Book Boyfriend Series Collector's Edition Boxed Set Read online

  Table of Contents

  BOOK BOYFRIEND SERIES

  About the Author

  Books by Erin Noelle

  METAMORPHOSIS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Epilogue

  Mason Bonus Scene

  Ash Bonus Scene

  AMBROSIA

  Dedication

  One: SWEET REUNIONS

  Two: RIGHT NOW

  Three: OLD FRIENDS, NEW BEGINNINGS

  Four: US

  Five: WHOLE AGAIN

  Six: MEMORIES

  Seven: SECRETS

  Eight: FATE

  Nine: DREAMS

  Ten: ROOM MATES AND SOUL MATES

  Eleven: UNWANTED

  Twelve: FALLING APART

  Thirteen: BAD DECISIONS

  Fouteen: LEAVING TOWN

  Fifteen: REVELATIONS

  Sixteen: RECONNECTING

  Seventeen: FRIENDS

  Eighteen: FINDING ALL THREE

  Nineteen: LIES & TRUTH

  Twenty: FATE WILL FIND A WAY

  Twenty-One: LOVE

  Twenty-Two: MOVING IN DIFFERNENT DIRECTIONS

  Twenty-Three: SAVED BY AN ANGEL

  Epilogue

  Music Credits

  EUPHORIA

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  TIMELESS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  ALIVE

  Note to Reader

  Twenty-One cont.

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  BOOK BOYFRIEND SERIES

  © 2015 Erin Noelle

  METAMORPHOSIS including Bonus Scenes © 2013

  AMBROSIA © 2013 Erin Noelle

  EUPHORIA © 2013 Erin Noelle

  TIMELESS © 2014 Erin Noelle

  ALIVE © 2015 Erin Noelle

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author/ publisher, except by a reviewer that may quote brief passages for review purposes only. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each participant.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, is entirely coincidental.

  All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

  Cover Design

  by Hang Le

  Interior Design and Formatting

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  ERIN NOELLE IS A TEXAS native, where she lives with her husband and two young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current, Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.

  Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.

  CONTACT ERIN

  Website | Facebook | Twitter

  Amazon | Goodreads

  Subscribe to Erin’s newsletter: Subscribe Here

  BOOK BOYFRIEND SERIES

  Metamorphosis (Book Boyfriend Series 1)

  Ambrosia (Book Boyfriend Series 2)

  Euphoria (Book Boyfriend Series 3)

  Timeless (Book Boyfriend Series 4)

  LUMINOUS SERIES

  Translucent (Luminous Book 1)

  Transparent ~ Coming Soon

  DUSK TIL DAWN SERIES

  When the Sun Goes Down (Dusk Til Dawn Book 1)

  As the Dawn Breaks (Dusk Til Dawn Book 2)

  A FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN SERIES

  Spark (A Fire on the Mountain Series 1)

  Flame (A Fire on the Mountain Series 2)

  STANDALONES

  Surviving Us

  MILF: Wrong Kind of Love

  CO-WRITTEN

  Conspire

  “The Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, groveling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness.” (From Bulfinch’s Mythology: The Age of Fable, chapter XI)

  “I can’t believe we are finally here. I am completely and utterly exhausted, but could not be happier,” Evie, my longtime best friend and now college roommate, said as she threw herself across her freshly made bed.

  “I know. It’s surreal, isn’t it? I’m almost afraid to go to sleep tonight in fear that I’ll wake up tomorrow morning back at my parents’ house,” I replied, sitting down cross-legged in the chair across the room.

  “God, that would be a nightmare.”

  “Tell me about it. You aren’t the one that’s had to live with them the last eighteen years,” I muttered.

  “True, but I have had to live across the street for the last ten, and listen to you bitch and moan every day about the prison wardens they are,” she retorted.

  Evie was right; without her, I may have gone crazy at some point while dealing with my over-bearing, controlling parents. That or run away and joined the circus. Seriously, that would’ve been an upgrade to the life I had while living with my parents. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a b
it, it’s not like they ever beat me or neglected me, or really even yelled at me. I never wanted for any material item or for their attention. It was quite the opposite actually. My parents were so far up my ass they literally didn’t allow me to have a life of my own.

  But the day had come when they finally had to let me go. I’d been looking forward to that day for at least three years, ever since I realized that kids my age were actually doing fun things while I was studying or at music lessons or doing something else they deemed necessary for me to become a successful human being. I was finally free of their outrageous and outlandish rules. I knew that I’d never escape their unrealistic and idealistic expectations of me, but now as long as I made good grades and didn’t get in legal or financial trouble, I would never have to live under their roof again.

  “Hello! Earth to Scarlett! Are you still with me here?” Evie yelled across the modest-sized room, shaking me out of my daydream.

  “Scarlett, seriously, what the hell is your problem? You are sitting over there looking like you’re being forced to watch someone shit in your Louboutins,” she spat.

  “I don’t own Louboutins, Evie.”

  “Humor me . . .” she said as a serious look crossed her face. “ You are supposed to be happy . . . joyful . . . hell, you should be jumping up and down ecstatic that you are actually going to be able to have a life.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about how controlling my parents really are and wondering how I’ve managed to survive until now,” I confessed.

  “Controlling?! That’s like saying that Lindsey Lohan has a minor drug problem or that Charles Manson might have been a psychopath. Elizabeth and David are nuts and I’m still not sure how you’ve managed not to go postal on them until yesterday. And I’m still surprised they ever let you be friends with me.”

  “It’s only because they could see your house from our front window,” I said somewhat embarrassed because we both knew it was the truth. “And I think they are still in shock over my standing up to them,” I continued as I thought back to the day prior when I had told them I was an adult and was making a clean break.

  “It was time, Scarlett. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Evie shook her head as we both remembered the dramatic events of the previous evening, when my parents had attempted to implement a 10:00PM curfew on weeknights for me while I was hundreds of miles away at college. “They are delusional . . . even my parents finally said something about how out of touch with reality they are.”

  I sighed loudly and slumped over in the chair a bit, feeling sorry for myself. Evie was so lucky to have “normal” parents that allowed her to go to public school, to participate in whatever extra-curricular activities SHE wanted, and to actually date . . . gasp! Instead, in the parental lottery I had been awarded a duo that insisted I had no social life, no choice in my hobbies, and most definitely no social interaction with the male population. They had even gone to the expense of sending me to the most affluent, academically challenging, all-girl Catholic school in the San Antonio area. Lucky me, right?

  “Scarlett, you are doing it again! I’ve never seen you so spacey,” Evie cut into my thoughts once again. “Come on! Snap out of it! Aren’t you just geeking about tomorrow?”

  “Geeking? What is that? Geeking? I swear you must look these words up online or something?”

  “No, sourpuss, I don’t. I just have an immensely elaborate vocabulary,” she smirked.

  “‘Immensely elaborate vocabulary’ and you come up with geeking and sourpuss? Wow, Rice University has no idea what they said yes to when they accepted your application,” I snorted.

  “Just shut up and let’s talk about tomorrow. Have you decided what you are going to do with your hair?”

  “I’m not really sure . . .”

  “Wait,” she interrupted, jumping off of her bed. “Before we continue this conversation, let’s open our celebratory bottle of wine.”

  She was headed for the kitchenette before she even finished the sentence, grabbing two of our new glasses from the cabinet that I had just put away less than an hour before. Once she had opened the bottle of white wine she had stolen from her parents’ house and poured us each a glass, she rejoined me in her bedroom.

  “Okay, now we are ready. So tomorrow?” she asked, eluding to the day we had planned for my external makeover. Weeks prior she had scheduled for me to spend a day at a local spa for a massage, a manicure/pedicure, waxing, and a new hairstyle. After that we were to go shopping so I could start reinventing my wardrobe. Luckily, I had saved upwards of five thousand dollars throughout high school babysitting, tutoring, and teaching after school music lessons, so I would be able to purchase a good base.

  “Look Evie, I am extremely excited about tomorrow. I really am, I promise.” I paused to take a drink of wine. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected. “But I’m also very nervous and anxious about all of it. Finally being able to live my own life, to make my own decisions about what I like and don’t like, getting to choose my own clothes, styling my own hair, doing whatever I want, whenever I want . . . all of it sounds amazing . . . it sounds so freeing . . . but I just feel incredibly overwhelmed by all of it. I know most people don’t get to just start over when they are eighteen, a chance to recreate their image, who they want to be . . . And I’m so thankful and relieved that I’m finally here, away from them, but truth be told I’m just scared. I don’t want to mess this up.” I confessed.

