by Hart, Cary
“I’ve been following your tweets.”
Stalk much?
Jeffery didn’t follow my tweets because he cared. He followed to see if I was going to say anything about him. I mean, I did call the guy out for being a sucky lover.
Selfish bastard.
“So? How’s everything going? The baby?” I stand there making small talk with a guy I can barely stand.
“Funny story.” Jeffery snorts. “Turns out, Angel is farther along than what we thought.” He nods.
“Jeffery, I’m sorry, but hearing you were actually cheating on me longer than I originally thought isn’t the kind of small talk I want to have this morning.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “But good luck with all that.”
I get a couple steps away before he jogs in front of me and lets out a string of confessions. “Angel and I broke up. The baby isn’t mine. She lied.”
“Jeffery—”
“I should have never broken up with you.”
“You know what? You shouldn’t have, but I’m so thankful you did. Because of you, because of your idiotic ways, I went off the deep end, but when I did, I found someone who was willing to jump in for me. He saved me, just like he always has.”
I leave him with his jaw hanging open.
And this time when I walk away, I don’t look back.
CLOVER
“We’re back for a special edition of Hotline Hookup. I’m your host, Austin Montgomery, or better known as Dr. Feelgood, for all you virgins out there in radio-land,” Austin croons in his smooth and sexy radio personality voice.
It’s funny. I never realized how hot his voice is or maybe I never admitted to myself.
“Our first guest is none other than Unlucky in Love herself, Miss Clover Kelley.” He turns his head to me and gives me a smile that makes my panties want to drop. “Clover, say hi to all our Hotliners out there.”
“Hey, guys.” I wave out of habit, not even thinking they can only hear me.
Austin raises a brow in amusement.
I shrug and stick my tongue out like I used to when we were kids. Seeing the look in his eyes turn from humor to desire reminds me how much things have changed since those days.
I’ve done four of these interviews already, and they never get any easier. I either bump the mic, wave when no one can see me, or run over on time. Needless to say, radio is not my thing.
“For all of you listeners who are just tuning in, Clover is a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes who was looking to trade her halo for a pair of horns after a nasty breakup. Clover,” Austin’s gorgeous eyes turn back to me, “how’s that going for you?”
“It’s been pretty interesting to say the least.”
“Dating is no joke,” Austin agrees. “I’m sure all our listeners will agree too.” Turning his attention to the board, he fiddles with some knobs.
“So, Clover, tell us how the final date went.” He winks at me, knowing exactly how it went, or didn’t go.
I smile in response.
“Well, as you all know, I went on my final date with stand-in Owen Decker, Hotline Hookup’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Did you catch that? She said bachelor.”
“I did.” I roll my eyes at Austin trying to be all alpha.
Tree claimed, Spot, lower that leg.
“Are you saying he’s still single?” He keeps going, and my eyes widen, knowing Owen can hear, even though I’m pretty sure his mind is elsewhere right now. Mal’s coming back next week, and Owen isn’t very pleased about it.
“I am.” My head shakes in response as I answer his question.
Austin is getting a kick out of this. Even though nothing happened between me and Owen and Austin got the girl, there is a part of him still irritated he even tried.
“And how about you? Are you still single after…help me out here, Clover, how many dates have you been on?”
I laugh at his annoyed expression. “Well, Austin, counting the speed dating round, I’ve technically gone on fifty-three dates.”
“Talk about playing the field. Right, fellas?” I look away, fighting back laughter.
“I tried.”
“Well, the listeners are dying to know, as well as myself, did you get lucky?” Austin’s lips curl up in a devilish smile.
We both did.
“I did—indeed.” I chuckle.
“Tell us, which one of these lucky guys captured your heart?”
I lean into the mic. “None of them.”
“None of them? Hmm…and you call that lucky?” Austin plays along with our cryptic little game.
“I do.”
“Please, do explain.”
“Well, while I was searching for love, it found me in the most unexpected way.”
“Interesting. Is it with one of our listeners?” Austin prods.
“Hmm, yeah, you can say that.” Now it’s my turn to wink at him.
“Does he have a name?” He licks his lips.
“He does, but this one, I’m going to keep private.” I bite my lip. This little game is taking a naughty turn.
“Well, damn, I thought we were going to pull this out of you.” Austin pats me on the leg and mouths that I did good. “Before you go, how about one last tweet?”
His hand moves higher on my leg, and my thighs clench.
“Sure.” I shrug. “But first, I want to thank all the listeners who followed me on this journey. Your tweets and replies kept me going through the bad dates and entertained me through the good.”
Austin nods in encouragement.
“And to all the gentleman who applied—thank you for making this lonely girl feel special after a crazy breakup.”
I look at Austin to signal I’m finished. He gives my leg one last squeeze before releasing it to turn a dial, and music starts fading in.
“There you have it. Hotline Hookup is in the dating business. If you think this is something we should try again, head over to our website www.hotlinehookup.com and check out our latest poll.”
“This is all for us right now. Stay tuned for our regularly scheduled program this afternoon. We are talking about first kisses and what not to do. Until then, I’m Dr. Feelgood, signing off.”
