One Sexy Mistake
The Chase Brothers #5 (Novella)
by Sarah Ballance
Lovestruck
From
The Book Junkie Reads . . . One Sexy Mistake (The Chase Brothers, #5) . . .
Olivia
Patton and her one night with sexy Grady Donovan was not quite all she
anticipated. This quickie was a better read then her quick attempt to make a
break after a one nighter that proves there is more than first impression. Olivia and Donovan have a reason to not like
each other. Having to face each other and actually talk to each other brings
about issues. This was lite fun read.
The Chase Brothers
series:
Book
#1 Five Things I Love About You
Book #2 For Seven Nights Only
Book #3 The Three Week Arrangement
Book #4 The 48 Hour Hook Up
Book #2 For Seven Nights Only
Book #3 The Three Week Arrangement
Book #4 The 48 Hour Hook Up
Book
#5 One Sexy Mistake
Blurb
Olivia
Patton’s life just imploded. One night with sexy hacker Grady Donovan seems
like the perfect, ego-soothing plan—until an epic snowstorm shuts down the city
and thwarts her morning-after escape. Now the only walk-of-shame she'll be
taking is right back to Grady's door.
Forced
to actually talk, Grady and Olivia realize they can't stand each
other. Forget another round in the bedroom—if it wasn't his apartment,
she'd shove Grady outside to freeze.
But with all
the blistering sexual tension flying around, a second night with the hacker
might be exactly what she needs...if they don't kill each other first.
Each
book in the Chase Brothers series is a standalone, full-length story that can
be enjoyed out of order.
Chapter One
Grady
Donovan sucked at this hookup thing.
It was 11:00 p.m., he was bored and horny,
and most of his previous...assignations with women—whether a friend with
benefits or an actual attempt at a relationship—had ended in way too much drama
for his taste. After years of careful analysis, he’d come to the conclusion
that he wasn’t built for relationships. But a one-nighter? That he could do. With bells on. If she was into that.
The trick was finding a woman who was on the
same page emotionally. Tinder had a reputation as a “hookup app.” So Tinder it
was.
Tinder PC, because he was not having a
one-night stand with someone without viewing a photo bigger than a postage
stamp.
After hours of agonizing over how to best
describe himself on his bio, adding and deleting gems like please leave before breakfast and conversation not included, he’d finally nailed it: Frighteningly intelligent single male.
Computer geek. No interest in romance but great in the sack. No relationships,
please.
Accurate? Definitely. Odds of snagging
interest? Nil, in his experience. But, he figured, don’t ask and ye shall not
receive. Needless to say, he hadn’t expected a response.
Especially not the one that came through ten
minutes later, prompting the mother of all double takes. Olivia’s profile
picture was too good to be true.
So was the rest of her. Especially her bio. Hacker girl with a broken heart looking for
a boy toy to make it all better. One night, no strings. I get to leave first.
Two-minute wonders need not apply.
The irony was strong. As long as she followed
through and actually left without asking for his hand in marriage, she was
everything he could possibly want in a woman. Scratch that. She was all he
could want from a night.
One night.
A beautiful woman who wanted to leave first.
He watched the screen, expecting her to
disappear. He was no hardship to look at, but he’d said no romance or relationship,
which left him floored that anyone would respond.
Let alone an anyone who was on the same, admittedly unconventional, page. Unless
it was a trick.
Suspicion probably shouldn’t have been his
first reaction to seeing the incredibly sexy photo pop up on the screen, but
with a prank-happy extended family like his—all courtesy of his four
brothers-in-law—being trolled was a distinct possibility.
Even via a random hookup app.
A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he realized
he was doing this wrong. People were supposed to be all over these connections.
Swipe right, get laid, problem solved.
Still
there? she
typed. Because if that two-minute thing
is a deal-breaker, I need to know. At which point I may mock you. Mercilessly.
Grady stared at the newly arrived message,
thinking the threat of mockery was the best excuse he’d ever have to bail.
But this was also probably his best chance to
score.
Looking at Olivia’s picture, he really didn’t
want to give up on the chance. He couldn’t believe his luck. Rich, wavy brown
hair tumbled past her shoulders. Eyes sparkled in the same hue. She glowed.
