Try Me On for Size

By Stephanie Haefner

A sexy, laugh-out-loud love story about a woman trying to save her failing lingerie business with a new product—“personal massagers” made to the specs of the spokesman of her choice! But when she falls for the first model she meets, how can she prove she’s his perfect fit?

With their business in trouble, Mia and Bryn must pull out all the stops to save their shop. Things get sticky when Mia, owner of Classy ‘n’ Sassy Lingerie, has to go on five blind “dates” to find the right model for the big marketing plan that will save the store. But they aren’t your ordinary blind dates. Mia has to test out the “goods” to find the perfect spokespenis—the model for Classy ‘n’ Sassy’s newest line of lifelike dildos.

Not realizing Mia is on a mission, Oliver Christensen approaches her in a bar and Mia mistakes him for model #1. Oliver decides to play along. But just how far is he willing to take this charade in order to get closer to Mia? And what happens if Mia’s Blind Date #1 turns out to be The One?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pocket Star
• Release date: Aug 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781476765563

Stephanie Haefner

Stephanie Haefner is a wife, mother of two, and contemporary romance novelist from Buffalo, New York. She loves creating sassy heroines and tossing them into sexy circumstances. When not writing, she celebrates her sassiness with dance and Zumba classes, and her nerdiness with boy bands and Disney World.

Book preview

CHAPTER One

Mia Montanari had never been on an actual blind date before, and knowing her first would end in preplanned sex didn’t ease her anxiety at all. What the hell did I get myself into? And this wasn’t even sex for pleasure. It was a job requirement. One she’d yet to decide was a perk or not.

Not a perk. Definitely not a perk.

Though Mia enjoyed sex with hot guys, she normally liked to get to know them first. She was old-fashioned like that.

The bar was kind of dead for a Friday night. She’d chosen this particular place for its proximity to her apartment. The closer to her place, the less chance she’d have to chicken out. She couldn’t chicken out. There was too much riding on this. She’d have to suck up her anxiety and just do it. Like a machine. A sexual robot.

Mia knew the bouncer at The Red Brick Inn pretty well. If the blind-date guy seemed even the tiniest bit psycho, Thor would throw him right out on his picture-perfect ass.

She had a file for each of her interviewees, complete with photos of their naked bodies. After all, she wasn’t just looking for an able penis, she needed a spokesperson for this new venture. And the new venture would require him to be mostly naked.

She checked her phone. Almost a quarter after eight. Where was this guy? Punctuality was huge for her. If he couldn’t be on time for the initial meeting, could he ever be? Men. Mia did not have patience for guys like that, or for many other typical male behaviors. She’d done the dating-go-round and had stepped off, dizzy and ready to vomit. After years of disappointment, she’d given up hope of finding Mr. Right. Now the only man she needed in her life was the one who’d be right for this project.

After a deep breath and a sigh, Mia looked around the bar. Maybe he was there and didn’t see her. She’d told him to look for a woman in a standard-issue Classy ’n’ Sassy Lingerie hot pink hoodie. Hers said Classy across the back. Bryn, her BFF, was the Sassy part of the team. But when she was wearing hot pink, no guy would miss her. And since they only had a handful of interviewees who’d met the prerequisites for the job, they needed to interview every last one. Okay, buddy, you get ten more minutes and then I’m outta here.

As she took another swig of her drink, she thought of Bryn. If the business went belly-up, Mia would survive. She’d be miserable, but she’d survive. The second she found herself jobless, her father would make her work for him. Little in life seemed worse than hawking ridiculously overpriced cars that no sane person needed for a man who’d take glee in controlling her every waking moment, but she’d manage. Bryn? She wouldn’t be okay. It had been almost two years since she and the kids lost Johnny, burying him in a service befitting a fallen soldier, husband, and father.

When the business ran into trouble, Bryn had used her house as collateral. If they failed, Bryn would lose what little she had left. The business meeting three weeks earlier had put it all into perspective.

Sales are down another 25 percent, Grant, the accountant and general office manager, had informed the room. We’ve had this conversation before. You’ve got to do something drastic or we’ll all be out of jobs in six months.

Bryn just sat there in a daze.

Did you hear me? the accounting nerd asked, staring at her, the room silent as his impatience grew. I can’t help you if you won’t even answer me.

She heard you, Mia said, feeling no need to hide her mama-bear attitude. We’ll figure it out. You can go now.

Whatever, he’d huffed and stood. I’ll just go work on my résumé.

Grant had slammed the break room door behind him, the sound echoing through the silence. Mia scanned the table, Bryn and Penny’s clueless faces staring back.

Okay. Let’s brainstorm. What can we do to boost sales? She turned to Penny, their sales slash marketing girl. What have you got?

We’ve already tried everything. We did radio and print. It’s expensive and I can’t find any evidence it’s helped. We did the Valentine’s Day promo with the candy place, but it garnered minimal sales. Right now, people are just not spending money on fancy lingerie.

Unfortunately, she was right. As co-owner of Classy ’n’ Sassy Lingerie for the last eight years, Mia knew that lingerie was a luxury item. And when people needed to save money, they stopped buying frivolous things.

Okay, well, what about a direct-mail campaign? Mia continued. We can do a free panty coupon like our favorite rival has done for years.

Can we really afford to give away hundreds of panties for free with no guarantee people will buy anything else when they stop in? These days, any girl will take a free pair of cute undies, especially with no requirement to buy anything else. And if we make a requirement, well, I think we’re just wasting our time, postcards, and postage.

The room went silent once again.

We need a new product, Bryn said, finally adding to the conversation. Something different.

Different how? Like shapers or something? Those are all the rage.

No. I mean really different. Bryn stood. We built this business by catering to two kinds of women and their significant others. The ones who like simple and classic bras and panties, and the ones who want something sexier, edgier. We have something to spark the interest of every lover, no matter what his or her tastes are, from beige cotton to red lace. But what about the women who don’t have a man? Or don’t want one?

Uh, you kinda lost me, Mia said.

Look, I no longer have a husband. And at this point in my life, I honestly have no desire to replace him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss a certain part of his anatomy every so often, if you know what I mean. Without giving all the dirty details, I have, on occasion, partaken in some . . . self-pleasuring. And so far it hasn’t been all that orgasmic. It’s hard as hell ordering things online. The products are never how they’re described. And it’s not like people love going to their local porn shop. So why don’t we give our customers the opportunity to shop for these beloved intimate accessories in a friendly, comfortable environment?

You want to sell vibrators? Penny asked.

Well, yes. And other things. But I only want to carry products we know are good.

You volunteering to test them out before stocking them? Mia asked.

Why not? Our customers have always come to us for quality products and solid advice. That’s what sets us apart! And for this new venture, I want our customers to trust us in helping them satisfy this . . . need.

Penny jumped in with her thoughts. We can throw a launch party for the line. Keeping it classy, of course, and show women it’s okay to own these types of things.

The wheels in Mia’s head began spinning, too. They needed something big if they were going to survive. A line of tried-and-true toys wasn’t enough. They had to offer their customers something exclusive.

We need something special. Something women can’t get everywhere else.

Like what?

Mia remembered an ad she’d seen in the back of a lingerie catalog. A do-it-yourself dildo mold. Any woman could make a rubber replica of her man’s junk to use when he was away.

How about selling those custom dildo-making kits? Couples can take them home and make it together.

That’s good. I think you’re on the right track. Bryn’s brow furrowed as she walked to the window. But how many women out there are like me and don’t have a model at home to mold?

So, maybe we can find guys to mold. Like have a catalogue of penises or something?

Bryn spun around, smile wide, eyes all glittery like the new bra-and-panty sets that came in the week before. No. Just one penis. One guy to be our signature penis. A spokespenis!

Oh, I like it! Penny said. He can make appearances at the store. Women can buy his replica and get his autograph.

Yes. Exactly! A hot guy women can meet and have a face to take home with the toy. They can chat with him, flirt, take pictures.

I don’t know, Mia said, needing to add her thoughts to the conversation. Is this really what we want for the store? I don’t want to change the reputation we’ve built. We shouldn’t cheapen it, ya know?

Bryn shook her head. No. I think women will love it. And if you ask me, it’s time for a change. We need something big if we’re gonna survive. Yeah, it’s a risk, but anything we do now is a risk, including sticking to the same formula we’ve used for eight years.

She had a point. Okay. It’s worth a shot. But if we’re gonna do this, we do it right. And by that I mean interviewing legitimate models. I don’t want some random guy who’ll get off on having his penis cloned.

No. We’ll have a strict screening process, including references, drug testing . . . STD testing.

Yep. All that. Mia made some notes on her pad. Whoa. Back up. STD testing? Why would we need that?

Well, like I said. We need to test the toys before we sell them. And I’m not going to mold random penises that aren’t any good.

How are we gonna test that?

Mia knew that glint in Bryn’s eyes. And she was not going to like the answer.

By using it before it’s molded.

No. No, she couldn’t mean that.

Someone needs to have sex with the models to make sure their member is adequate.

Why? Can’t we tell that just by looking at it?

No. Different girths and lengths have different feels. You can’t know how it will feel by just looking, or even touching them with your hand. Only a real live vagina can get the data we need to do this right. We need someone who can do this objectively and make an informed decision. And since Penny is married and Grant can’t do it, that only leaves . . .

Bryn eyed Mia, the mischievous grin back.

Oh, no. What about you, Miss Sassy? You’re the one who said the penises need to be tested.

I can test the already-made toys. I can’t test the models.

Sure you can.

The smile faded from Bryn’s face. You know I’m not ready.

Well, I am not having sex with random strangers.

They wouldn’t be random. They’d be thoroughly screened. I can call legitimate modeling agencies and tell them what we’re looking for. We’ll send them for full health screenings. We’ll select guys for the final round and then you’ll have sex with them. But not real sex. Just test it out and see how it feels from different angles. Make sure it’s thick enough, long enough. Not bent or anything funky.

Are we seriously having this conversation?

Penny sat there, giggling. I think it’s brilliant.

No. I’m not doing it. End of discussion. There has to be another way.

But it wasn’t the end of the discussion. And there wasn’t another way that would get them the exact data they needed. This venture couldn’t fail. It had to be done without error. And before Mia could argue anymore, Bryn had pulled out the deceased-husband card and the how-am-I-gonna-take-care-of-the-kids-if-the-business-tanks-and-I-lose-my-house card. All it took was Mia envisioning the devastation on Bryn’s face the day of her husband’s funeral. Mia couldn’t say no. That was the one drawback of promising a dear friend she’d forever watch over his wife. Guardian angel reporting for duty.

So there she sat, waiting in a bar for Penis Number One to arrive, take it back to her place, and test out the seven and a half inches of perfection. It was one of only five that had made it through after she, Bryn, and Penny had stared for an hour at head shots of the finalists.

Pretend you’ve just been dumped by a cheating asshole or something and you’re out to bang every guy you can, Bryn had told Mia that afternoon, after she’d whined once again about doing the interviews. Or channel your inner whore and go on a one-night-stand sex spree.

One more thing to scratch off Mia’s nonexisting dating bucket list. She’d never done it with a guy she’d just met that day.

Another check of her cell phone for the time. Twenty after eight. Maybe this guy Ryan wouldn’t show and she’d only have to test out four meticulously screened penises. One could hope, right?

CHAPTER Two

Oliver Christensen sat on a wobbly bar stool watching the woman in a hooded sweatshirt, an almost fluorescent shade of pink. Not normal attire for a bar, even this kind of establishment. It wasn’t his usual drinking spot, but sitting alone and unrecognized would never happen at any of the places he regularly patronized. He needed to sit and drink and not think about his disaster of a life.

He’d watched her sit there for a while, checking her phone for the time almost every minute. Only a blind man would not notice her, and not only for the bright shade of her shirt. That long dark hair. He couldn’t help but imagine his hands tangled in it. But it was the eyes, too—catlike with long, sexy lashes. The way they scanned the bar, filled with anxiety, hope. Was she meeting someone? A blind date, maybe? She wouldn’t impress anyone on a first date with that outfit.

But it did seem to suit her. The hair was simple—no high-maintenance hairdo or dye job needing retouching every month. Minimal makeup, as far as he could tell. Just a little bit of something on her eyes to really make them stand out. A down-to-earth normal kind of woman. God, that sounded refreshing.

