Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Naughty New Year
A Reverse Harem Romance
By Charlotte Grace
Copyright © 2017 Charlotte Grace
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Charlotte Grace
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Naughty New Year
Copyright and Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
More From Charlotte
About The Author
Chapter One
“You can move back in tomorrow afternoon,” the balding man says, and I give him a nasty stare and walk to my car with my head hanging low.
I’ve had it with this guy. My landlord. He conveniently showed me an ideal apartment that fit my budget in Koreatown on a Sunday, without bothering to tell me about the thriving carryout restaurant directly beneath my unit that would open again on Monday. And if the banging of the pots and pans coming up through the vents and the high-pitched laughter of the customers wasn’t enough, the smells of the cooking oil and garlic wafting under my nose while I tried to sleep had me thinking about using all manner of instruments of torture on the guy.
That inconvenience, however, was a walk in the park compared to the day two weeks later when the cockroaches began crawling up from the cracks in the floorboards, so many, I knew I needed more than a can of Raid to get rid of them.
Now, here I am, escaping the fumes of the pest control treatment. They told me to leave all the windows open and my cheapskate landlord won’t foot the bill for a hotel. He said roaches are a “reasonable expectation” when you live above a restaurant. I counter with telling a prospective tenant about the restaurant is reasonable, but he won’t listen.
It was either call Beth or sleep in my car. Luckily, my best friend Beth is happy to welcome me for the night, since my wallet gave me a what are you looking at me for stare when I checked to see if I could afford a hotel.
And the beat goes on. “Don’t you do this!” I growl under my breath as my Honda Civic stalls. The last thing I need is a broken-down car. But as if afraid of my idle threat, the engine roars to life, and I gratefully pull out of the small parking space, counting my lucky stars.
It’s about time I caught a break, because this year has been one for the record books. Everything that could go wrong did. Twice. The roach-infested apartment is only the latest obstacle in a year I would simply describe as “the worst ever.”
Thinking back, I know my bad luck began when I walked in on Justin with another girl. The look of shock on his face is still ingrained in my memory, along with the shriek from the beautiful blonde lying naked on my side of the bed. The asshole tried to blame me for catching him cheating, bitching to me about why I was home early, when I told him I’d be working late.
From there, things just seemed to snowball. Of course, I moved out of our shared apartment because I’m not going to tolerate blatant disrespect. Real estate is expensive and vacancies are rare in the City of Angels, which is what led to me first living in a private bedroom in a bad neighborhood on the east side. The landlord would only allow me to rent weekly, which I thought was a huge inconvenience, but later found myself grateful when the building burnt down just two weeks into my stay.
Thankfully, I was at work at Richey’s during the fire, but I lost everything that wasn’t in my storage unit – including my computer and entire wardrobe. Missy, my boss at the gourmet shop, was nice enough to give me three days off to get my life together, but what she failed to mention was that would be my regular schedule going forward.
Turns out not so many people in LA want gourmet cookies, and the shop had to cut my hours to part-time to make up for the slow pace of business. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, because I needed money to move into the roach coach, as I know thought of my apartment.
It’s really been a shit of a year, but it’s all going to shape up for the better, I’m sure of it. This past summer, Beth convinced me to book an all-inclusive cruise right after the New Year. While it seemed so far away at the time, it was coming up fast, and it couldn’t come soon enough.
I decided this trip is going to be our rebirth, since my best friend had experienced her own fair share of trials over the past twelve months. We would drink ourselves into oblivion and have the time of our lives while cruising through the Caribbean.
My bank account might not agree, but I know this trip is just what I need. Besides, everything was paid in advance, so it shouldn’t cost me too much more, and a little girl time with Beth always livened my spirits.
I pull up to her two-story townhouse and draw in a deep breath before grabbing my duffle bag from the passenger seat. Soon enough, this year of bad news will all be behind me and I’ll laugh about the time my apartment was infested with roaches, forcing me to stay at Beth’s while the fumigators worked their magic.
For now, it was anything but a joke, so I brace myself. No matter what is going on, Beth always sees the good in every situation. There are some moments when I just need to wallow in a little pity party and get it out of my system, but sulking is not in Beth’s comfort zone, so I give myself a minute before I stroll across the lawn.
Beth opens the front door before I even make it to the porch. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself relaxing as I take the final steps into her home.
Unlike me, Beth comes from a wealthy family who gifted her with a townhouse on her twenty-first birthday. Walking into the marble-tiled foyer, I’m engulfed by her thin arms as she drapes herself around me.
“I’ve got a surprise to cheer you up, Maggie!” she yells before planting a wet kiss on my cheek.
