Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
* * *
V-Card Status: Disturbed by the number of grown men who seem to think sticking a finger in a nostril is acceptable behavior at any time aside from when they are alone in the bathroom and intend to wash their hands promptly after.
* * *
James: Skunk Breath.
V-Card Status: Barfing.
* * *
Brad Two: Announced he had always dreamed of “settling down with a girl like me” ten seconds into coffee. Verdict—even more off-putting than the first Brad.
* * *
Note to Self: Don’t date Brads.
* * *
V-Card Status: Losing hope, probably also shrouded in cobwebs, infested with spiders, and suffering from a mild case of depression.
* * *
Matthew from the gym who said sweat is his religion and who is probably on multiple steroids: Called off due to freak snowstorm.
* * *
V-Card Status: Relieved for an excuse to stay home.
I am relieved, Diary.
Hunting obnoxious but sort of sexy men is exhausting.
But sadly, I’m also running out of time.
My ancient V-Card can wait—she’s clearly in no hurry to vacate the premises—but I need to find a boyfriend. Stat. Gram might not be with us much longer. This could be her last Raine family reunion and all she’s ever wanted was to see me settled down with a “good” man.
Though I suspect a “good enough” man would also do at this point.
Argh!
If only I hadn’t confessed all my romantic daydreams when I slept over at her house as a starry-eyed teen. If I hadn’t fantasized to Gram about finding a best friend who slept over every night, one who would make me laugh and think and feel all the glorious things girls felt in ’90s rom-coms and be my partner in love and mischief for life, maybe she would believe me when I say I don’t have any urge to settle down.
But Gram knows better. She’s the only one who does. I can’t send her off on her next big adventure without knowing I’m on track to that happily ever after she’s always wanted for me.
Which means I need a stand-in.
A temporary forever.
A fake date, if you will, a la those made-for-TV romances my mom loves so much. I need a guy who’s cool enough to make my gram happy, but not so cool my parents or sister will be upset when they eventually learn Mr. X and I aren’t going to make it for the long haul.
But I don’t know anyone like that, Diary.
I don’t!
Don’t you dare say his name.
He Who Shall Not Be Named isn’t fit to lick the bottom of my shoe, let alone charm the slippers off my gram. I hate He Who Shall Not Be Named. I hate him so much I’ve completely forgotten about how hot that kiss was last September, and I hardly tingle at all when he drops by the apartment to boss Evie around in his capacity as the most irritating big brother in history.
And even if I didn’t hate He Who Shall Not Be Named, I’m not going to date, not even fake date, my best friend’s older brother. Evie is one of the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without her, and I’m not about to put our relationship at risk over stupid old Derrick.
Okay, fine! I said his name.
You win this battle, Diary, but I’m going to win the war.
The next time Derrick shows his face at the apartment, I’ll lock myself in my room and stay there until he’s gone. I’ll pee in an empty water bottle and survive on the stale granola bar chunks at the bottom of my purse if I have to.
I’m done with that man. Done. He’s dead to me. Dead, I tell you!
At least while I’m awake. I can’t help it if I have the occasional steamy dream featuring Derrick’s lips kissing his way up my thighs…
Ugh. Yep. I’m definitely staying in my room next time he shows up.
Definitely.
Chapter One
Harlow
A woman on a (potentially) cursed
hunt for suitable peen.
* * *
I tuck my diary into my bedside table and bounce off my twin bed—the smaller bed gives me space for a desk in my room, and it’s not like I ever have overnight guests who need a “side” to sleep on.
And I’m not likely to have one anytime soon, if I don’t stop cancelling first dates left and right…
But it is snowing. Profusely.
A glance outside my window reveals a blur of white so fast-moving that for once I can’t see what my neighbors across the alley are binge-watching.
If there was ever a night it was acceptable to cancel, this is it.
Shooting Matthew from the gym a quick text to let him know I won’t be able to meet him for a low-carb beer, after all, I wrap up in my fleece throw, and wander out into the living room, excited about my Friday night plans for the first time in weeks.