He turns my chair toward him and scoots me closer.
“That went well.” He smiles before capturing my lips with his own.
Before the kiss goes from PG-13 to R, someone taps on the glass and an intern walks in, reminding us both we’re not alone.
Grabbing my phone, I do the final tweet while Austin shuts his stuff down.
Clover Kelly @UnLuckyInLove_13
Unlucky in love? Not anymore. #taken #unluckyinlove #hotlinehookup #illnevertell #shhh #cloTin
“I hope you don’t care that I kept this little thing between us a secret.” I smile as he takes my hand in his and I follow him to the door.
“Little?” He pulls me against him as we pass through the doorway. “Maybe you need a reminder.” His breath tickles my ear. “Eggplant emoji? Porn peen? Ringing any bells?” he teases, using my words against me.
“You know what I mean.” I kiss him and continue walking, pulling him with me. “The world can have Dr. Feelgood, but Austin Montgomery is all mine.”
“I like the sound of that.” He smiles and struggles to keep up.
“Me too.”
I went from UnLucky in love, to lucky and in love with my best friend. All it took was fifty-three bad dates, a douchebag ex, and a non-Google dick pic to make me realize what I was looking for was right beside me all along.
EPILOGUE
AUSTIN
Eighteen Months Later...
Pacing around, I’m anxiously waiting for Clover to get home from showing a house. She’s still so dedicated to helping everyone find their happy-ever-after home. She sure found ours. I let her pick.
It’s been almost a year since we took the plunge and moved out of my apartment and into our forever home. I could care less about the house. My home is where she is.
Speaking of my hopefully soon-to-be fiancée…
“What’s taking so long?” I sigh aloud. She should be here by now.
“Baaaawk! She’s not coming! Baaaawk!”
“Seriously, Kramer?” I stare at Clover’s bird, who by default is now my bird.
He’s wearing a little bird tuxedo that I found online, and for the last hour has been alternating between moral support and singing the tune of the wedding march. Hopefully, he won’t blow my cover.
I’ve spent the morning getting the house ready, following the binder checklist very carefully.
Romantic music—check.
Candles—check.
Fresh flowers—check.
Champagne—check.
Brownies, only edges—check.
I mean, she did make the list when she was twelve, but I love brownies, so those stayed.
“Runaway bride! Run. Run. Runaway bride. Bride,” Kramer adds as I look out the window for a sign she’s home.
“Thanks, buddy.” I reach down and pat his little Mohawk. “You ready?” I exhale. Of course, the bird is ready, and honestly, I am too. I just hope she feels the same way.
“Spots!” I call out to Kramer.
When I did a test run earlier, he took his place behind me, and to my surprise, he did it again.
“Good boy,” I praise.
“Polly! Polly want a cracker. Polly!” Kramer squawks.
“Shh.” I turn around to calm him down.
During one of our many dress rehearsals, I may have bribed Kramer with crackers and berries to con him into participating. Wrong move.
The door flies open. “Austin! I sold four houses today.” She fusses with her bags, trying to get them in.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Let me help.” I jog toward her, hoping Kramer stays put. “So, this is why you’re running late.”
“Late?” She spins around and looks up at me. “Oh my God.” Her eyes go wide. “Is tonight the awards show?” She begins to panic and digs through one of the bags, pulling out a sexy soft pink number.
My favorite. It matches the softness of her lips I’m dying to taste. Later. Focus.
“Clo—” I try to grab her attention.
“Give me forty minutes to get ready.” She glances down at her phone. “Or maybe an hour.”
“Clo—”
“Huh?” She glances up for a second, but continues to fiddle with her outfit, tearing off the tags.
“Clover?” My fingers tug underneath her chin. Her eyes finally meet mine. “Hi.”
“Hello?” She looks at me with a puzzled expression.
“Welcome home.” I drop my hand, stepping backward.
Her gaze follows, and slowly, she begins to take in the setting.
“The award show isn’t tonight.” She takes a step forward.
“Nope.” I shake my head and smile.
“Austin, what’s going on?” She takes in her surroundings.
“Just a little trip down memory lane.” I reach behind me and grab her old binder.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I told you, I’m not that person anymore.”
“I want you to open it.” I stand in front of her, holding the binder that contained her hopes and dreams—everything she worked so hard to become.
“Clover, sometimes life gets so crazy, we forget all the little things we did when we were young.” I clear my throat. “This planner is what made you who you are.” She takes it from me and smiles as she flips through it.
“Some of us were more excessive than others.” She chuckles, flipping page after page.
I let her have a few moments to take it all in while I work up the nerve to ask her to be mine…forever.
“Du-dun-ta-da. Du-du-dun-ta-da,” Kramer chimes in at the wrong time, hitting all the wrong notes.
Clover looks around. “Where’s Kramer?”
At the sound of his name, he peeks his head out.
Traitor.
“Du-dun-ta-da. Du-du-dun-ta-da.”
“Whatcha singin’ there?” Clover coos. Her eyes go wide before she looks back up to me confused. “Is he wearing a tux?”