“Okay, okay,” I giggle, shrugging her tiny figure off my shoulders before asking, “where’s the wine?”
“Don’t you worry, I’ve got everything lined up.” She smirks in the way that lets me know she has something up her sleeve.
“Beth, what are you planning?” I ask with my head tilted, my long brown waves cascading over my shoulder.
“Oh, just relax. I’m not going to have you jumping out of planes or anything,” she teases, leading me to her kitchen, which is fully stocked with Styrofoam boxes of takeout food.
“You’re starting out on the right foot,” I mumble, heading toward the alluring smell of Indian curry.
Opening the first box, I see skewers of tandoori chicken so appetizing my mouth waters as I look across the kitchen island, watching my best friend climb into a bar stool.
“I
got us the hottest tickets of the year, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She grins at me, reaching across the marble countertop to pick a skewer from the takeout box.
“Is that your way of inviting me out?” I twist my lips in confusion while chewing a bite of the tandoori chicken.
“It’s more of a mandatory appearance than an invitation,” she giggles, watching me carefully as she studies my reaction.
“Please don’t tell me it’s tonight, because I’m drained,” I plead, unable to muster enough energy for one of Beth’s nights out.
My best friend is well connected in the city and often negotiates our way into VIP rooms and A-list events, so I know a night out with her will be one I’ll never forget. Even still, I can’t bear to spend a night jumping on couches after the day from hell I’ve been through.
“Calm down, drama queen. It’s not until New Years, so you’ve got time to recover from the creepy crawlers,” she laughs before the words are even out of her mouth.
“Don’t bring that up!” I shriek, pausing as I lift the lid of another Styrofoam box, revealing a yellow curry with white rice.
“Okay, too soon!” she chuckles, and this time I laugh with her as I stuff a spoonful of curry into my mouth, my eyes closing with delight as the masterful flavors play on my tongue.
Chapter Two
The New Year really snuck up on us, arriving much quicker than I anticipated. After moving back into my apartment, things seem to be shaping up for the first time in a while. As always, Beth has remained determined to take me out to celebrate the holiday, despite my apprehensions.
Our vacation is only days away, and I don’t want to spend any money until I step on that cruise ship, but Beth isn’t leaving me any room to back out. After promising that everything would be on the house, because her older brother was the investor behind the party, I agreed to go. He’s recently added club promotions to his growing portfolio, so I know it will be top of the line, just like every other event we’ve been to on his behalf.
“You look hot!” Beth chimes, sauntering into her living room wearing a skintight red bondage dress that reveals more than it hides.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and she is determined to go home with the love of her life, whoever he may be. I, being the realist, am just trying to have a good night, ending what I am determined to deem my last year of bad luck.
Everything will improve beginning at midnight if I have anything to do with it. This stint of misfortune will soon be behind me. Manifesting my future success has been a high priority.
“How did you even get into this?” Beth asks while tugging at my black dress.
Hoping to switch it up for the big occasion, I chose to wear my hair sleek and bone straight, allowing my hips and Double-D’s to be the only waves for the night. My six-inch stilettos make my legs look even longer than they are, and I bounce with an extra boost of confidence as I make my way to the front door.
“Knock it off!” I swat Beth’s hand, continuing out of her gorgeous home before climbing into her S-Class Mercedes Benz, ready for another night on the town.
“Finish that,” she warns, pointing to my red plastic cup, filled to the brim with cranberry juice and Grey Goose Vodka.
Knowing she worries about getting pulled over, I chug the drink without question before strapping in my seatbelt and scrolling her music playlist, assuming my job as the DJ for our ride to Hollywood.
“Look at these losers,” Beth sneers, pulling into the valet line as she eyes the seemingly endless line of people waiting to enter the nightclub.
“Tonight is only VIP valet,” the young guy in a black suit jacket yells into the car, his eyes focusing on a Lamborghini, which pulled in directly behind us.
“I’m Beth Matthews,” she sighs, annoyed by his lack of recognition.
“I’m so sorry,” he yelps, and suddenly we have his undivided attention, his hands rushing to open her car door as he apologizes profusely before giving us instructions for entering the party.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll let my brother know you did a good job.” She smiles at the valet, and he releases a breath I’m sure he was holding, afraid he’d upset his boss’s sister.
“You let him have it,” I whisper as we sashay to the front door, gasps of both envy and curiosity at our backs as we make our way into the club.
The atmosphere is electric, women hanging from the ceiling, dancing in lingerie while holding on to a thick silk rope. The men are mostly dressed in suits, the elite of the city, out on the prowl for the biggest night in Hollywood.
