The Accidental Dating Experiment (How to Date #4) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: How to Date Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
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Juliet’s shock is understandable. I’ve had a few hours to process the magnitude of the gift. Sadie and I had grabbed a cup of coffee in the dingy café next to the bare-bones studio, where we reviewed the recent Heartbreakers and Matchmakers emails. Today’s included this one from an attorney letting us know that Eleanor had sent us—in her words—a little something.

“Apparently, it’s a thank-you gift,” I explain, trying to keep my cool about this unexpected generosity. “She’ll also pay the gift tax on it. I gave her attorney a quick call to confirm all the details. And I spoke to Sawyer since he’s done some business in Darling Springs recently and knows the property value there.”

Her brother isn’t an attorney, but he is my college friend and was scoping out real estate there for his growing business.

“What did he say?”

“What I suspected—it’s the hot small town.”

After he confirmed the red-hot potential, he remarked curiously, “You and Juliet scoring a house from a listener? That’s something I never thought would happen.”

“You and me both, buddy,” I said.

“Will you live in it? With her?”

I nearly choked.

“I live in San Francisco,” I said, stating the obvious. I didn’t want to tread anywhere near the thought of living with Juliet in any capacity. Sawyer doesn’t know about our week-long fling all those summers ago. Nothing came of it, so there was no need to mention it, then or now.

Juliet still looks gobsmacked, running her fingers through her thick chestnut waves while she sorts through the words on the screen. When she raises her face, she studies me skeptically with those bright green eyes. “So you’re really not here to mock me. To laugh, not with me, but at me?”

She’s so doubtful it’s kind of adorable. “That’s your concern? I show you this, and you still think I came to tease?”

She gives me a Why would I think otherwise look. “That’s kind of your thing.”

“On air,” I point out. I mean, it’s a persona, all that poking. Mostly. But I don’t want to talk about us. I want to focus on the holy shit gift that’s landed in our lap. “It’s not every day someone gives you a house. I wanted to tell you as soon as I had the details. So I was waiting outside⁠—”

“Waiting for my date to flop,” she says.

Now’s not the time to hurt her when she’s down. No need to tell her I was pacing as the clock struck nine, confident there would not be an ExtraDate, a combo date, or an extend-a-date.

“I came here only to discuss this house,” I say and that’s mostly true. Fine, the jerk in me likes the fact that her date went as I’d suspected. The jerk in me is also the reason I’m divorced, but I can’t resist adding, “It just so happened your date was a douche.”

She has the worst taste in men. She’s also too nice to people. I’m not sure which is the bigger issue in her dating life. All I know is I wanted to stab that guy with an olive toothpick.

Fortunately, Mister Cheese Douche is gone, and I won’t be arrested for attempted murder.

“And now we’ve got…a vacation home?” she asks, reading the screen to verify for a second or third time. As she does, I steal a glance at her date attire, taking in the details of Evening Juliet.

That red top sloping slightly off one shoulder, offering just a hint of her pale skin, so tempting to touch.

Her eye makeup, a little smoky and seductive.

And that tempting lipstick she applied for someone who doesn’t fucking deserve her. As her friend—okay, frenemy—and her co-worker, I definitely care who deserves her. So far, the answer is no one.

I reorient my thoughts to her question. “A vacation home but really an investment.”

Over the last few hours, I’ve plotted a path, and I lead her down it now. If we sell this bad boy, I can finally pay off the never-ending medical school loans that I put on hold during my divorce a few years ago. Loans that are extra painful reminders that I only practiced psychiatric medicine for a few years before I admitted I hated it and switched to clinical therapy. It’s an expensive way to learn your dad’s goals for you are not your own goals.

We could also use some of the proceeds to grow the podcast. Maybe market it in new ways. I started Heartbreakers and Matchmakers a couple of years ago with a married couple. They provided the real person viewpoint, I brought the clinical therapy POV, and when Juliet joined she shared her fresh approach to ending relationships with grace and class. But when our married co-hosts moved on, Juliet and I took over the show ourselves, along with the expenses. It makes a little money, but mostly it runs close to the bottom line. If we marketed it properly, I’m confident it could become a cash cow.



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