Series: Just a Series #2
on August 18, 2020
Genres: Adult Romantic Comedy
What happens when the right girl and the right guy meet at the wrong time?
One thing that can be said about Quinn Pearson is that she has a knack for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. Like, the worst time ever. Take her job for instance. One little slip of the tongue using the mother of all swear words while reporting the news, and suddenly she finds herself with over 18 million views on YouTube and her employment in jeopardy. If that wasn’t bad enough, when she meets the man of her dreams, she nearly chokes to death on a powdered sugar donut.
Thankfully for Quinn, the dashing Brit, Henry, finds her near death experience quite charming. But just when Quinn thinks her luck is going to change, she finds out her timing is all wrong again. Henry is off limits. Or is he? Maybe it’s time for Quinn to quit settling for what life hands her. Perhaps it’s time for her to become more than just a girl.
In this excerpt, Quinn is with her best friends and they are trying to help her write a text to Henry. Quinn and Henry met the day before when Quinn nearly choked to death on a powdered sugar donut. Henry helped her and then ended up giving her his number. This is the first time she’s tried to contact him and her friend Thomas thinks he could do a better job with the texting.
“Just tell him hi,” Holly says.
I force a breath out my mouth, letting my cheeks fill as I do. “Hi, Henry,” I say as I type the words into my phone.
“Boring,” Thomas says again.
“Well then, what do I say?”
Thomas contemplates with pointer finger on chin. “Ooh,” he says after a beat, his eyes wide. “Tell him that you’re covered completely in only powdered sugar and want him to come over.” He reaches for my phone in an attempt to take it from me.
“Come on, it’s making light of your meet-not-so-cute.”
“Shut up,” I say, but I’m half-giggling.
“Give me the phone.” Thomas tries to grab the phone again.
“Stop it, Thomas,” Holly says, now trying to keep him away.
“Grab him, Alex,” I say, but Alex’s hands are full of the buffalo chicken sandwich he’s eating. He gives me a quick shrug of his shoulders, wordlessly saying he can’t help.
I’m laughing and trying to turn away from Thomas while Holly attempts to swat him away. My grip on my phone tightens, which causes me to type “spnklvn thaiojt,” which autocorrect chooses to change to “spank that,” and before I can delete it, Thomas makes another attempt to pull the phone away from me, and in my haste to get it from him . . . I hit send.
“NOOOOOOOO!” I scream at Thomas. The few patrons left in the restaurant all turn toward me. I can’t even care. I look at my screen willing it to not be true. But staring at me in a blue bubble are the words, “Hey, Henry, spank that.”
“What happened?” Holly says, taking the phone from me. She stares at the screen, and then I see understanding dawn as her eyes go wide and she tucks her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing. She passes the phone to Bree, who does the same thing with her lips. She passes it to Alex, who just covers his mouth, and Alex then gives it to Thomas. Thomas doesn’t even try to cover up a laugh. His guffaw can probably be heard from two counties away.
“Give me back my phone; I have to do damage control,” I say, ripping the phone out of his hand.
The whole table—my group of friends, the people that are closest to me in life—are now all laughing hysterically. Holly’s got tears pouring down her face.
“It’s not funny!” I say, my voice going into a super high-pitched screeching sound.
Thomas wipes his eyes with his napkin, still choking on laughter. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I can fix it.”
“Can you really?” I feel hope burgeoning in my chest. Maybe this can be fixed. Maybe I won’t say “spank that” to my future husband, the father of my blue-eyed babies. Thank you, dear sweet baby Jesus, for Thomas.
He holds his hand out and I pass him the phone. He pushes a few buttons and then hands the phone back to me, the text now gone.
“I’m so paying for your dinner,” I say, giving him a side hug.
My phone beeps.
Henry: I’m sorry?
I feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Thomas!” I thrust my phone into his face. “It didn’t work!”
Thomas can’t even look confused about this. He reaches up and scratches his jaw and then says, “Yeah, I wasn’t sure that would work. Guess it doesn’t.” He lifts his shoulders briefly.
I can’t help myself. I kick him. Hard. In the shin.
About the Author:
By day, Becky Monson is a mother to three young children, and a wife. By night, she escapes with reading books and writing. An award-winning author, Becky uses humor and true-life experiences to bring her characters to life. She loves all things chick-lit (movies, books, etc.), and wishes she had a British accent. She has recently given up Diet Coke for the fiftieth time and is hopeful this time will last… but it probably won’t.
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