New Release ~ Vicious Texts ~ by ~ M.L. Philpitt

โ™ฆย โ™ฆย โ™ฆ

๐‘‡๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘›,ย ย ย  ๐‘‚๐‘›๐‘๐‘’, ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘ค๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘ฆ ๐‘๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘ก ๐‘“๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘ ๐‘ก ๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ฃ๐‘’, ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ก ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘› ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘› ๐‘Ž๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ, โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก ๐‘“๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ฆ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘  ๐‘Ž๐‘  ๐‘Ž ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘˜๐‘–๐‘๐‘˜ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘Ž ๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘™๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘›. ๐‘Š๐‘’โ€™๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘›๐‘œ ๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘”๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘œ๐‘› ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘‘๐‘’, ๐‘ ๐‘œ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘  โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘’ ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘‘. ๐ผ ๐‘˜๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ค ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ค๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘›๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘ , ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐ผโ€™๐‘™๐‘™ ๐‘‘๐‘œ ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘ฃ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘–๐‘ก ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘™ ๐ผ ๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘˜ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข.ย ย ย  ๐‘Œ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ โ„Ž ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ, ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ก ๐ผโ€™๐‘š ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ก ๐‘”๐‘œ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ฆ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’. ๐‘Œ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ก ๐‘Ž ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘ฃ๐‘’, ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ก ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘–๐‘ ๐‘›โ€™๐‘ก ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘  ๐‘œ๐‘“ ๐‘”๐‘–๐‘“๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ ๐‘ข๐‘โ„Ž ๐‘Ž๐‘› ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘ก. ๐ผโ€™๐‘™๐‘™ ๐‘ค๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก, ๐ถโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ-๐บ๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘™, ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘™๐‘–๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘–๐‘ก ๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ก. ๐ด๐‘“๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ ๐‘œ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ฆ ๐‘ฆ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘ , ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘Ÿ ๐ผ ๐‘“๐‘’๐‘™๐‘ก ๐‘Ž๐‘ก ๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘–๐‘“๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘ ๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘”๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘Ÿโ€”๐‘ ๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘š๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘–๐‘๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘ .ย ย ย  ๐‘ˆ๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘™ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘š๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘”๐‘’ ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ๐‘  ๐ผ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘›โ€™๐‘ก ๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘๐‘’๐‘๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘‘, ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐ผ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘–๐‘ง๐‘’ ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘œ๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘‘๐‘’ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ขโ€™๐‘ฃ๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘Ÿ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘ฆ ๐‘๐‘’๐‘’๐‘› ๐‘œ๐‘›. ๐‘‡โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘š๐‘’, ๐ผโ€™๐‘š ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ก ๐‘™๐‘’๐‘ก๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘”๐‘œ ๐‘Ž๐‘”๐‘Ž๐‘–๐‘›.ย ย  ๐‘‰๐‘–๐‘๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘ ๐‘™๐‘ฆ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ๐‘ ,ย ย  ๐ต๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘›๐‘กย ย ย  ๐‘‰๐‘–๐‘๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘  ๐‘‡๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘ก๐‘  ๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘ ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘œ๐‘˜ ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐ถ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘ฃ๐‘’ ๐‘Š๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘›๐‘”๐‘  ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘ , ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘โ„Ž ๐‘š๐‘ข๐‘ ๐‘ก ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘‘ ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘Ÿ. ๐‘‰๐‘–๐‘๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘  ๐‘‡๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘ก๐‘  ๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘Ž ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘˜ ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘‘-๐‘โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘ค๐‘–๐‘กโ„Ž ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘›๐‘ก ๐‘ ๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘  ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘”๐‘”๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘”. ๐‘‡๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘”๐‘”๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘›๐‘–๐‘›๐‘”๐‘  ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘๐‘™๐‘ข๐‘‘๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘’, ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘›-๐‘๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘›๐‘ ๐‘ข๐‘Ž๐‘™ ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘ข๐‘Ž๐‘™ ๐‘’๐‘›๐‘๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘ , ๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘๐‘™๐‘–๐‘๐‘–๐‘ก ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘ฅ๐‘ข๐‘Ž๐‘™ ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘›๐‘ก๐‘’๐‘›๐‘ก, ๐‘ ๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ, ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘“๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘›๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘š๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘Ÿ, ๐‘ ๐‘ค๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘”, ๐‘ก๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘ข๐‘š๐‘Ž, ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘๐‘ ๐‘ฆ๐‘โ„Ž๐‘œ๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘”๐‘–๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘™ ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘–๐‘๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘œ๐‘›.

