Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I’m all in for a trip to Jamaica with my best friend, Sofie—sunshine, fruity cocktails, hot men. Yes, please! But when Sofie takes off with a sexy waiter, I’m stuck all alone. At what turns out to be a family resort. Where are the single men?
I’m ready to head home early when I spot an Adonis coming from the beach. Ohmygod. Are those abs real? Did he just sit next to me?
Turns out, Carter’s smart, adventurous, and makes indie films. We spend two amazing days together as he scouts locations around the island. And though we don’t hook up, our chemistry’s on fire! Quivers. Goosebumps. Fire!
Before he leaves, we trade numbers since he’s always passing through Dallas, where I live, and I can’t wait to see him again.
Until…
I get home.
And show a coworker my vacation pics.
And she recognizes Carter.
Gasp! Carter failed to mention his side gig, and let’s just say Mamma wouldn’t approve. I really want to give this guy a shot, but can I get past this?
Answer: I just might have to join him to find out.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
TWO STICKY NUTS
CHAPTER ONE
“No, no, no…” Standing at the open front door of my apartment, I drop my bag of groceries and gasp. “This can’t be happening.”
A slurry of poop and mushy clumps of toilet paper are crawling toward me through the living room. Why is there potty lava in my apartment?
The stench hits my nose, sending me back outside. I just moved to this complex two weeks ago, after my last apartment burned down. Old wiring. All my clothes and furniture went with it.
This new place isn’t what I’d call home—only a short-term furnished rental—but it’s close to the office where I work in Dallas, Texas. We manage commercial properties and corporate relocation rentals, which is how I know this apartment was a great find. Surprisingly, my dick of a boss, Dick, hooked me up, but only because he didn’t want me to miss work. I basically do his job while he’s off playing golf. Lots and lots of golf.
I start digging through my obscenely oversized canvas purse to find my phone and call the property manager, Buddy.
I hit send, and the phone starts ringing. Five times. Six times. Voicemail. “Fuck!”
What am I going to do? I just spent my emergency funds on new work clothes and essentials like bedding, makeup, and a hairdryer. Hopefully, I can get all my stuff out before it’s ruined, but where the hell am I going to live? I don’t have enough money for another deposit, plus first and last month’s rent.
“Mila!” I hear Buddy’s voice call out from behind me.
I turn to find him in dripping wet overalls, holding a huge red wrench. He’s an older man with a scraggly beard who lives on the premises but looks like he should be off in a cabin in the woods, practicing taxidermy or plotting to blow something up. He just has that crazy-ass look about him.
“What the hell, Buddy? My place is full of sewage.”
Panting, Buddy stops next to me and glances inside. “Oh. Oh no. This is worse than I thought.” He scratches his stringy gray hair with his free hand.
“What happened?”
He winces apologetically. “I was tryin’ to fix a leaking pipe in the upstairs unit,” he says with a twang, “but my wrench slipped and cracked the pipe beside it. Musta been the sewer line.”
“No. You don’t say.”
He stares at the disaster creeping toward us. “The water leak probably softened the floor. See how the shit’s comin’ down them walls? It’s really going now.”
Meaning, all ten apartments directly above are taking a dump in my living room.
“Where the hell am I going to live?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Mila. I’ll have this all cleaned up and fixed for ya in no time. Just gimma a couple days.”
Wrong. “This place is a toxic stink bomb. It’ll take months to clean and air out.”
“Did I ever tell ya that you remind me of my ex?”
“Were her eyes filled with utter contempt for you, too?” I ask drably.
“Now that you mention it, yeah.” He bobs his head. “But she was also a purty little redhead.” He pauses. “Then all her hair fell out. She was always workin’ and worryin’. Just like you.”
I don’t know if I’d call myself a “purty little redhead,” though I’m not super tall (five six), and I do have long red hair and green eyes. And yes, I’m always working. But constantly worrying? Me? “I think you might be picking up on the fact that my fucking apartment is a biohazard, Buddy.”
He scratches his head again. “I guess you might be right.”
Guess? No, I’m pretty damned sure. “Got any rain boots?” I ask.
“Why?”
“I need to go inside and clear out my stuff.” Then I need to bear the utter humiliation of being a grown woman of thirty-two years old who needs to call Mom and Dad for a loan. Fuck my life.
CHAPTER TWO
“Dick, I’m sorry, but I’m taking my vacation time. I have to find a new home, and I don’t want to be in a short-term rental again.”
Dick’s gray eyes narrow from behind his desk, which is covered in obnoxious golf paraphernalia, like a giant golf ball paperweight and golf bag pen holder. To the side of the room is a bookshelf cluttered with gleaming, golden trophies from his fundraiser tournaments. I’d like to shove them all up his flabby old ass, though he’s not really old. Maybe fifty-something? He has a lot of sun damage from all that outdoor time, and for a man who does so much walking on the green, he has quite the beer belly.
“You know this month is busy for me, Mila,” he says, pushing back in his chair the way he does when he’s about to throw his weight around.
“Every month is busy for you, Dick, which is why I haven’t had a vacation since I started working here. That was three years ago, Dick.” I get such pleasure from saying his name. I wonder why.