Pretty Perfect Read online Riley Hart, Christina Lee (Boys in Makeup #1)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Boys in Makeup Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
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Her voice wobbled as she replied with, “I love you, Jesse.”

“I know, Ma. I love you too.”

I ended the call and took a few deep breaths to get my emotions in check. Then I decided I was going to do makeovers on myself the rest of the day before choosing a look for that night at work. I was going to dance my ass off, flirt my ass off, and be fucking fabulous. And maybe, just maybe, I’d find someone to take home with me, because after the morning I’d had, I sure as shit deserved it.

2

Dane

“Think I’m all set.” I handed the delivery guy a tip, then closed the door to my basement apartment, which I rented from my sister and her husband. I walked across the living room, which also doubled as my bedroom, and stared at the new headboard and mattress. My back would thank me. I’d been sleeping on an air mattress for far too long, and before that on a shitty pullout couch, so I was pleased that I could finally afford something sturdier.

I sank down on the soft mattress, thinking I might get in a nap before my shift tonight. Fuck, this felt good. I was getting my life back together after nearly losing everything.

Thankfully my sister took pity on me after my dickhead boyfriend drained our accounts and took off with all our possessions—no doubt because of gambling debts—and I was left with only a closetful of clothes and the money in my wallet.

But I had fallen for him, and that was probably why I’d stuck it through.

Or I was just a dumbass.

Lesson learned.

No way I’d be swayed again by flowery words or a pretty face.

And definitely not by the sexy men I was surrounded by on a nightly basis at the Playground.

I’d never been college material, so I’d spent the better part of six years trying to figure out what to do with my life after high school graduation besides taking odd jobs that paid shit. I was good at a little of everything, and that never helped narrow stuff down career-wise. With my savings gone, I’d had to pick up extra shifts with the furniture delivery company I’d been working at for the last two years; that is, until the bartender job came along.

I’d been holed up at my sister’s place, licking my wounds, when I ran into an old friend on a grocery-store trip. After catching up, Chet told me about an opening at his bar, where he guaranteed the tips would help get me out of debt.

I worked my ass off as a barback and whatever the hell else task I was given until I realized I was pretty damn good at making drinks and manning the bar area. Chet eventually moved me up to bartender status once I proved my chops at the Playground, and I’d been feeling more settled, more me, ever since. I still couldn’t help being skeptical and cynical of everything, but Chet joked that my brooding worldview worked for me at the club, whatever that meant.

There was a knock on the door from the kitchen stairs, and my eyes sprang open. My sister, Bree, was holding my four-year-old niece, Hailey—or at least trying to hold her while she squirmed in her arms. She finally gave up and set her down on the floor.

“Looks good,” Bree said, checking out my purchase as Hailey tottered toward me. “Do you work tonight?”

“Yeah.” I never missed an opportunity to work weekends if I could help it. And Friday nights were always packed, starting from happy hour until closing time. Sometimes I preferred working in the basement speakeasy, called the Underground, where it was quieter and not nearly as frenetic, but I normally made better tips in the main bar.

Plus, there were no twinks named Jesse with perfect bubble asses and flawless makeup and lively personalities that needed attention. Christ, he’d probably never struggled a day in his life, given that carefree attitude. It grated on my last nerve. Call me bitter, call me whatever the hell you want, just don’t put me on shifts with Mary Sunshine.

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy,” Bree said with a laugh, probably because I couldn’t keep the scowl off my face, thinking about a certain dancer with pouty pink lips. I was being ridiculous.

“Think you can watch Hailey while I make a grocery-store trip?”

“Of course.” I never refused an opportunity to hang with my niece, not only because she was cute as hell, but because my sister needed all the help she could get. Her husband, Mark, was a truck driver and spent weeks on the road. That also meant Hailey sometimes didn’t see her daddy for long periods of time, so I chose to be involved as much as I could.

Besides, Bree had taken me in when I needed her most. Charging me rent also helped them out, but I couldn’t wait to have a place of my own someday.


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