by Jo Watson
Copyright © 2018 Jo Watson
Excerpt from Burning Moon copyright © 2016 Jo Watson
Cover illustration by Caroline Young and Shutterstock.com
The right of Jo Watson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in this Ebook edition in 2018
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 5777 2
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.headlineeternal.com
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
By Jo Watson
Praise for Jo Watson
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Epilogue
An excerpt from Burning Moon
Find your Destination Love
Find out more about Headline Eternal
About the Author
Jo Watson is an award-winning writer whose romantic comedies were originally published on Wattpad. Her first novel Burning Moon won a 2014 Watty Award for being one of the site’s most downloaded titles and has now had over 6 million reads. Jo is an Adidas addict and a Depeche Mode devotee. She lives in South Africa with her family.
Follow her on Twitter @JoWatsonWrites and find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jowatsonwrites.
By Jo Watson
Standalone
Love To Hate You
Destination Love Series
Burning Moon
Almost A Bride
Finding You
Praise for Jo Watson’s hilarious romances:
‘Found myself frequently laughing out loud and grinning like a fool!’ BFF Book Blog
‘Witty, enjoyable and unique’ Harlequin Junkie
‘Heart-warming, funny, sweet, romantic and just leaves you feeling good inside’ Bridger Bitches Book Blog
‘Full of pure-joy romance, laugh-out-loud moments and tear-jerkers’ Romantic Times
‘A treat of a book’ Smut Book Junkie Book Reviews
‘Well written and lovable … a bundle of laughs’ Monash Times
‘Heart-warming and raw … I urge you to go on this journey’ Four Chicks Flipping Pages
‘I absolutely loved this book. It has humour, romance, heart-wrenching grief and the excitement to live life to the fullest’ Njkinny’s World of Books & Stuff
‘Completely lovable’ Katy Reads
About the Book
Sera is usually a good girl. (Except for one wild night in the backseat of a stranger’s car!) But what happens when that bad boy turns out to be her new boss? And what happens when he wants more than one night … and he can be very persuasive …
For more laugh-out-loud, swoon-worthy hijinks, don’t miss Jo’s other rom-coms, Burning Moon, Almost a Bride and Finding You.
This one really does need to be dedicated to all my amazing Wattpad readers who loved this book from day one and made it so unbelievably popular! Also, to all the people at Wattpad HQ who’ve been so incredibly supportive of me and my career, especially Caitlin and Alysha! And my husband too, because he’s awesome and some bits of this story are about us, but I won’t tell you which ones … not yet anyway. Oh, and Depeche Mode. Because obviously!
Acknowledgments
The biggest acknowledgment and thanks really does need to go to my husband.
I said that this story was a bit about my husband and I. Truthfully, a few of the events in this story, and a couple of lines too, were inspired by actual events that took place between the two of us. (NO, not the car thing! I’m far too un-bendy for such shenanigans!)
I fell in love with my husband in less than 30 seconds. True story! We were put into a team together for a game of ‘30 Seconds’ and he was terrible at it. I’d never met anyone so bad at the game in my life, but by the time the sand ran out, for some inexplicable, strange reason, I can say with 100% certainty, that I was in love with him. What was so downright bizarre about this whole thing, was that I had known of him for about two years already, and for that entire time, had disliked him immensely! I thought he was arrogant and odd (not in a good way). When I told friends of my sudden love for him, they all replied with a “but I thought you hated him!”. No one really believed me, or thought it was real. I told him three weeks later how I felt, even though I barely knew him. As it turned out, though, he’d been in love with me for the past two years – hence his strange oddness around me. Still, most of our friends questioned these so-called feelings we had for each other, and I don’t think anyone thought it would work out, or last.