โ™ฆ โ™ฆ โ™ฆ


Release Day-3

Release Day-2

โ™ฆ โ™ฆ โ™ฆ

#VTRD-10 When the end of the day finally comes, after hours of the same thirty people sneaking looks at me constantly, the only thing I want to do is curl up in bed and forget today happened. As I exit the school, a scuffle at the edge of the schoolโ€™s property catches my attention. Thereโ€™s two guys towering over another one. Shorter and wider than the two, he steps back, arms up in defense. I sigh, shoulders lowering. Bullies suck worse than first days. No matter what, I donโ€™t ever allow myself to be bulled. People can speak negatively about me behind my back all they want, but theyโ€™ll never say anything to my damn face and make it out unscathed. I glance to the right, seeking out a teacher on duty, but most of them seem occupied with organizing the bus lines for the younger kids. Everyoneโ€™s so worried about young kidsโ€™ safety, leaving the older ones to fend for themselves. Maybe itโ€™s dumb of me. Maybe I shouldnโ€™t make waves on the first day. Either way, it doesnโ€™t stop me from marching over there and pushing between the three bodies, even noting the two bullies are much larger than me and can easily squish me if they wanted to. โ€œHey!โ€ I call, shoving my hands on oneโ€™s chest. โ€œBack the hell off. What is wrong with you?โ€ Both guys stop what theyโ€™re doing, their gazes dropping to me. One sneers, but his attention remains locked on the kid they were pushing around. โ€œThorne, youโ€™re pathetic. Needing a girl to frigginโ€™ protect you.โ€ โ€œYouโ€™re pathetic,โ€ I counter, before the guyโ€”this Thorneโ€”can speak, โ€œfor picking on people. God, what is wrong with you? You realize there are bigger issues in the world than your pettiness, right?โ€ Past the bullyโ€™s body, I catch the eye of a teacher, whoโ€™s finally turned around, noticing us. โ€œLook, a teacher is watching. Thereโ€™s nothing you can do now anyway, without getting in trouble.โ€ The one I pushed away steps farther back, his fist clenching his friendโ€™s shirtsleeve. He rolls his eyes, scanning me, his gaze stopping on my ratty shoes. โ€œWhatever, you two are made for each other.โ€ Grumbling, they run off, and once thereโ€™s a few feet of distance between us, I do too, marching in the opposite direction. โ€œHey, wait! You canโ€™t just leave after that.โ€ I spin on my heel, arms crossed and hip cocked out, as the kid I saved jogs closer to me. His blond hair hangs over his eyes, as is the style with most guys my age right now, but his kind smile shines through. Still, I donโ€™t fall for it. Every foster family Iโ€™ve ever had smiles kindly in the beginning. Then it goes downhill. โ€œWhy, because you want to insult me for โ€˜taking care of you?โ€™ Sorry for having a heart.โ€ Guys are all the sameโ€”unable to handle being โ€œsavedโ€ by a girl. โ€œNo, I wanted to thank you.โ€ His hands at his sides curl, his sapphire eyes darting all around my form. Oh. โ€œNo worries.โ€ I turn to leave again, shrugging off his apology. Being a decent human doesnโ€™t mean I need a reward. And again, as if heโ€™s a glutton for punishment, he speaks, โ€œIt is a big deal. Not everyone does stuff like that.โ€ Heโ€™s not going to let this go apparently. I spin again until I face him and roll my eyes. โ€œThatโ€™s the issue. Too much bad in the world, and weโ€™re not saving each other often enough. Why were they bullying you anyway?โ€ โ€œLook at me.โ€ His hands gesture to his body. โ€œI mean, theyโ€™re on the track team. Fit. Popular. And, well, Iโ€™m not.โ€ Like he suggests, I scan him. I suppose heโ€™s on the thicker side. Some would call him fat, but Iโ€™m not some. Weight doesnโ€™t really matter. Fat or skinny, if someone is evil, theyโ€™re evil. Everyone worries about looks, but itโ€™s personality and having a heart mattering more. โ€œStill no reason for them to make fun of you.โ€ I shrug again, wondering when heโ€™ll be satisfied enough with this conversation to allow me to leave. Not yet, apparently, since his next words are, โ€œYouโ€™re the new girl, right?โ€ Of course he knows me. โ€œIโ€™m in the other grade seven class, and well, you were mentioned,โ€ he adds, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans. โ€œWhatโ€™s your name?โ€ He seems harmless enough and is, so far, the only kid to look at me like Iโ€™m worth a moment of their time. So, I say, โ€œTeagan. Yours?โ€ โ€œBrent. I like your hair,โ€ he comments, his bright eyes landing on my head. โ€œCherry red.โ€ My fingers find the edges of my most noticeable feature. โ€œYeah.โ€ Does he want me to say anything more to that? โ€œItโ€™s too bad weโ€™re not in the same class, but tomorrow for recessโ€ฆโ€ He trails off and shuffles his feet side to side as his teeth sink into the corner of his lip. โ€œWanna hang out?โ€ Is he trying to be friends with me? I tilt my head. It happens so infrequently in all the schools Iโ€™ve been to, I forget what friendship looks like. Heโ€™sโ€”Brentโ€”is offering me a hand. Kindness. Friendship. And though I may not be in this town for long, thereโ€™s no reason I shouldnโ€™t take the leap and risk it. Time will tell if he remains so, or if heโ€™ll tire of the new kid, like so many others have in the past, and ignore me. โ€œSure.โ€ Little did I know on that random Tuesday, Brent would become my everything. My friend. My hero. My enemy. My saviour. My future.

โ™ฆ โ™ฆ โ™ฆ


Read The First Chapter HERE!

โ™ฆ โ™ฆ โ™ฆ

#VTRD-13 M.L. PhilpittM.L. Philpitt is Canadian-born and raised, and enjoys representing Canada within her novels. As a Ravenclaw, she loves education, having undergraduate degrees in English Literature and Sociology, a certificate in Autism and Behavioural Sciences, and a MA in Counselling Psychology. She writes in various romance new adult genres including paranormal, fantasy, dark romance, and contemporary. She has lots of crazy trapped in her head for readers to enjoy. When M.L. Philpitt isnโ€™t making up stories, sheโ€™s devouring those imagined by other authors. Her love of reading began when she was a young child and only grew with age. She enjoys many genres, as reflected in her writing preferences.

black icon-websiteblack icons-facebookblack icons-twitterblack icons -instagramblack icon - goodreadsamazonblack icon -newslettergroupbookbub


โ™ฆย โ™ฆย โ™ฆ


website gold facebook gold twitter gold instagram gold gold label_newsletter Pinterest gold youtube gold


Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: