Pretty Daring

By Jenn Hype

If you ask me, foolishness is like beauty - all about the eye of the beholder.

For instance - I’ve been told the amount of caffeine I consume on a daily basis will eventually kill me, which makes no sense, because that caffeine is essential to living. Then I have doctors telling me that I need to get more sleep if I want to live a happy, healthy life. I can easily refute those claims, because my life is neither happy nor healthy if I don’t utilize every possible second of each day to ensure my life’s goals are met.

Now I’ve got people claiming that hooking up with the sexy bodyguard I hired after someone tried to kill me in broad daylight is a mistake. And, okay, they might be right about that one. Even I can’t argue that it’s not healthy to sleep with someone you can barely stand to be around outside the bedroom.

But you know what? Life is already short enough. If there’s a chance I might die young, then I’m going to go out with a bang - preferably the kind that comes with an orgasm or twelve.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Living Hype, Ltd.
• Release date: Sep 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370065363

Jenn Hype

What's up world - I'm Jenn Hype. Author, mother, wife, singer/songwriter, aspiring comedian - I wear many hats. Some of them fit, some of them look ridiculous, and all of them are fun. Life's too short to take anything too seriously, so I don't. Sarcasm is my go-to, especially when it's most inappropriate. Need someone to make an uncomfortable situation even more awkward? I'm the girl for the job. I'm ridiculously A.D.D. and I own it. I have a serious addiction to ecards and the majority of my Pinterest account is dedicated to them. The key to my heart is glitter and caffeine - my needs are basic. I'm a bookaholic and I crush hard on my book boyfriends and their authors. Some might call me obsessive, but I disagree. That word really doesn't do justice to how crazy I get when it comes to something I'm passionate about. I'm not afraid to go fangirl on you, so don't test me. Anything else you want to know, feel free to ask. I'm an open book, and I love to hear from readers.

Book preview

Pretty Daring

Jenn Hype

Pretty Daring

Copyright ©2018 by Living Hype, Ltd.

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Living Hype, Ltd.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Book design by J. F. Rountree

www.jennhype.com

[e-mail]

E-Book Edition September 2018

To Jo for your constant support, wisdom and humor.

CHAPTER ONE

Paige

PUT IT DOWN, Paige.

Clara’s stern voice admittedly made me hesitate. For a microsecond.

I’m serious. If you don’t, I will forcibly remove it from your clutches.

My eyes darted to the side to gauge just how serious her threats were. Clara, with her blonde hair curled into perfect victory rolls and hands perched on her envy-worthy curvy hips, stared at me with fearless determination.

With an exaggerated pout and a loud huff, I put the coffee cup down on the table in front of me. Then I stared at it longingly.

I know, coffee. I want to drink you, too. But the mean lady is bullying me.

My fingers twitched to reach out and grab it again. Feel the heat warming my hands, smell the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans wafting through the little hole in the lid.

Instead, I slumped back into my chair. And kicked the table leg with my foot. Then maybe crossed my arms and grunted like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. Clara, the big jerk, laughed.

She moved to sit across from me, but right before her ass touched the seat, I kicked the chair from underneath the table. It scooted across the floor loudly. Right before Clara fell straight onto her ass.

What the-

Clara struggled to get back onto her feet. I almost joined her on the floor I was laughing so hard. Vaguely my subconscious tugged at me, trying to remind me that everyone in the little cafe was staring at us. If any of them recognized me, the spectacle I’d just made would likely wind up in tomorrow’s tabloids.

Like I cared.

I’m going to murder you, Clara seethed.

Her threat only made me laugh harder. Fanning my eyes to try and dry the tears streaming down my face, I struggled to breathe. My stomach muscles ached and my lungs screamed for air. It was that kind of laugh. The kind where you have to heave in big gulps of air just to get your breathing back to normal once the laughter starts to taper off.

After wiping her butt off with her hands, she reached for her chair, her eyes never straying from me. Like she thought I'd try it again.

Once she was safely seated at the table, she grumbled to herself. Something about my being a caffeine-addicted pain in her ass.

Truth.

She loved me, though. We'd bonded over our fashion obsession sophomore year of college. Clara had a kind soul, that much I'd noticed immediately. Considering she was the only person in my life to ever call me out on my dyslexia. Not that I'd ever been properly diagnosed, but I had always sort of known. My parents refused to find out for sure and get me the help I desperately needed growing up. Instead, they made ridiculous donations to the schools in return for them overlooking my…shortcomings.