  “Oh sweetie,” she said as she patted the bed next to where she was laying, indicating for me to join her. I lifted my eyebrows in disapproval at her “sweetie” remark, but she went on as if she didn’t notice. “You are going to do just fine. You just need to give yourself more credit. You are so smart, and so sweet, and you are beautiful inside and out. Plus you will always have me here to tell you when you are fucking up, so there’s no way you can fail.”

  “It’s just a lot to deal with all of a sudden. I have thought about this day for so long, I thought I was so prepared but the truth is I really don’t know who I am, I don’t know who I want to be. And then when I even think about dating, I just want to throw up,” I admitted as I drained the contents of my glass.

  “Let’s move this conversation to the kitchen so we can get a refill,” Evie interjected.

  I followed behind her continuing my whining, “First, I get around boys and it’s like I lose the ability to speak intelligently. My mouth dries up like the Sahara desert, my brain freezes, and my stomach twists and turns like it’s warming up for the uneven bars at the Olympics.”

  “You act like you’ve never been around a boy before, Sam. Come on, you’ve kissed a couple of guys. Shit, you’ve even kissed a girl! And you’ve read enough sex scenes in our books that you know what’s supposed to happen. Hell, you probably know more about how it’s supposed to go than most girls our age who just blindly and drunkenly stumble through the act.”

  She was right—I had read more than my share of hot and steamy exchanges between fictional characters. Evie and I were obsessive readers and over ninety percent of the books we read were romance novels. Heart-breaking and gut-wrenching, sweet and sentimental, sexy and sensual . . . we loved them all. Reading was the one thing that Evie and I could experience together for the past couple of years since I wasn’t allowed to do anything outside of my house without adult supervision. It was almost like we lived a second life with our book characters, talking about them as if they actually existed and integrating their sayings into our everyday conversation. It was quite ridiculous to be honest.

  “Yes, I’ve kissed a couple of guys before, Evie, like two, and both times were at church camp and were one time occurrences. And you kissing me so I wouldn’t be nervous about my first kiss hardly counts for anything,” I argued. “To think I’m experienced in any way sexually is truly laughable, most twelve and thirteen year olds have done more than I have. Reading about something and actually doing it is quite different, especially when you are talking about sex. Oh, and I thou
ght we were going to lose the nickname when we moved here.”

  “I’m never dropping the nickname so get that thought out of your pretty little head,” she said as she tapped her finger on my forehead. “And I take great offense that kissing me ‘hardly counts for anything.’ Do you know how many people would love to have my tongue in their mouth?” She moved her hand to her chest and crinkled up her face, acting as if she was going to cry. I rolled my eyes in response.

  We both hopped up on the kitchen counter and I continued to ramble on about my fears and worries when it came to entering the world of dating.

  “I don’t even know what kind of guy is my type. I don’t know who is out of my league and who isn’t. I don’t know if I should let a guy approach me or if I should approach him . . . there are just all these questions . . . I feel so silly.”

  “Okay, let’s get one thing straight—NO guy is out of your league!” she said sternly looking directly into my eyes. “I never want to hear you say something like that again. You seriously have no idea what an amazing catch you are for any guy. I swear, your parents really did a number on your self-esteem. Guys look at you all the time, you just never notice because you are too afraid they will catch you making eye contact with one and then you’ll, I don’t know, end up pregnant or something.” She continued, “As for what your type is, surely you have some idea what you are looking for. I mean we have only read hundreds of books that pretty much cover every category of guy that exists. Think about all of our favorite book boyfriends . . .”

  “That’s just the thing, I love so many of our book boyfriends, ALL of them actually,” I giggled as the wine was definitely starting to have some effect on me. “Sometimes I think I’d like the All-American, college frat boy image, maybe even one with a bit of a wild side. But then I think about our beloved tattooed bad boy rockers and . . .” I could feel my face get warm as I began thinking about actually getting to touch any one of my beloved book boyfriends.

  “You really do have a kinky freak living inside there, don’t you?” Evie joked, tearing me from my fantasy. “I’m kind of afraid of what’s going to happen once you get a real taste of the passion that you read about so often. If those books get your panties all wet, what’s going to happen when an actual hottie gets his hands on you?”