 by Lindsey Hart.jpg)
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
All my life, I've been Miss Disaster.
Walk on a flat surface, there I go twisting my ankle.
Walk on a street, here comes a piano swinging at me.
Park full of people, here I am, the chosen one for the bird poo.
Not to forget, expert in attracting the wrong kind of people in my life.
But all of that changed... when he kidnapped me.
Oddly enough, whenever I touch him, my luck turns around.
Not one disaster throughout my whole day.
So don't blame me for wanting to "rub" him just a tiny little bit.
Especially when I need the luck to get through one of the biggest milestone in my life.
Sure, he's allergic to commitment.
Asks me to avoid him like plague.
Says nothing good would come out from hanging around him.
But what's a girl to do when the bad guy is her lucky charm.
And it's not like I'll want more from him.
Resisting the temptation of this Lucifer is definitely something I can do... I think.
Plus a little rubbing for luck never hurt, right?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Cass
“Please, Ayana? I don’t have to rub him for luck or anything. Just being in his presence would be enough. And food! I think food has something to do with it. Every single time, there’s been eating involved.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Ayana huffs. “Rubbing. That just sounds wrong.”
“No rubbing involved. Cross my heart—well, I’m going to leave it that because, knowing my luck, I should just cut that off right there.”
Ayana’s my bestie, the proud daughter of a dad who is scary as all get out because he’s the prez of a biker club, and she takes shit from no one but me. As her sister from a different mister since high school, I guess I’m entitled to a few strange requests.
Ayana’s boyfriend, Ransom, who is big, tattooed, and scarred in the face from a childhood mishap with a spork, of all things—yes, for real—is almost as scary as her dad. Until you get to know him, that is. Both of them. Or, if you’re Ayana, you find out he’s all teddy bear beneath his gruff exterior, soft as butter, and willing to do anything for her and their baby girl, Maya. The most beautiful little girl in the world is currently with the object of our conversation, her deliciously gorgeous, sandy-haired, jacked, and stacked uncle, Lennox, who has a beard to beat both Vikings and Santa.
“My brother is bad news. Bearded bad news.”
Ransom wiggles his hips and bends lower, a driver in hand. He’s recently found golf to be quite therapeutic, and because Ayana loves him, she’s willing to do just about anything, even golfing. Because I need to get in touch with Lennox, I’m also here with a set of rented clubs, about to do my very worst to this par 3. Think major grass divots, errant golf balls, and perhaps even flying clubs. Yeah, and when I say worst, I mean worst. I’m a terrible golfer at best, and by terrible, I mean it’s a lucky thing I haven’t killed someone yet or broken my own leg.
“You love your brother,” I protest.
“I might,” Ransom agrees. “But this is also the same person who, before I met Ayana, told people that my biggest goal in life was to go as a puckered butthole for Halloween.”
“As opposed to a non-puckered butthole?” Ayana covers her mouth and laughs.
I try very hard not to, but it takes sucking my whole bottom lip into my mouth and biting it to keep myself focused. I need to stay focused—both on my quest and on what’s happening on the field. I mean on the green.
I’ve golfed all of once in my life, and that was during high school. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. As per usual, I was involved in a bit of a disaster. I swear, I didn’t mean to let that club go. But go it did, and it smacked our gym teacher right in the face. He ended up having to go to the hospital for stitches, and there was so much blood that one girl in the class passed out, and another barfed.
Where I’m concerned, that’s pretty much just par for the course. Ha. Oh god, that’s too good right now. Look at me go.
I’ve never, ever, EVER met anyone as unlucky as I am. I have the kind of luck that is like a badly held-in fart. The kind of fart where you just can’t hold it anymore, but you’re in a crowded room, so you hope to let it go silently and that it will have zero smell, and no one will notice. But of course, your butt cheeks won’t angle right, so it comes out as a ripper, and it’s a real room clearer, to the point where gagging is a sure thing.
That hasn’t actually happened to me, though. I’m just trying to make an illustrative point.
Ransom studies the ball carefully, adjusts his stance, swings, and sends the ball flying in a straight arc down the way from us and toward the flag deal at the end. I know enough about golf to realize that’s our objective.
Ayana brushes her thick black mane of hair over her shoulder and claps wildly. “Nice shot, my love.”
He turns and winks at her, making the scar that bisects his face become all puckered up, and I try very hard not to think about puckered buttholes. Ransom’s face looks nothing at all like that, though. He’s actually quite handsome, and he’s a truly good person besides. It’s just the thought of the word puckered that tips me off.
As if to prove my point about his goodness, he grins at Ayana, who is the love of his life. “You’re up.” He finishes that up with a kiss on her forehead.
Gah. If that doesn’t make me go all soft and mushy and get kind of grossed out all at once, I don’t know what does.