Because I Love You Amy Brent ~ Page 1

Read Online Books/Novels:Because I Love YouAuthor/Writer of Book/Novel:Amy BrentLanguage:EnglishISBN/ ASIN:B07C86PKJBBooks by Author:Amy Brent Books

Chapter 1


"I fed him this morning when he got up and already had to change him, so he should be good there. I"ve got his clothes in the dryer, but I haven"t taken them out and folded them yet."

"I can do that, Miss Park. It"s not a problem."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jessi"" I asked.

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you don"t have to give me the morning rundown"" my nanny asked.

"It makes me feel better, okay" Indulge me for a second. Okay, so I bought an overripe banana to smash up for his lunch, but I want to try an avocado with him as well. I"m trying to introduce as many mushy foods as I can so hopefully he"ll have a broader palette than I do."

"Not much of a vegetable eater"" she asked.

"Have you seen these curves" There are two things that make them. The gym and calories. Now, he woke up with a bit of crust around his nose, so keep an eye on that. I"ve got his pediatrician"s numbers taped to the fridge. They do walk-ins up until eleven, but if anything happens to him after that there"s an urgent care up the road. I emailed you a""

"Digital copy of his prescription card. You know I"ve been working with you for three months now, right""

"And I"ll never stop worrying," I said with a grin. "If you need anything, call me. And let me know how he does with the avocado."

I kissed my bouncing baby boy goodbye before I grabbed my things. Today was a very important day and I was both nervous and excited. My career as a plus sized model had taken off, and with the help of my personal trainer at the gym I had a tight little waist that could flatter any dress. One of the biggest fashion designers on the East Coast was flying in to do a show in Los Angeles, and I was picked to be one of the very few plus-size models on the runway in his clothes. I was ecstatic. This show could mean the difference between me being a catalogue model for the rest of my life and me creating my own empire. Like Tyra Banks or Ashley Graham.

My first big runway show, and I was about to be late.

I raced through the streets of L.A. to get to the venue on time. The fashion designer wanted to assign outfits, choose hairstyles, and explore different makeup settings for the way he wanted to set up the show. Personally, he seemed like an uptight asshole to me, but he was giving me a chance so I was going to jump if he asked. Plus, we were all going to be meeting the choreographer for the first time. Which meant we"d also get to walk the runway today.

L.A. was nice, but my dream was New York. The best of the best found their way out there, and I thought it would be a great place to raise my son. I could get away from this Los Angeles heat that did nothing for my thighs and bask in the beautiful snow that I"d never actually seen in person. I could go there, start fresh, and raise my son to be the man I knew he could be.

Away from everyone who hounded me about his damn father.

This fashion show was the tell-all. Not only for this particular designer, but for myself as well. I"d be in front of hundreds of cameras with my picture posted everywhere. Instagram. Facebook. Twitter. Magazine spreads. If I could name it, my face would probably show up in it. If I played my cards right, I could plant my feet on that momentum and ride it all the way into Times Square. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw it. My picture on billboards and my agent turning down jobs because I was already booked solid. My cute three-bedroom apartment overlooking the beauty of the New York skyline. My son running up the steps into the best private school the city had to offer.

Walks in the parks and ice skating during Christmas. I saw hot chocolate by the fireplace as my son and I watched the snow fall over the city. I saw horse-drawn carriage rides as I taught him how to treat a woman on a first date, and I saw us getting him ready for his New York prom.

I even saw my son cheering me on as I walked the New York runways of Fashion Week.

All I had to do was get out of California first.

I pulled into the agency where we were all supposed to meet. A few of the other models had shown up, but so far I was the only one with any curves bigger than a size four. Was I the only plus-sized model chosen for this runway shoot" If I was, that would certainly play in my favor. We all sat in a room with bottles of water and snacks that taunted us, and I debated on whether or not to eat something. After all, I was a plus-sized model. It was obvious that I ate.


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