 by Lauren Landish.jpg)
Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
But a Good Guy who’s only bad for me? Well…
I’m not exactly the ‘take home to Mom’ type. I’m too outspoken and have never met an expectation I didn’t want to challenge.
And to put it bluntly, my professional career of being an intimate relationships counselor doesn’t make for polite dinner conversation.
Not that I care. I’m too busy changing the world, one healthy ‘yes, yes, yes’ at a time.
But Chance Harrington? He’s built his career and reputation on being the ultimate gentleman. Politeness and chivalry are his bread and butter, kindness and goodness are the foundation of his image, and he mentors young men to be their best, one podcast at a time.
We make no sense.
But falling at Chance’s feet in the most embarrassing meet-cute ever seems to be working out. We knew the rules - just a little fun, stress-relieving excitement for us both. Nothing more. But one encounter leads to another… and another, and no-strings-attached becomes dinners, dates, and heartfelt conversations.
Let’s just say I never thought it’d end up like this.
I never dreamed the straight-laced gentleman image hid a man who could make even me blush. But he wants more.
He’s after my heart. And the scariest part? I may just give it to him.
Never Give Your Heart To A Hookup is a full-length romance with a Happily Ever After. It can be read as a standalone.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
SAMANTHA
“So, I only need to sell fifty dildos to become a Gold Star representative of Bedroom Heaven?” The young blonde girl several seats down from me asks the question with a completely straight face, making it sound like that should be a ridiculously easy thing to do.
Of course, she did say that she’s the entertainment chair for her on-campus sorority, so maybe Trixleigh can slam out that many sales in her living room under the guise of a buzzy good night social. I can see it now . . . Trixleigh’s Tricks and Treats. Maybe with a ‘XXX’ substituted in for good measure.
Because of course her name is Trixleigh, which she spelled for us cheerleader-style with a bonus of mentioning she’s definitely ‘not for kids’ like the cereal, ending with a tee-hee laugh I’m sure she does every time she introduces herself with the bunny ear fingers she popped to the top of her head.
But while she might not think her question is that out there, my head whips around so fast I look like the possessed chick from The Exorcist, only to see Jaxx Reynolds, the dark-haired girl in goth makeup sitting next to me, cover her mouth and giggle, along with several other girls around the room. Jaxx is the one who got me into this.
This being a pseudo-business presentation with a healthy dose of sexual innuendo being led by a suburban mom who’s currently standing in the middle of her living room wielding a butt plug big enough to make King Kong cringe.
Please tell me why I’m doing this again? I ask myself for the umpteenth time. But the truth is, I already know the answer. I need the damn money.
I’m buried under a mountain of student loan debt, and with the interest rates being sky high, I’ll be battling with that mountain well into the next couple of decades.
And with only one semester left in my graduate program, I’m looking down the barrel of the day those loan payments are going to come due, right as I’m trying to figure out my post-college plans. But I’m like most people, and at some point in my life, I’d like to be able to afford luxuries like a house or a decent car . . . or cheese on a sandwich.
So you know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Though I never dreamed it’d mean selling big, fat cocks from the trunk of my car.
A nudge in my side breaks me out of my reverie, and I blink to refocus on Jaxx, who has a devious smirk on her face. I wonder how many dildos she’s sold. Or maybe she sticks to leather restraints? Of course, with her style, she could sell those as fashion accessories.
I take a closer look at the cuff bracelet she’s currently wearing, noting the silver loops that could definitely be used for restraint purposes. It’s paired with black fishnet stockings, black shorts, and a black rock band shirt that’s been rough-cut at the belly button.
It could be a harsh, off-putting look, but on her, it’s enchanting, and the dry humor she stoically spews makes her all the more bewitching. Some might say she’s inspired by Wednesday Addams, but the truth is, I think Jenna Ortega might’ve done a secret character study on Jaxx.
It was Jaxx who got me to grudgingly agree to try out being a sex toy rep for extra cash to help pay the bills. She’s already been doing it for months and swears it’s easy money, and it does make some sense for me to have sexual aids in my repertoire for my future practice as a licensed therapist focusing on intimate relationships. Some people call it a ‘sex therapist’, but it’s so much more than that.
Then again, Jaxx’s Aunt Kara doesn’t exactly look like the professional businesswoman I aspire to be considering she’s now holding up a dildo that’s swirling in a circle while vibrating intensely enough to make the rabbit ears on one side of it flop around wildly.
“That’s right, Trixleigh. Fifty units and you’ll be Gold, and then the sky’s the limit. These babies virtually sell themselves.”
Trixleigh squeals and goes back to looking at the catalog in her hands, pausing for an unreasonably long time on a double-ended, rainbow-striped, unicorn-horn-ribbed dildo called The Happiest Ride.
Jaxx whispers, “Got her.” She licks a black-painted fingertip and draws a tally mark in the air.
Kara smiles, likely thinking the same thing. To help sell me on the idea of this side gig, Jaxx told me the story of how her aunt had been on the verge of a foreclosure after her hair salon burned down and her insurance refused to pay for the damage, citing a cold technicality that left them not fiscally responsible for helping her recover from the accident.