So when Clara asked me about it, I'd vehemently denied it. She let it go. At first. Instead, she'd subtly do things to help me. Like volunteering to be my study buddy. Or insisting on it, rather. Almost every evening she'd be at my apartment or stalk me to the library. She'd read out loud, pretending as though it helped her, but I knew she was doing it for me. After about six months, she approached the subject again and I unburdened on her. She took it like a boss. Declared herself my private tutor and all but smacked me across the face when I tried to argue with her.

Needless to say, she was my best friend. A better friend than I'd ever had or could ever ask for.

Instead of punching me like she probably wanted to, she took my coffee cup and tossed it in the trash as revenge. I'd have preferred getting punched.

Now, tell me what your dad said.

I sighed, groaned, rolled my eyes and did just about any other gesture possible to show my exasperation and annoyance at her question. The conversation was inevitable. She'd drag it out of me. But I still tried to stall.

Are those the new shoes you got last week? They are fab. Your legs look killer.

She narrowed her bright blue eyes at me. Quit trying to deflect by stating the obvious. Of course my legs look amazing. That's why I spent an ungodly amount of money on these heels. Now spill.

Fine! I threw up my hands. A few patrons nearby sent me disapproving looks.

Give me a break. It’s a cafe, not a monastery.

He called to say he got another death threat. Not uncommon for my dad. Being a politician whose primary focus was lowering crime in the city by taking down the most powerful criminals meant death threats were par for the course.

Clara sat silently, forcing me to continue. Apparently this one is credible and they mentioned going after his family. So he mentioned something about hiring me some sort of around-the-clock bodyguard nonsense.

The only reason he even cared enough to make sure I remained safe was because of his precious public image. Who would vote for a man who doesn't care if his daughter lives or dies?

Maybe that's dramatic. He might care if I died. Who knows.

Wow, that's crazy.

The worry in Clara's voice made me look up from the chip in the table I'd been picking at. Talking about my parents always made me uncomfortable.

It'll be fine, I waved off her concern nonchalantly. Like maybe having a powerful mob boss contracting a hit on you was no big deal. I'm sure he's just being cautious.

Um, quit acting like this isn't a big deal. She scrunched up her nose, looking at me like I was crazy. Then pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen at inhuman speeds. It chimed a second later, and with a few more swipes of her fingers, she locked her phone and sat it face down on the table. With her hands clasped in front of her, she leveled me with a look so serious it had me slouching down in my chair.

My brother is sending one of his employees over here now to talk to you.

Clare-

She stopped my argument with a wave of her hand and a glare.

His company is the best. I don't care what you have to do. You convince your dad to hire them. If not for yourself, then for me. I won't be able to function knowing you might be in danger. So, for my peace of mind, at least hear him out.

I nodded, my throat too thick with emotion to respond. Clara was the first and only person in my life to make me feel valued, appreciated and important. She cared, and every time she did or said something to show it, I had to fight back the onslaught of emotions it caused.

Knowing the effect her love had on me, Clara stood and gave me a hug. Then, like the true best friend she was, she excused herself to the bathroom to give me a minute to compose myself.

Deciding fresh air would help, I walked outside and let the cool November breeze wash over me. The tears building in the corners of my eyes froze, then vanished. A few deep breaths and I felt composed again.

I turned to head back inside, but just as my fingers grazed the cool, metal handle, I was jerked back by my arm. The sudden onslaught of chaotic movements knocked me off-kilter. I felt myself falling. Or rather, being pulled towards the ground by forces stronger than gravity. Both feet came out from under me, one of my shoes flying off.

Freaking hell. These are my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos. If something happens to that shoe I’m going to be so livid.

The streets were busy, so instead of hitting the ground, I bounced off passersby like a pinball. It registered then that someone had a hold of my bag. They managed to keep their hold on the strap, even as I was tossed around like a ragdoll.

Twenty-four years I’d lived in New York City and had never been mugged. Until now. A smarter person would have let go of the bag or shouted for help. Right? I’d always considered myself to be fairly intelligent. I questioned that now though, because my instinct wasn’t to run away from danger. It was to reach out and yank on my purse. Because a tug-of-war with an attempted mugger was exactly what I’d wanted to do today.

And Clara said I never tried to mark anything off my bucket list...

The dirty, sickly thin man on the other end of my Hermes put up a good fight. His inability to completely wrench the purse from my grasp meant either I’d sprouted big-ass arm muscles overnight, or he was likely homeless and too weak to overtake me. In an untimely moment of compassion, I felt a brief pang of pity in my chest. The thief took that moment of kindness as his opportunity to wrench the purse out of my hands.

If he’d just given me my bag back, I’d have given him some money. But no. You know what he did?

