Ever heard the saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"? At some point in every woman's life, she will meet a man, fall in love and eventually get played. Take a wild ride with me and these eight scorned women on a journey from heartache to revenge. As you read these stories, you may find yourself in familiar territory. But let me forewarn you: before you even THINK of trying any of these stunts at home . . . DON'T. I repeat, DO NOT try any of this at home. This can get you messed up, locked up, six feet under or all three.
Excerpt
To Whom It May Concern:
Have you ever heard the old saying, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”? I know I have and I will be the first to tell you that a woman scorned is a bitch to be reckoned with. So men if you are out there doing wrong . . . sleep with one eye open because it’s only a matter of time before she figures your ass out and gives you just what you deserve.
At some point in EVERY woman’s life, she will meet a man, fall in love and eventually get PLAYED. I know what you’re thinking: Oh No! Not me. And I’m telling you: Oh yes, even you. It all starts the same. You meet him and he wants to buy you the world. If he could capture the stars in a jar and give them to you, he would. He wants to spend every waking moment with you. And right when you get past that euphoric love, the flowers, candy, texting all day and sitting on the phone until you fall asleep at night . . . that’s when the shit hits the fan. You find yourself texting and calling him when he doesn’t call or text you back. Not only will he not give you the world or try to capture the stars anymore, he won’t even sit outside with you to look at them.
Once again, I know what you’re thinking: who is she, and what makes her such a damn expert on this shit? Well . . . let’s just say: I’ve been around the block a time or two. Let me properly introduce myself. My name is BITCH, all caps, no last name. At least that’s what most of my ex’s call me. But you can call me Miss B. Allow me to take you on a wild ride with me. Let’s just call it a journey from heartache to revenge. As I tell you these stories, you may find yourself in familiar territory. But remember. . . This book is an act of fiction, made up, fake, make believe, not real. So whatever you do . . . Don’t try this shit at home.
Before you turn this page you’ve been warned. But just in case you didn’t get it the first time . . . don’t even think about trying this shit for real. This shit can get you fucked up, locked up, six feet under or all three.
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