Oliver tossed back his scotch—not the high-end stuff he was used to, so it burned. But sometimes a little burn was good. Reminded him he was still part of the world even though he often felt like a caged animal. He stood and removed his loosened tie and slid the suit coat from his shoulders. Unbuttoning his sleeves, he rolled them to midforearm for a more casual appearance.

Hi, he said as he approached her table. Can I get you a drink?

Oh. Hi. You’re here. Um, no. I’m good. She lifted her half-empty glass and motioned toward the open seat across from her. Sit.

Wow. Nervous.

How are you? he asked. Why, all of a sudden, did he feel nervous, too?

Good. So do you want to know more about me and the shop? I already know the basics about you, though you do look a little different from your photos. Were they taken awhile ago?

Her mouth moved so fast he almost didn’t catch what she’d said. Another sign she was completely out of her element. That and the chugging of the remaining contents of her glass.

She must think he’s her mystery date. A blind date from an Internet dating service maybe? A good guy would stop her right there and tell her he wasn’t who she thought he was. But was there really any harm? He may not have been who she was supposed to meet that night, but he sure could use a night of fun, and pretending to be someone else sounded like just the thing.

Yeah. I probably should get new ones.

Well, I’m from Classy ’n’ Sassy Lingerie. She motioned to the logo on the front of her shirt. I started the business with my best friend after college. And, as you know, we’ve decided to take the business in a new direction and that’s where you come in.

Interesting. Oliver had no clue what he was coming in for, but it sounded intriguing.

We’re hoping to really boost sales with the new product line and save the business. This is so important for us. We need to get it right. We’re only interviewing a very select group of models for the job.

And I made the cut? Did she seriously think he was a model? Because this was clearly a job interview and not a blind date.

Yes. We were really impressed with your, um . . . photos.

Oh. Good.

Silence. Should he ask her name? Or was he supposed to already know it? This impersonating a no-show interviewee thing wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. He looked to the table and her empty glass. Can I get you another drink?

Yeah. Maybe one more would be good. White wine, please.

Oliver went to the bar and ordered the wine and another scotch for himself, questioning whether or not he should be doing this. It was wrong. And it was only a matter of time before she realized he was not who she thought he was.

He turned to look over his shoulder and found her gaze on him. Had she been checking him out?

Her head whipped back, smile bowing her lips, and slowly she turned to meet his eyes again. Oliver couldn’t suppress a smile of his own. God, she was adorable. He needed to know more about her. And spilling the truth now would not allow that to happen.

The bartender set the drinks in front of him and he paid, leaving a generous tip. He handed her the wineglass and she drank. No, she guzzled.

Are you okay? he asked as he sat back in his seat.

She set her glass down and dabbed her lips with a bar napkin. Just a bit nervous.

Let’s get rid of that right now. Tell me more about you. Where’d you grow up? Where’d you go to school?

Kenville. Go Knights! She pumped her fist like a perky cheerleader.

He knew of the small urban area a few towns away. A whole different world compared to his wealthy Newford upbringing. Were you on the cheer squad?

Oh, God no! But my best friend was. I still wonder how we became so close. While she was practicing her basket toss, I was studying for the SATs.

So, you’re the brains of the operation then?

Laughter. Man, she had a great laugh. And it meant she was relaxing.

Bryn is smart, but I’m the one with the business sense. She’s more the girly one with the creative genius. She always knew she wanted to own her own boutique and I kinda tagged along for the ride. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but when I applied to college for business I never thought I’d be peddling bras and panties.

Oliver nodded. What did a women’s lingerie shop need male models for? He shook off the question and got back to her, whoever she was. He now knew the BFF was Bryn, but he wished he knew her name instead.

How did you come up with the name of the shop? Why didn’t you use your own names in it, like Victoria’s Secret?

We had a bunch of ideas in the planning stages. Originally she had wanted to use our names, but I didn’t like what she came up with. They sounded corny to me.

Like what?

She took another sip of wine and her cheeks appeared to redden. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. It’s so embarrassing. She wanted to name the shop Bryn’s Baubles or Mia’s Mentionables.

Mia. Nice. Yeah, those are pretty bad.

We came up with the official name together. I told her we needed something that represented both the classy things we would sell and the sexier stuff, too. And it hit us—Classy ’n’ Sassy. And it fits. I’m the laid-back, modest, classy one, and she’s the outgoing, show-it-off, sassy one.

