Once Upon A Real Good Time (Heartbreakers #1) ~ Page 1

Read Online Books/Novels:Once Upon a Real Good Time (Heartbreakers #1)Author/Writer of Book/Novel:Lauren BlakelyLanguage:EnglishBook Information:

That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star"

Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. Oops.

But I didn’t know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar " like he owned it.

My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we"re both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don"t just have chemistry in bed " we connect over everything.

That is, until I learn he"s the man who"ll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son " the best music lessons money can buy.

Time to turn down the volume on our shenanigans. Only that"s easier said than done.

***

I can rock a guitar solo in front of thousands, I can write chart-topping tunes, and I can absolutely stop thinking about my student"s mother naked.

After all, I"m a single parent too, and I know what it"s like to put your kid first. That"s what I do every damn day.

Trouble is, now that I"ve had Mackenzie, it"s hard " and I do mean hard " to stop wanting her. Harder too when I get to know her, and learn she"s an awesome mom, a great friend, and, oh yeah, she happens to get along perfectly with my daughter.

All we have to do is set some rules. No dating, no nookie when the kids are around, and no one gets hurt.

It"s all working out beautifully. Until we start breaking the rules, one by one.

Making music with her in the bedroom is easy. But will we be more than just a real good time when the music stops"Books in Series:Heartbreakers Series by Lauren BlakelyBooks by Author:Lauren Blakely Books

Chapter 1

Mackenzie

I"m not checking him out.

I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: "Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at""

I"m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate"Caesars, Caesars, Caesars"so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

""in the 2009 movie The Hangover""

"So easy," I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

I"m not a ringer.

I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

That"s all.

Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage"the one I"m not at all checking out"adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything"from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It"s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn"t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won"t want to head home for a long, long time. Except I"ll have to. I"m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.

But for now . . . Hello, nice view.

As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.

I bet they"d fly other places too.

Come to think of it, I better give him a full and proper appraisal, especially since the Jeopardy!-style theme clock blasting from the hostess"s phone is counting down the seconds till we"ve all penned an answer to her latest question, which means I have time to ogle.

A thin blue T-shirt reveals inked and toned arms, and stubble covers his jaw"deliberate stubble. Not the I-didn"t-shave-today stubble, but a healthy amount of scruff. Yum.

"Would you like your camera to take a picture, or have you captured Guitar Hero in your brain for posterity""

I jerk my gaze back to Roxy.

Note to self: develop some subtlety when ogling. Especially since you"re out of practice on . . . everything.

I flip a strand of hair off my shoulder. "I wasn"t checking him out."

Roxy rolls her hazel eyes. "I"m hereby awarding you a trophy for the most unconvincing attempt at denial ever."

I huff. "Fine. He"s crazy handsome. Look at those cheekbones. Those lips. Those eyes."

She sings his praises too. "Those hands, that ass, those legs."

I swat her arm. "Stop perving on my eye candy."

My best friend smiles wickedly. "It"s so easy to see through you."

"I didn"t deny it for long." I hold up one finger. "For, like, one round of denial."

She reaches for my iced tea and hands it to me. "Speaking of rounds, take a drink. It"ll make you strong for the final round of the game."

"Sometimes I think you use me for the useless facts in my head."

"You don"t have to think it. You know I do."

"Love you too."

"Also," she says, leaning closer, "your eye candy was checking you out as well."

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. "Lying liar who lies."

The hostess taps the mic from her spot in front of Mr. Guitar Hero. "And now, for the final question in The Tuesday Night Grouchy Owl Pub Quiz . . ."

Like synchronized swimmers, Roxy and I straighten our shoulders in unison. I grab the pencil. Hold it tight. This isn"t a first-to-the-bell game, but there"s something about being on high alert that feels right. I"m ready.

Questions zip through my brain, answers following instantly as my mind exercises itself. The Beatles were first the Quarrymen; at sixty-three, Jupiter has the most moons; the Pacific is 8,000 meters deep.

"Which Whitney Houston song is an anagram of "mention mine to me"""

What the what"

I turn to Roxy, and we are matching slack-jawed, WTH memes. Admittedly, pop music is my weakest category, but I can handle the basic questions surrounding the genre. This question is a little left of center though. I try my best to cycle through the diva"s tunes. We mouth to each other the big Whitney hits: “I Will Always Love You." "Greatest Love of All." "How Will I Know."

I shake my head, and Roxy furrows her brow.

I stare off at the stage when the guy with the surfer hair catches my gaze and mouths hi, startling me. Is he talking to me" Oh yes, he is, since he follows that hi with four more words.

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