Trolled – Internet Famous Collection Read Online M.K. Moore

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Trolled - Internet Famous Collection

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

M.K. Moore

Book Information:

Getting trolled is usually a bad thing, but when she does it, I want more. Moreover, I want her, whoever she is, to belong to me. Suddenly, she’s at my house and it’s game over.
She makes me feel like permanent God Mode has been activated. She’s younger, wiser, gorgeous and she’s all mine. I’ll never give her up.

Trolling him just kind of happened. I didn’t mean to do it, I swear. He looked so good as I watched him play my favorite games, it was easy to fall in love with the idea of him. Now that I actually know him? It’s a million times easier. He’s older, wiser, tattooed, bearded, and he’s all mine. I’ll never give him up.
Books by Author:

M.K. Moore

Chapter One

Jensen Reynolds

“Welcome, welcome, ladies and gents. Tonight, I’ve gotten my hands on the most highly anticipated game of the year, Immortality Gaming Studio’s Widowmaker. Are you ready?” I ask the four hundred thousand or so of my million followers who are watching me stream live. KingJensen, my online alter ego, is extremely popular among the sixteen to thirty-six crowd. I get all kinds of responses from all kinds of people, but as I have been doing this since I was a teenager, I am a bit jaded. Some are complimentary, others hostile. Even gotten a death threat or two. Four marriage proposals, and many, many offers for no strings attached sex. No thanks. I'm not into that shit. I know some internet stars let it all go to their heads, but I have a lot of responsibilities that I'd never put in jeopardy. All disturbing comments or emails are firmly ignored. I provide some witty commentary as the game starts, but my heart is not in it anymore. Don't get me wrong, I love playing the actual games, it's everything else that goes along with this business I can't stand anymore. While I think I've made that abundantly clear over the last few years, my ratings and endorsements would suggest otherwise. I could tank it all, but my pride won’t let that happen.

At thirty-three, I have been doing this for way too long. I want out, but my contracts and my sponsors will never let that happen. I feel like a fucking prisoner. What started out as fun, and full of perks has become a burden. I feel like I am stuck in a rut, both personally and professionally. I mean, can I really do this forever? What thirty plus year-old man makes a living like this? I often ask myself what I’d rather be doing and the answer is simple. I want to be a husband and a father. I want to coach Little League again. I want to travel. I want the love of a good woman. It should be easy, but nothing in this life is.

Fifteen years ago, my whole life changed and I won’t say that it hasn’t been hard, but it’s been better than I thought it would be. I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. I was eighteen and had been out at a graduation party. I had just graduated from high school the week before. When I finally drug my ass home at four in the morning, there were cops everywhere. My first thought was that somebody got robbed as we lived in a terrible neighborhood in Tampa, Florida at the time. I’ve since moved the boys north to Wesley Chapel, but at the time that’s what I thought. I had ridden with my best friend, Jackson, who was also my neighbor. When we couldn't get any further down the street because of all the police activity, he parked the car and we got out and ran the rest of the way home. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that they were at my house and my world started to spin out of control when I realized that they were in fact at my house. I knew something terrible had happened.

“Officer, what’s going on?” I shouted, running toward the open front door, skidding to a stop in front of him. He was smoking a cigarette. The pungent, putrid smell will forever be associated with my memories of the worst night of my life. I also remember the door handle not being attached properly. It was hanging on by one screw and it was bent.