Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
It started with a list.
Tired of meeting nightmares, I decided to study the dos and don’ts of dating.
And who better to help me with my master list than the king of red flags himself?
Blake Grayson—neighbor, friend, mischief maker, and player extraordinaire.
He knows how to spot a playboy from a mile away. He is the prime example, after all.
So when he offers to help me avoid Mr. Wrong by sharing what to look for, I have no choice but to take him up on it.
We start a game.
He will become my wingman, and I’ll become his.
He coaches me through my singledom, while I go on his journey of play.
We double-date, eat ice cream at midnight, and laugh.
Boy, do we laugh…
But while I watch every woman he meets fall madly in love with him, I stumble across a major I know exactly why they fall.
Because I can feel it too.
His charm is intoxicating, and damn it, the man is addictive as drugs.
But it’s not happening. I won’t let it.
I’m not that gullible young girl anymore.
Blake will never settle down, and I know in my heart he’s not the man for me.
I have one go at this second chance of happiness, and I am not going to mess it up.
This time, I play by my rules.
Even if he won’t.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Blake
“I’m going to book the flights tonight,” I say as I push through the heavy glass door leading into the suit shop.
“No.” Henley sighs. “Do you even listen to me at all?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Antony smirks as he listens.
In a world full of chaos, there’s only one thing that I know for certain.
Family matters, and I’ll do everything in my power to take care of them, even if they don’t want me to.
I walk up the aisle of suits and begin to flick through them, annoyed. “You’re having a bachelor weekend whether you like it or not,” I tell him.
Henley is getting married, and it’s up to us to make sure we go all out to celebrate the occasion, because if Antony and I don’t make this happen . . . who will?
“I don’t need a bachelor weekend,” Henley replies. “I just want a quiet poker night at home.”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “This is why we are never getting married, Ant; damn woman has his balls in her purse. He’s that unbalanced; it’s a wonder he can fucking walk.”
Antony keeps looking through the suits. “What look are we going for here?”
“I don’t know, something weddingish,” Henley mutters, distracted.
“Well, what look do you want?” I snap, annoyed. “White jacket, black jacket, fucking green pants. Fairy. What?”
“What is up your ass today?” Henley fires back.
“You and your ridiculous notion of no bachelor weekend. It’s a rite of passage to go to Vegas to be wild, watch strippers, smoke cigars, and drink all the alcohol.”
Henley curls his lip in disgust. “Strippers could not be further from my mind.”
I exhale heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you hearing this bullshit, Antony?”
“Unfortunately,” Ant replies as he keeps looking.
Henley answers his phone. “Hey.” He smiles as he listens. “Yeah, okay.” He glances up. “You two want to go to Marconi’s with the girls tonight?”
“Yeah.” Ant nods as he continues to flick through the suits.
“Nothing better to do, I guess,” I say with a shrug. I’m not interested in dinner; all I really want to do is lock in Vegas.
“Uh-huh,” Henley replies. “Just looking now.” He listens again. “I don’t know, send me a picture.” He twists his lips as he looks around the shop. “I can’t see any.”
“Is that Juliet?” I ask.
He nods, and I snatch the phone from his hand. “Jules.”
“Blake,” she replies. I can hear that she’s smiling.
“You need to talk to your pussy-whipped boyfriend; he thinks he isn’t having a bachelor weekend in Vegas.”
“Good,” she replies. “I’m good with that plan.”
“What is wrong with you people?” I roll my eyes. “I guess you’re having a knitting party for your bachelorette party, are you? Could you two be any more fucking boring?”
“Probably not. Listen, Henley is a big boy. If he wants to go to Vegas, he can go to Vegas; it has nothing to do with me.”
“Ahh.” My mouth falls open, and I put the phone on speaker. “Can you repeat that, Jules?” I point to the phone as I hold it out for the boys to hear.
“Henley is a big boy, and if he wants to go to Vegas, he can go to Vegas,” Juliet repeats.
“Thank you.” I smile. “This is why we are marrying you, sweet Juliet.”
“I’m not marrying you, Blake,” she replies dryly.
“So you think.” Antony smirks as he goes back to flicking through the suits.
Henley holds his hand out for the phone.
“Goodbye.” I end the call and pass him back his phone.
“I wanted to speak to her,” Henley replies.
“Tough, she’s gone and we have things to do.” I walk over to the rack of suits. “I think you need a white jacket and a black bow tie, and we’ll wear black dinner suits.”
“Why black dinner suits?” Ant asks.
“Because I look good in a black dinner suit.”
Henley rolls his eyes, unimpressed.
The salesman comes out of the back. “Can I help you?” he asks us.
“Yes, please,” Antony replies. “Henley here is getting married, and we want him to look as pretty as a picture for his big special day.”
Henley gives Ant the side-eye, and I smirk. “And we’re going to need a white jacket.”
The cool, crisp flavor cleanses my palate; there’s nothing better than a cold beer after a hard, long day.
The restaurant is loud with chatter, and a tantric beat sounds through the oversize speakers. Marconi’s is the hippest bar in town—luckily, because we come here way too often.
My eyes linger on the opposite end of the table, and as Rebecca licks the salt from her margarita glass, I feel it all the way to the tip of my cock.
Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, her rounded, full breasts peek out of the V-neck in her dress, and as she smiles I’m quite sure that somewhere in the distance I hear a choir of angels break into song.