The Wrong Holidate
Being wrong never felt so right…
Ben
F-boy. Player. Frat Bro. In college, I thrived on the stereotype, relishing every wild moment. But after graduation, I put those days behind me to focus solely on building my business. That is, until Lainey Langford walks into my bar.
Meeting Lainey reminds me of my long-buried desire to be a one-woman man, but convincing Lainey I’m playing for keeps won’t be easy. Can she see beyond my reckless past and the awkward fact that her mom is dating my dad?
Lainey
My new job for an online magazine is just what I need to break out of a years-long career slump. My first Holidating in the City assignment is going perfectly too. That is until my mom’s date has a heart attack on New Year’s Eve, and I’m tasked to track down his son.
Enter Ben Kelley. Gorgeous. Charming. Trouble.
One false-alarm heart attack and countless texts later, Ben is hijacking my holidates with his flirty looks and scorching touches. Until now, I’ve seen my mom played by men all my life, and got played myself, so I don’t date F-boys—even reformed ones.
I’m determined to ensure my mom’s relationship, and my heart, remain intact. Yet, Ben is breaking down my walls one holiday at a time and I’m starting to think maybe he’s not the wrong holidate. Maybe he’s the only one who’s right.
This story is a standalone, but takes place in the same CTU world as Off List. You meet Ben in Off List as the flirty, keg-standing frat boy.
Excerpt
Vaguely, I hear the countdown. Three…two…one.
Blaring applause and a chorus of Happy New Year’s come over the speaker as Auld Lang Syne starts to play.
“Happy New Year, Ben.”
I hate that this moment is almost over, and I’ll have to step away from the solidness of his body.
“Happy New Year, Lainey.”
He stops dancing and leans in. Anticipation tightens my belly. He lingers a breath away from my lips, as if asking permission. In answer, I run my hand up his neck and sink my fingers into his hair, adding just enough pressure to encourage him to close the distance between us.
And he does.
Fireworks explode. In the air. Inside my body. His lips move over mine in a soft caress—sipping, tasting. It’s a slow, tender torture and probably the sexiest kiss I’ve ever experienced. He presses his hand into the small of my back, pulling me fully against him.
He doesn’t hold back anymore. His kiss is no longer sweet, it’s ruthless.