But I knew it would work the day that I moved house. I called a rental agent and told him what I wanted; a two bedroom apartment in Killarney. He told me he had one, it was available immediately and offered to show it to
me that afternoon! So I went to see it. And out of all the many, many, many apartment buildings in the suburb of Killarney, all the many, many, many apartments, and out of the 5,200 people who lived in the suburb at the time (according to a census) the apartment he showed me happened to be – by some crazy stroke of fate – next-door to his! Not two doors down, not in the same building, or on the same street … but quite literally next-door! We both took this as a sign, and decided to move in with each other right away. I think we had been in a relationship for only a month at this stage, but we did it anyway. Because we knew it was real.
And now, nine years later, one child, three weddings (one elopement in Las Vegas, one celebration for friends and family, and one meeting with a lawyer to sign papers and make it legal) we’re still together. And if it wasn’t for this personal story, I don’t think I would have ever written this book; he’s also in advertising, only wears black, wears sunglasses inside, and yes, I did land up working for him! (But I’ll still vehemently deny anything ever happening in a car!) So thanks husband, Gareth, for coming into my life and making it more interesting. I guess some thanks must also go to Jeff, the estate agent who unknowingly sealed the fate of the relationship.
Now on some practical notes. I’d like to thank Jessica Smit, who I’ve thanked in all my books, because she is the one who always gives them a first edit, like she did for this book too.
I’d like to thank Tamlin, who’s been there since the Killarney days, and who looks after my son as if he was her own, which gives me the time to write!
I’d like to thank my bff Owen, and his bae Lance, they are constant comic inspiration for my books, and have been my proud supporters from day one.
Last, but not least, my editor Kate and everyone at Headline Eternal for believing in me and publishing my books, and my agent Erica.
Thanks for reading this book of mine! I wish you all many strange, inexplicable, fateful love happenings and relationships that work – despite all the odds!
1. Bad Taste In Wigs
Don’t ask me how the hell it happened …
I could blame it on the vodka.
Maybe I could blame it on JJ and Bruce. Maybe it was the strobing lights of the nightclub and the repetitive doof doof of the bass that triggered some kind of chemical reaction in my brain, causing me to go temporarily insane.
Maybe it was my outfit (NOTE: Never let a drag queen dress you for an evening out). I was wearing a sequined blue thing that could barely be described as a dress, and the famous “Marilyn wig” which they’d brought out especially for me, God only knows why? I looked like a crazed, transvestite prostitute with bad taste in wigs. Maybe that’s why it happened?
But what are the chances?
To find a straight guy at a gay nightclub? Possibly the only one. And to find such a ridiculously hot one, who somehow knew my favorite drink and bought it for me all night long. Who kissed me like that on the dance floor and now had me pinned underneath him in the backseat of his car.
I never did this.
Someone else was half naked and sweating and moaning and grabbing at his tattooed shoulders. Someone else was licking Vodka Cranberry cocktails and sweat off his chest and having the best sex of her life—deliciously dirty sex—with possibly the hottest man that had ever walked the planet.
He’d made me feel like the sexiest woman alive, and that, coupled with the fact that I didn’t know his name and would never see him again—all that strong alcohol helped, too—saw all my inhibitions fly right out the back window of his car. I did and said things I didn’t even know I was capable of. With my face pressed into the seat, I told him how I wanted it. And he willingly gave it to me …
As well as several variations on the requested activity.
And when it was all over, he lay on top of me gasping for air and sweating beautiful glistening drops (God, even his sweat was sexy). It was easily the hottest experience of my entire life. But then he did something very odd, something that tipped me over the edge. He lifted his head and met my eyes with such intensity that everything around me went silent and blurry. He was looking at me like he knew me. Really, really knew me.
My mouth opened and an almost inaudible whisper came out, “Do I know you?”
He smiled at me. A naughty, skew, sexy smile. “Not yet.” And then he kissed me. No one had kissed me like that before. It was the kind of kiss shared by long-lost lovers.
But when some nosey drag queens knocked on the car window and made loud oohing noises and one of them mimed a comic blowjob gesture, I nearly died. I flung the door open and ran, leaving my Sex God shirtless and with his trousers still around his ankles. While I, the girl that never does stuff like this (I reiterate), had to make an embarrassing run of shame across the now crowded parking lot. I could feel every single dramatically drawn, raised eyebrow watching me as I went.
