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    Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4: Reflections of Love, #4
    Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4: Reflections of Love, #4
    Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4: Reflections of Love, #4
    Ebook82 pages1 hourReflections of Love

    Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4: Reflections of Love, #4

    By Taya Rune

    ()

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    About this ebook

    If only Chloe's real life was as perfect and uncomplicated as her online one.

     

    Chloe has secrets. So many secrets that the burden is becoming unbearable.

    To the world, she is a social influencer, but for her it's just a lie. Chloe is keeping secrets from everyone; her father, the online world she shares herself with, and worst of all, her boyfriend, Pierce.

    If she shows the man who loves her who she really is, will he stay or will he run? Chloe knows what must be done, but the thought is terrifying. The truth has to come out, but sometimes the truth can hurt.

     

    Reflections of Love - Real women. Real life. Real love.

    *All novellas can be read in any order.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTaya Rune
    Release dateOct 15, 2021
    ISBN9781922604064
    Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4: Reflections of Love, #4
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      Book preview

      Chloe - Reflections of Love Book 4 - Taya Rune

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      Chapter 1

      Chloe checked the reflection on the mobile screen and not happy with what she saw, turned to fuss over the placement of the purple throw pillow on her bed for the third time; it just wouldn’t sit right in the shot. She placed the book she was currently promoting in front of it and gingerly crawled backward off the bed, hoping to not dislodge the now perfected arrangement. With a huge sigh of relief, nothing moved. She took several shots with her camera at different angles before putting the camera down and picking up her phone and moving onto the bed. This time she was not as cautious as she scooped up the book and settled onto the pillow.

      The sun on her back was warm and comforting and Chloe knew that if she sat there long enough it would make her sleepy. Holding her phone at an angle, Chloe studied her reflection on the screen as she held up the book, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness, and smiled in her typical closed mouth way; the world did not need to see her crooked front teeth. She took a few moments to drape some of her long, streaked purple and pink hair over her shoulder and made sure she still had enough lip gloss on. Her fake tan looked good in the sunlight and her freckles were barely visible. Satisfied with her appearance, Chloe checked that the background of the photo showed nothing but a clean, artistically-styled bedroom. She took several selfies at varying angles — her holding the book with the cover showing, her reading the book, and a time-lapse video of her flipping through the pages.

      Tossing the book aside, Chloe leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed her laptop from the pile of clothes it rested on. It didn’t take her long to upload all the photos from the camera and phone; then she quickly chose one and posted it to her Instagram with the hashtag #TVshoworbook? She would work on creating reels and story content for both Instagram and TikTok later, once she had studied what was trending that day.

      Chloe was twenty-five and a mid-range Social Influencer, and while she hated the label, she used it to her advantage when promoting her Instagram and TikTok posts. Her career dream was to be a screenwriter, but she was well aware that having an extensive social media following for anything was advantageous to the money men Hollywood type producers of the world, so for the time being she played the game by being a reviewer of all things in. She studied screenwriting online part-time, and made money through her content creation courses she had started running once a month and endorsements she got from a few companies. After watching her newest post gain likes and responding to a few comments, she put the phone down and was assaulted by her true reality.

      The corner of her bedroom that was the background for her content was pristine. It was flooded with warm early morning sunshine from the nearby window. The walls held a few funky canvases in gray and purple tones and the bed cover was a plain mauve, with a soft gray mohair rug strewn artfully across the bed, and many different sized pillows in geometric patterns filled the corner. The remainder of her room was a mess. Plastic tubs filled with early childhood memories overflowed with paper, clothes, and old teddy bears. Make-up, books, and the many different products that had been sent to her to review filled all the available space. Clothes that never managed to get put away were piled on a chair near her door, and the wardrobe doors couldn’t be closed as it was overstuffed with clothing that was rarely touched.

      As always, Chloe felt defeated and disgusted when she looked at the mess, and as usual, she pushed those feelings down before taking a bracing breath and leaving her bedroom. Doing her best to ignore the piles of newspapers, tools, fishing paraphernalia, boxes of clothes, old photos, and piles of odds and ends that filled the wide hallway down one side and all of the rooms she walked past, Chloe made her way to the kitchen.

      Surprisingly, the kitchen had always remained relatively hoarder junk-free. It was still cluttered by anyone else’s standards, but by her father’s standards, it was almost a minimalist look. The kitchen cabinets were filled with boxes of appliances that had never been used, but at least the doors closed. The surfaces were covered with cookie jars that held more utensils than a Michelin star restaurant, and there were no less than five chopping boards leaning against the wall behind the toaster. There were two kettles, just in case one broke, and a large stack of folded drying towels that much like the clothes in her room, were never put away.

      Chloe opened the fridge door and stared blankly at the contents until the fridge began to beep at her. Without taking anything, she closed the door and took a seat at the old wooden table. Feeling despondent, she leaned forward and placed her forehead against the cold, smooth surface, attempting to ignore the sick feeling she felt in her stomach. The only sound throughout the too silent house was the constant pinging of her phone.

      She missed her father’s heavy footsteps.

      It had been a

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