A Bad Boy Stole My Bra- SAMPLE

Chapter 1- SAMPLE

This is a three-chapter sample of the published version of 'A Bad Boy Stole My Bra.' The complete book is available worldwide on Amazon (the e-book version is very cheap) alongside adaptations in French, German, Italian, Indonesian and Turkish. There is also an adaptation on Episode: 'It Started With a Bra' and the SPIN-OFF SEQUEL featuring all of the same characters is available on Wattpad: 'The Anti-Delinquent System.'

O n e : Mario Wins Again

"Mario wins again!"

As the cheesy, overplayed music comes to a close and the screen goes dark, I drop my controller into my lap in defeat. Be it the stuffiness of this room or the fact that this is our sixth tournament today, I lost my first game of Mario Kart in months . . . to my eight-year-old brother. I watch through narrowed eyes as Jack catapults around the room in victory, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal his pale torso. Seriously, what is it with boys and showing their chest when they win something? Is it some sort of animalistic display of dominance originating from our monkey ancestors? I can't help but snort in amusement as I consider this. He's such a little show off. My hands dart out to grab him by the sides and I tug him down to tickle him.

"You wish, monkey boy," I scoff. "We both know that I kicked your butt on the other games."

Jack squirms to free himself from my hold, shooting me a glare as he brushes himself down. He hates me tickling him. "Monkey boy? I beat you with Mario, not Donkey Kong."

I'm way too lazy to explain my thought process to him so I just roll my eyes.

"Riley, can you come here please?" Mom calls from downstairs. If it wasn't for the urgency I can hear in her voice, I would probably make more of a scene asking why she can't just come upstairs to me, but she sounds excited about something. There's a spark of vitality in the words that I haven't heard in a while and it intrigues me.

Mumbling my protest instead, I swing my legs from the beanbag and give Jack a warning look with a clear subliminal message: Steal my seat, I steal your life. Of course, by the time I've reached the door, he's already sitting there. Oh, how I miss the days when I had some kind of authority over him.

As I enter the kitchen, I'm hit with the heart-warming aroma that signals Mom's baking: cupcakes and coffee, like the inside of a Starbucks, but much cosier. It's something that I haven't smelled for quite a while, and my sourness at having to walk all the way down the stairs disappears in a second at the sweetness of the nostalgia. I can't help but smile as I see her standing behind the kitchen counter in an apron. She looks up and brushes her hands off immediately. There's icing sugar in the curls of her hair.

"Come and look at this," she says, beckoning, abandoning her half-iced cupcakes. She leads me over to the kitchen window and pulls back the plaid drapes ever so slightly, just enough for me to peek through. Shooting her a look of bewilderment and wondering if this has anything to do with the new geraniums she bought yesterday, I squeeze my head into the gap and look out at the neighbours' driveway. I was expecting a potted plant, so what I see instead surprises me greatly.

We have new neighbours.

Parked next door, in the house that has been empty for almost six months now, is a large removals truck. The giant green anomaly overshadows the small car beside it, and my eyebrows rise further upwards as I watch the family climbing out of the vehicle. A woman steps out first, and reaches into the back to grab a small girl from the backseat. Her dark curls are scraped back into a clasp, and her features are delicate and feminine. It's nice that someone around Mom's age is moving in next door – my mom could use someone to talk to living so close by. The girl the woman carries is around the age of four or five, with the cutest baby face I've ever laid eyes on and two brunette bunches on either side of her head. Adorable.