Before I could get far, I was stopped by a distinctly masculine wolf whistle. Sex God clearly had NO inhibitions.
He was now leaning against his car, zipping up his jeans and doing it completely shirtless—with a very appreciative audience, I might add. He lit a cigarette, inhaled slowly and let the smoke curl out of his mouth.
He was like an advert for cool, in that I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck-who-cares kind of way. An advert for everything deplorable and lascivious, but downright filthy-sexy in a man. Who the hell was he?
I really had to go!
I climbed into my car and pulled out of the lot, allowing myself one last glance in his direction. The cigarette hung out of his mouth seductively; his wet hair clung to his face; he was leaning across the bonnet in such a way that he looked like a model from an X-rated Calvin Klein billboard. As I sped away, he blew me a kiss and shouted after me.
“I’m in love!”
2. I Heard He Was Raised By Wolves …
In my head-pounding, hung-over daze, I rolled, slipped, and fell out of bed, feeling like someone had poured sand into my eyes and pushed me down a steep cliff. I got up and pulled the now very itchy sequin dress off and got the fright of my life when I realized I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I knew I’d left the house with panties on last night. Hadn’t I?
I was already running late for work—I had accidentally pressed the snooze button on my phone way too many times—but I couldn’t rush to work looking like I was.
I grabbed some cotton wool, dunked it in make-up remover and attempted to wipe the thick, chalky layers of black smoky eye make-up off my face. My red lipstick was smudged and one of the false lashes was clinging on like a dry spider. The make-up was coming off, but the glitter was more stubborn. “A highlighter, babe. Fab,” JJ had said as he’d emptied the entire jar onto my face. The glitter was sticking to my face like glue and some bits had even lodged themselves into my hairline. The wig was even worse. The clips holding it in place had twisted so badly that everything was completely stuck—no doubt from rubbing my head back and forth in the backseat of a total stranger’s car. Instant nausea rose as I started to think about it again. Crap, what the hell had I been thinking!
But the wig was my top priority right now, and I was left with no choice but to painfully rip it off. I yelped in pain as tufts of brown hair came out in chunks, then I cursed the wig and tossed it onto the floor. I couldn’t believe I’d actually worn the thing—it looked like a dead Maltese puppy.
I dissed my usual middle part, scraping my hair back into a ponytail. Contact lenses out—after inventing some new yoga poses to pry them from my dried-out eyes—and glasses on. Black pantsuit, white-collar shirt and a pair of semi-high heels. Then one last mirror check before running out.
On my way to grab my laptop bag and a handful of headache pills, I passed JJ and Bruce’s room, but before I could give them a vengeful wake-up knock, my passive aggressive attempt at punishing them for their part in my early morning state, I saw the note.
Sera,
You naughty, naughty girl! We heard you caused quite the parking lot spectacle. Dinner tonight, we
want all the juicy details.
XX
J&B
I sighed and, as I went out to my car, my face went red-hot at the thought of telling them what had happened.
My twenty-year-old Toyota had been acting up lately. Another thing to add to the growing to-buy list, along with socks without holes, black pumps with non-peeling soles and now some new undies. But I just couldn’t afford a new car right now—or ever—not between paying back loans and secretly sending money home to my sister Katie.
“Please start, please start, please start,” I pleaded with the hunk of metal junk.
My job was the most important thing in my life. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to help Katie and she’d be at our dad’s mercy. And there was no way I was going to let that happen. I simply couldn’t afford to do anything that would jeopardize it especially since I was one of two interns vying for a permanent position at the company. Being late didn’t exactly scream “hire me.”
I also knew what being late meant. I would surely walk slap bang into an apocalyptic crisis lifted straight from the Book of Revelation. Working at an ad agency means going from one emergency to another. High stakes, lots of money on the line, demanding clients, demanding creatives and deadlines tighter than the skinny jeans they all wear.