic and have become good friends with Sparrow and I'm completely baffled by the lack of reviews this awesome story has so far. I know numbers aren't everything, but most readers go by review count and it's so sad to see something get passed by. So please, read this story. You'll enjoy every moment.
Summary: Boot camp in the freezing winter sounds like hell on earth, but is there anything that would make it bearable? Bring on the sexy soldiers! A little bit of fun. All Human
Status: In the works (Sparrow updates about every two weeks)
If you like a story with funny, hilarious antics between friends in the name of catching a guy's attention...then this is for you.
Chapter 1 Teaser
"HOLY JESUS CHRIST ON A BICYCLE!"
Ro's screech nearly made me jump out of my skin.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I looked over and she was precariously perched on her desk, peering out of the window. Her assignment was forgotten and half crumpled under her knees; the rest was scattered over the floor.
"Get me the pirate telescope, quick!" she shouted, holding her hand out behind her, without breaking her gaze.
"Ro," I grumbled, "I'm comfy here; get it yourself."
I'd been lying on my bed in our dorm room for the past hour, reading trashy magazines and stuffing my face with cookies. Instead, I should have been finishing my riveting assignment on the 'Correlation between prison conditions and inmates' behaviour'. It wasn't my personal choice of topic; Ryan Gosling's abs and the 'Top ten red carpet fashion disasters' were all I wanted to analyse right now.
"B, get your ass over here and pass me the telescope. NOW!" she screamed. It just made me laugh before I returned to my magazine.
"If you don't get me the damn telescope in the next ten seconds I will call your Mom and tell her you gave Professor Banner a blow job to get your latest grade, AND I will add he only gave you a C minus."
"You wouldn't dare."
Without moving her eyes from the window, she picked up her phone and speed dialled my Mom.
I jumped up off the bed, diving towards her to grab the phone.
"Okay, Okay, I'll get it."
Unfortunately, my foot landed on the last magazine I'd unceremoniously dumped on the floor, causing me to slide into the splits. The splits are not recommended for someone like me - someone who is as flexible as a plank of wood.
"Fuckity fuck … aahh … I literally just broke my lady bits, you idiot." I crumpled in a heap on the carpet, a worryingly sharp burning pain shooting through my groin.
She was laughing at me now. In fact, I'd probably class it as hysterics. She was holding her stomach, tears running down her stupid cheeks.
"What the hell are you doing?" She tried to catch her breath, continuing to giggle as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I didn't need you to perform a gymnastic routine to deliver it to me."
"Ha ha, smart ass." I dragged myself off the floor and rooted around for the telescope in my drawer.
I know having a telescope is a bit weird by anyone's standards, unless you're an astronomer or you own a really big ship, but ours was the result of a fancy dress party for our friend Peter.
Everyone had to dress as something beginning with "P".
Yep, there were at least five penises there that night.
Ro went as a plant.
Yes, a plant.
She had worn nude coloured underwear and stuck loads of leaves, twigs and vines to herself. She somehow still managed to look sexy with palm tree fronds sticking out of her head.
As per usual, I'd left it till the last second, and the only outfit left was a pirate. I wore the obligatory eye patch, striped leggings, skull and crossbones hat and of course the telescope. Unfortunately there were no parrots left.
I perched a penguin on my shoulder instead.
Retrieving the telescope, I walked over to Ro's side of the room to see what was going on outside the window.
It had better be good.
"What'cha looking at?" I pinched her to get her attention. She slapped my hand away and grabbed the scope.
"Mmm-mm-mmm … there is one hell 'ova good-looking man outside," she purred, focusing in on him, "and not only that, but he's a man in a uniform, and you know I can't resist a man in a uniform."
I shoved her over and climbed onto her desk to get a better view. "Let me see this."
"Hey!" She pouted, giving me a dirty look. "I saw him first."
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Summary: Bella has nailed her dream job as Seattle Times' newest Outdoors writer. She's found new friends and is settling into life in her new city. Things are coming together for her, but an arrogant stranger sends her reeling at every turn. Will her new life be as comfortable as she'd hoped, or is she set for a rocky ride? AH B&E
Yosemite Decimal System (YDS) - n. the most common system used to rate difficulty in the North America. Most technical rock climbing is rated on a scale of 5.0 to 5.15 with higher numbers representing harder climbs. Grades are generally subject to the weather, length of the route, the type of rock, and the whims of the first ascensionist.
Definition amended from rockclimbing dot com
Status: In progress
I helped beta chapter 1 from Project Team Beta, and I immediately knew that this fic was going to be something great.
Meet the Bulldozer
Edward and Bella don't necessarily get along at first, but it's certainly good fun reading these two.
Chapter 1 Tease:
A whoosh of cold air hits me at the same time a solid wall of person does. Being the classy, coordinated kind of girl I am, I hit the ground with an expletive. My stuff scatters as I go sprawling.
"Can't you at least watch where you walk?" a smooth voice snaps at me, as icy as the night air.
I'm about to return the sentiment when I look up into the greenest pair of eyes I've ever seen. These eyes are not only green, but cold—and they are shooting invisible daggers directly at me.
The asshole in question is topped with brown hair which is tinged in red and maybe a touch of gold. It's a true testament to his eyes that I noticed them before the rest of his tall, toned body. When I do notice his body, there's no stopping my eyes running across his business shirt-covered, defined chest. Rock climbing guys' bodies … there's really nothing like them. This one is clearly a climber.
Broad, strong, muscled shoulders are hidden beneath a long-sleeved, button-down white shirt. His forearms—which are on full view, thanks to rolled-up sleeves—are lightly dusted with brown hair and ripple with roped muscles. They are further defined by veins that are more pronounced below the surface of his skin.
Then, there are his hands. They are large, but I can't see his palms, which would confirm or deny my suspicions about whether he climbs or not. His hands are balled into fists.
Shaking my head and taking in my surroundings, I notice that this perfect specimen of man has planted me firmly on my ass in front of a bunch of people. I'm humiliated, and when I'm humiliated, I get angry.
"It takes two to tango, asshole," I retort. I begin to sweepingly gather my strewn stuff. Aforementioned asshole is still standing there, glaring at me.
"And he doesn't even offer to help," I mutter under my breath. "Ever heard of fucking manners?"
Still grumbling, I continue stuffing my things into my bag. Zipping it up furiously, I rise to my full height. I still have to look up; my full height barely reaches his chin. I stare him straight in the eye, and scowl at him. The man looks back, his expression giving nothing away. Then, he smirks.
Of all the arrogant... Now, I'm fuming.
I continued to stare into his eyes, which now appear to show mild amusement. I try to even my breathing, my insides fluttering and heart flying. Despite my unbridled anger, there's something else going on in my body. I find myself looking at his lips, which are full. He has a day's growth on his chin, and I can't help but wonder what it feels like.
Something about him draws me in, yet at the same time screams: stay away.
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