Tickets must have cost an arm and a leg, because the party is top of the line – our VIP table comes equipped with unlimited bottle service, delivered by a model-thin blonde wearing the shortest dress I’ve ever seen.
“It seems you two have it all covered, but you’re more than welcome to join us,” a deep voice whispers off my left shoulder.
“Oh, we were just settling in,” I say. I blush. He’s cute, but not really my type.
Wearing a polka dot bowtie and suspenders, his handsome face is a bit overshadowed by his lack of taste. Looking over at Beth, fully prepared to turn down the request, I watch her jump to her feet, extending her hand to the stranger.
“Yes, we’d love some company,” she smiles, exiting our private area in a hurry.
“What are you doing?” I quickly follow behind her, confused by her acceptance.
“Maggie, you can’t go your whole life finding something wrong with every opportunity,” she smirks before stepping in front of me to climb the steps to their booth.
I’m lost for words, despite my deep desire to set her straight. I don’t find something wrong with every opportunity; it just so happens that this guy can’t dress. It’s not my fault he thinks black tie means dotted bow tie, and suspenders are more appealing than a belt.
She makes the introductions, “I’m Beth, this is Maggie,” as we step into what feels like a Lion’s den. Men of all shapes and sizes eye us like fresh meat while we make our way into their crowded section, at least a dozen sets of eyes watching our every move.
“It’s so sexy having so many guys watching us,” Beth sighs before biting her lip as she sits on the red leather sofa. Her eyes are wide with excitement when I settle in beside her.
“No, I feel like lunch.” I roll my eyes, glancing up at the men still gawking.
“It’s sexy knowing we’re wanted by more men than we can count. I’d take at least two of them home with me,” she smiles, winking at one particular admirer who seems a bit more eager than the rest.
“You would not take more than one guy home, Beth!” I sneer, giggling at her absurdity.
“There are some things even best friends don’t know about each other.” She glances over at me before curling her index finger, waving over the tall, dark hunk with a bold eye.
Watching the two flirt, my thoughts struggle to decipher just how serious she was about taking more than one guy home. Having never lived with Beth, I’m only privy to the details she chooses to impart. Now, I’m wondering how wild her nights get in the beautiful Melrose townhouse.
“Do you want a drink?” a handsome man asks, disturbing my thoughts.
“Umm, sure.” I hesitate, trying to live in the moment like Beth.
“What?” he yells over the blaring music, leaning over so that his mouth is so close to my shoulder. I wince, jerking back to reclaim my space.
“Yes, that’s fine. Vodka and cranberry,” I order from a safe distance.
The tall and muscular man laughs before retreating into the party as I sit alone on the sofa. The party is over the top, with people crowding the dance floor, which is a rarity in Hollywood. People don’t dance in LA; instead they exchange business cards with headshots and name drop celebrities as casually as possible.
A party with people truly enjoying themselves is a rarity, so I take an extra moment to relax and people watch – appreciating the freedom that only the eve of a new year can bring. Ever
yone seems to be ridding themselves of the year, just like me. In my mind, I repeat that this is the start of a new year, and watch as bodies grind on each other in rhythm to the bass line.
The man returns. “Here you go,” he says, extending a pink drink with his long fingers wrapped around the glass.
“Thanks,” I smile, trying my best to loosen up as he sits beside me.
“So, what’s your name?” he yells, taking a swig of his own drink. He seems to have opted for whiskey, the amber-colored liquid swirling around his tumbler as he looks over my body with a hungry gaze.
“Maggie!” I loudly respond, hoping he can hear me over the large speakers only feet from the sofa.
“Cool! Are you from LA?’ He scoots closer to me, and I feel my thighs begin to overheat.
Without consciously making a decision, my body slides back, recreating the space between us. While I try to be as subtle as possible, I can see the acknowledgement on his face when his eyebrows rise in shock.
“Kinda. . .” I answer, but I can tell he’s only half listening.
“Okay, well –” he begins before a busty woman leans down, her breasts threatening to fall from her strappy dress at any second.
“You look bored, let’s party,” she smirks, glancing over to look at me without shame.
“Yeah, this party’s dead,” he grins back, reaching up to grip her hips before pulling her into his lap.
“Ahh! What are you doing?” she squeals in a tone that lets you know she’s not surprised or against anything he’s doing.
Instead of answering, he dips her back so that her long hair falls into my lap, before taking her mouth with a vengeance, kissing her so deeply his jaws cave in as he suctions his mouth.
“You’re like the worst party friend,” Beth growls in my ear as I struggle to turn away from the hot make-out session to the right of me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, although I’m fully aware of what she means.
“That could’ve been you.” She nods toward the new couple, their tongues fighting for position as I stand to make room for their intimate interaction.
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