She was definitely too good to be true.
I can
guarantee at least three minutes, he wrote, then sat back. There was no good
reason a woman like her would need an app, unless it was because she was tired
of being hit on for being gorgeous.
Which, frankly, he’d believe.
For the first time in pretty much ever, he
wished for more personal communication.
A new message popped up. So what do you have against relationships?
He hesitated over a response. I don’t care for the drama, he typed. Or the rituals. Or the expectations.
Ah, she replied. A girl gets three minutes one night and
wants four the next.
Something
like that.
Actually, it was a lot like that. At one time, he hadn’t hated the idea of a
relationship. In fact, all he’d ever wanted was for someone to accept him for
who he was, which sounded like a schmaltzy spiel of bullshit, but it was true.
He enjoyed going out every now and then, and he’d hold a woman’s purse at the
mall if he had to. But having to out-do every other couple on Facebook or
Instagram or whatever social media platform was the rage at the moment burned
him out.
Permanently.
If being in his own goddamned relationship
meant he had to compete with everyone else’s, then he’d be just fine alone.
Except for one teeny caveat.
Sex.
What
about you?
he asked. Not buying that you can’t get a
date.
I don’t
want a date. I want sex.
Well, okay then. You could get that from anyone, he responded. Why me?
You’re
a mile away. It’s snowing.
You
keep impossible standards, he typed back.
And
you’re hot, and straightforward. And you did promise great sex.
Anyone
can promise that,
he noted.
Actually, she replied, I’m pretty sure no self-professed computer
geek has ever promised great sex.
He rolled his eyes. And here I was thinking the self-professed hacker would appreciate my
skills.
I plan
to,
she said. For the entire three minutes.
Well, hell. This was the part where he should
promise her a few hours, but if she looked anything like her picture, he’d be
better off promising her a few rounds. And he could only pray the first one
lasted three minutes.
He pulled up her profile again, still
suspicious. There wasn’t much there, so the repeated glances were futile.
You don’t seem worried about hooking up with
someone you’ve never met, he typed.
Are you crazy or just adventurous?
Her answer was immediate. Do you want to find out?
Did he? That was why he was online, though he
certainly never expected he’d find anyone like her. She was too perfect—not
just physically attractive but also in a field of work closely tied to his own,
if there was any truth to the “hacker girl” statement in her bio. While he
didn’t need to have anything in
common with Olivia, if they actually had a conversation—versus creepily not
speaking at all—there was something to be said for shared interests.
He’d had plenty of dates with women who
lectured him about how boring computers were, that he should get out and live a
little. These were, of course, the same women who couldn’t peel their eyes from
their smartphones, but that point was seldom appreciated when he voiced it.
But it probably didn’t matter. People didn’t
use hookup sites in search of sparkling conversation.
Especially not him. He caught himself looking
over his shoulder, half-expecting to catch one of his brothers-in-law doubled
over in laughter on the fire escape.
Instead, he got an eyeful of the neighbor’s
yellow-eyed, helter-skelter-faced, crooked-fanged mini-wildebeest the old woman
called a cat. And yes, he jumped.
Then he swore.
That thing should be in a zoo. Or a freak
show.
Behind the questionably feline façade, snow
fell. Grady had no idea why that woman let the cat out in this kind of weather,
but he wasn’t inclined to let the thing freeze. Even if it was the ugliest,
creepiest excuse for a cat he’d ever seen.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Harmon had a habit of
smacking him with her purse when her precious Mortimer found his way into
Grady’s apartment, which made him wary of rescuing the cat, at least immediately.
He glanced back at his computer. The cursor
blinked, and he realized there might very well be an actual woman on the other
end, waiting.
If there was any chance she was legit, he was
in.
Way in.
He typed his next message and hit send before
he could second guess the insanity of meeting a stranger for sex. Your place or mine?
***
Author Info
Sarah
and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the
mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly
adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a
homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants
anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. As it turns out, her
characters aren’t much better than the kids, but nevertheless, you’ll find her
writing sexy contemporary romance for Entangled Publishing until they throw her
out.
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