A Wish Filled Romance

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Hola my awesome readers! Glad to see your back! For those of you who are new to my works, then know this...One, I never write a sad ending because I do not want to recieve a bill in the mail saying how I owe all these people a new computer and or phone from them throwing it across the room because they were mad with how  I ended things. I have been tempted to do so with past stories on here. Two, I update quite frequently. Anywhere from 2-3 times a week, depending on my shedual. Three, I loooove your comments, because without them I wouldn't want to write anymore. You all make me want to continue writing. And finally four...just have fun reading!

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Ooo! And I need a book cover for this story...cuz let's face it...mine sucks! ;P

A Wish Filled Romance….



A Wish Filled Romance….





Gordon’s POV:

If you got the chance to literally step away and talk to yourself, would you? Or better yet, how would you react? Would you talk calmly and reminisce on old memories?


If I could do that I’d be berating myself and giving myself a swift a*s kicking. I knew I was a douche bag to put it lightly. I’ve wasted so much time being full of myself and thinking I was God’s gift to man kind.

I was a moron.


But what did you expect when your parents treat you as if you are better than everyone else? Gave you anything you asked for and more? I never needed or wanted anything in my life. Kids envied me, and I used to revel in it. To have them fear my power and the things I was capable with just a snap of my fingers or a request to my parents.


I was an only child to a multi-million dollar family, so of course they did anything I asked.

I loved to make fun of the weak and powerless in my school, to show them who was top dog. It made me feel like I could do anything I wanted. No one could stop me, but then one day I stumbled upon a lamp while on a beach trip with the guys. I nearly chucked it into the water. That was the day my life changed forever.


That was the day I began to fall for the genie in the lamp.






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