Sounds like the perfect shop name.

Laid back, modest Mia. A much-welcomed change from what he was accustomed to.

She finished her drink and set the glass back on the table. Ready to go? I walked here, so you can either walk to my apartment with me and leave your car here, or drive over. But I have to warn you, the parking situation near my building is really bad.

They’re going back to her place? What kind of job was this interview for? This was not right. He really should tell her about the mistaken identity and end this. Regardless of how beautiful she was, and funny and sweet. Regardless of the fact that his day—hell, his life—was boring and planned and miserable until he sat at her table and started chatting with her. He’d never done an impulsive thing in his thirty-two years of existence.

Maybe it was time he started making decisions based on what he wanted instead of catering to everyone else. He was sick of being Mr. Responsible. For one night he could be someone else. He deserved a few moments of happiness, right?

I’ll walk with you.

COULD MIA have been more dorky? Babbling like that? But it didn’t matter. She didn’t care what this guy thought of her.

They walked toward the exit and Ryan opened the door for her, a gentlemanly behavior that wasn’t necessary, but was appreciated. Guess she could take back the strike she’d given him for being late. So many times she’d had doors slam in her face on dates. But this wasn’t a date. It was a job interview, and like any other job interview, the interviewee had to prove his capabilities. That’s all this sexcapade was. The only way to find out if his stuff worked the way she needed it to was to test it out. She’d be completely ignoring that sexy smile and the way his behind looked in suit pants. Wonder what it looked like without the pants? She didn’t have a photo of that part of his anatomy.

Focus! Back to business.

So far Ryan had aced the interview. He was pleasant and kind and would be great for the in-store meet and greets. She could see him posing and flirting with young women, but also being sweet to the older women. He seemed like the ideal spokesman.

It must be nice living in such a trendy part of the city, Ryan said as they walked down the sidewalk.

Yeah. It’s the new it place to live. So glad I moved in years ago and locked into a cheap lease.

These old buildings must be gorgeous inside.

That’s what really attracted me to the area. I’d always wanted to leave Kenville, and when I started looking for my own place, I wanted something close to the shop. Bryn stayed in Kenville. It was easier for her to be close to her family with the kids and all, and her husband in Iraq.

Mia stopped talking. Why was she yakking away with this guy like she’d known him forever? Should she be telling a virtual stranger all about her life and her best friend’s?

Um, anyway. At the time they were just starting to renovate these buildings and I lucked out. Mine was the first done and it was all updated and newly painted and everything.

Lucky you. These buildings have so much character. Far more interesting than where I live.

Oh? Where do you live? Mia wondered about this guy. He seemed wealthy. The proof was in the Armani label inside his suit jacket when he’d hung it on the back of his chair. But if the price they’d be paying him was his usual for a modeling gig, he obviously hadn’t made his fortune doing that.

North side of Newford. Pearl and Main.

Well, he definitely didn’t pay for that with modeling money. The people living there made at least mid–six digits.

Is that where you grew up?

Yes.

Hmm. A one-word answer, no elaboration. What did that mean? Mia didn’t get the chance to find out.

Here’s my building.

The fear and anxiety that had momentarily left her body was back. It wasn’t too late. She could still end it.

Mia opened the door and led him up to the third floor. No turning back once she took him inside. To her bed. To test out his penis.

Even now, after all the planning, the idea still sounded ridiculous. She shook away the jitters and put her robot face back on. Do it and get it over with. The first interview would be hardest, right?

Deep breath. Mia turned the key and stepped into apartment 3A, Ryan at her heels.

He walked into the living room, scanning the walls and ceiling. The architecture is amazing.

He was pulling her out of robot mode again.

Um, yeah. Thanks.

Looking around some more, he pointed to the wall. That photo is beautiful.

The thirty-by-forty-inch black-and-white print of downtown Newford at night hung over her couch.

I got it last summer. I love black-and-white prints.

Yeah. Me, too.

She broke away from his gaze. Want a bottle of water? So we can get started?

Sure.

She grabbed two and handed one over. He took it from her, chugging half.

Was that sweat on his forehead? It wasn’t hot in the apartment. In fact, it was kind of chilly. One drawback to living in an