“Yeah.” I push the book toward her. “Now, continue.”
Rocking back on my heels, I hold my breath, waiting for her to see the revisions.
“Okay. Okay.” She giggles, then flashes me one of those stop bossing me, I’m the boss smiles.
And she is. She owns me, heart and soul.
“What’s this?” She comes up on one of the little adjustments I’ve made to her binder.
Her tear-filled eyes flit between me and the book and back again.
“You did this?” She sniffles and holds the binder to her chest before looking back down at a scrapbook of all our memories, including the new photos I added, and a very special ending.
As realization dawns on her gorgeous face, I drop to one knee.
I reach for Kramer who has the ring around his neck. As usual, he has a mind of his own and tries to take off.
I nearly do the splits as I struggle to hold on to his foot and grab the ring before he can completely derail my plan.
“Okay, this didn’t go as planned, and you know what, I’m okay with that.” I rise to my feet.
“Austin.” She sets the book down and covers her mouth in shock.
“You thought this binder was flawed, but I happen to think it’s perfect. Those hopes and dreams are what brought us together and made us realize what we had.”
For once in her life, Clover remains silent. Shocked even.
“Will you marry me?” The words tumble out before I have a chance to overthink it.
“Yes.” She sets the book aside and jumps into my waiting arms.
“Yes?”
“Yes!” She laughs and cries at the same time as our lips crash together.
Turns out, we both got lucky…in love.
Thank you for reading UnLucky in Love! I hop you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you’re wondering a bit more about Clover’s friends, and their stories, be sure to add Mal’s story—Ring Ready and CJ’s story—Seriously Single to your Goodreads TBR.
If you loved UnLucky in Love, you will love Honeymoon Hideaway — A sizzling story about a sassy woman trying to make her way in Sin City, and the sexy businessman that stands in her way. A one-stop wedding chapel and a line-up of secondary characters so zany and unique, you'll want to book a room at the Honeymoon Hideaway and never leave! Keep reading for a SNEAK PEEK.
Feeling in the mood for a little second chance romance? Then the Battlefield of Love Series is right up your alley. Keep reading for an excerpt! Grab your copy of Love War here.
Can’t Wait for Cary Hart’s Next Book?
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CHAPTER ONE - VEGAS
With a name like Vegas Manilow, it was inevitable I would find my way back to the City of Sin, where I was born to Lola—she was a showgirl. With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there. Too much? Yeah, I thought so too. When really she was a struggling pole dancer named Betty-Sue Huck. Cliché, right? Tell me about it. Actually, try growing up with it.
How many kids do you know who were raised to believe their dad was the one and only Barry Manilow? I mean, come on, if Barry Manilow were to have impregnated any woman, there would’ve been gasps heard all around the world, but for shits and giggles, let’s just say he did. It would have been all over TMZ. Well, Nineteen-Ninety-Four’s version…
Stuck away in a rundown apartment on the west side of the brightest city in the world? Nope! There is no way Barry
Manilow would have his “wife and kid” livin’ above the Boobie Bungalow. At least, that’s what Steffy Sinclair, Mom’s arch-nemesis, told me one day backstage while Mom was working the pole. Correction—the head pole on the main stage. The most coveted position at the Boobie Bungalow and my mom had it.
I tried to ask her about him a couple of times, but she kept giving me the same run around about how Barry showed up at the Boobie Bungalow when his limo broke down out front. One thing led to another, next thing you know, he wrote a song for her, gave her his last name—which really means, she stole it—and made her the president of the Las Vegas Fanilow club. Yada, yada, yada—you get the big picture, right? Most kids don’t have their dad photoshopped into family portraits—or, in our case—glue-sticked magazine cutouts.
See where I’m going with this? My life was anything but normal. It was easier to go along with her story than see the look of disappointment on my mom’s face because I, her only daughter, didn’t believe her.
Surviving life with Lola, acting became my everyday norm. It’s why I got into the business in the first place—acting, not stripping. It’s also why I’m back here, standing in front of the One Stop Wedding Shop in Las Vegas, broke, with nowhere else to go.
“Holy cock-n-balls! Vegas? Is that you?” a thick, raspy voice hollers from behind me. A voice that could only belong to one person. A woman who has known me my whole life. My mom’s best friend and sidekick from the Boobie Bungalow. The reason I’m here. Dottie French.
“Aunt Dottie?” I turn and jog across the street, wrapping her in my arms.
“Watch it, kid,” she rattles. “You’re gonna make me drop the Cubans. They had a sale at the dollar store.” Dottie breaks free and holds up the two white bags, smiling. Her pearly whites that look a hell of a lot less yellow and more perfect than the last time I saw her are tinted with a little hot pink from her too heavy lipstick.
“You have a little pink on your…” I point to my mouth, “teeth.”
“Damn. The lady at the drugstore told me this shit wouldn’t rub off.” She begins to run her tongue over her teeth when her dentures flap loose. “Hell, she also told me this denture glue would withstand a five-minute blow job and it can’t even last through half a twelve-ounce soda-pop.”