He punched me! Right in the freaking jaw. Totally unnecessary.

My mouth filled with blood. I stumbled back a few steps, but managed to find my footing rather quickly, even when down a shoe. Out of my periphery I noticed a crowd gathering. Apparently all the people who’d been too busy to help me a minute ago weren’t too busy to form a circle around us like we were street performers. Not a damn one of them was stepping in to help me, but a few were taking video.

If I go viral for this, I’m kicking someone’s ass...

I’d never been in a physical altercation. Never even considered actually hitting someone.

That was about to change.

I lunged at the scrawny man. Adrenaline had kicked in and I felt energy building inside of me. It was way more awesome than a stupid cup of coffee. Caffeine had nothing on a good old fashioned fight.

Maybe instead of drinking three pots of coffee a day I should become an adrenaline junkie and pick up some dangerous hobbies…

A thought for another time. You know, when I wasn't grappling with a criminal for my belongings in front of dozens of strangers.

Before I could even get a hit in, a behemoth of a man stepped up and grabbed the old man by the collar of his dirty shirt.

Instead of being grateful that someone finally decided to help out, my first reaction was to be pissed. No one wanted to help until I was about to get scrappy? Way to steal my freaking thunder. I had half a mind to punch Bigfoot and demand he put the homeless guy down so I could kick both their asses.

Which was stupid. I wasn’t so far gone that I didn’t realize how ridiculous that sounded. Plus, once I got a good look at the man taking it upon himself to intervene, I had to admit the Jolly Green Giant was actually pretty hot.

A thick, muscular arm held my mugger in the air effortlessly. I took a second to admire him. The sexy one with muscles, not the gross homeless guy.

Not really an appropriate time to be checking someone out, but hey. Any woman with working lady parts wouldn't be able to resist taking a second to admire some glorious man candy in the flesh. Especially a woman in the middle of an eight month dry spell.

He really was freakishly big, but holy hell he was also seriously built. His legs were covered with dark denim jeans. That was no fun, so I moved my gaze upward, past his bulging biceps until I landed on his face. He was facing to the side, only giving me a profile view. Bummer. I couldn’t perv out and look for the outlines of his man meat behind his zipper. Also, man meat? Where the hell did that come from? Craning my neck, I tried to discreetly check out what he had going on in the back. Hard to say due to those stupid jeans, but I could assume with a fair amount of certainty that his backside was pert and tight. Running my tongue over my teeth, I pictured leaving bite marks on his hiney.

Can't say I'd ever felt the urge to bite a man's ass. Until now.

After pausing a second to admire the way his broad chest stretched out the fabric of his shirt deliciously, I finally found my way to his face. Even with a neatly trimmed beard covering his jaw line, I could tell it was clenched based on the way the veins in his next looked like they might burst. Then...then I found his eyes. So dark they were almost black. Menacing. That was the only way to describe him. I had the sudden urge to take a step back.

At least I wasn’t the only one terrified of the mountain man. The homeless guy still dangling in the air wet himself. His dirty, khaki colored pants turned dark in the crotch. The putrid smell emanating from the man was enough to snap me out of my ill-timed lust session.

Put him down. The words were out before I even formed them in my head. I was fairly certain this guy was Bruce Banner’s smaller, less-green brother. Bruce Jr.’s eyes turned impossibly darker as he glared at me, but I refused to back down. Why was I finding this whole encounter sexy?

Really unfortunate circumstances aside, I’d never been so instantly affected by someone. It was overwhelming and unnerving. Unnerving wasn’t even the right word for it. More like, life-altering. Sounds dramatic, right? Yeah, well, I was twenty-four years old and trying not to act like a hormonal tween at a One Direction concert. Dramatic pretty much nailed it.

Adrenaline, even stronger than before, kicked in. It felt like I was cliff-diving above a pool of blood-thirsty sharks with a bunch of razor blade cuts all over my body. If his eyes slightly widening and his mouth popping open just a fraction was any indication, then he felt it too. The bizarre, horribly timed insta-attraction between us. Or maybe he just thought I was nuts for yelling at him.

Nah. He totally felt it, too. I didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to my chest for a second there. Thanks, boobs, for being too big to fit into anything without making me look indecent.

Finally tearing his eyes away from mine, the burly, masculine, delicious specimen of a man looked back at my attacker and yanked my purse from his grip while simultaneously tossing him down to the ground. When the mugger tried to crabwalk backwards, my sexy savior took a menacing step forward, like he intended to pummel the man with urine soaked pants and a tear-streaked face.

Again acting without thinking, I quickly closed the gap between them and placed my hand on muscle man’s arm. His foot stopped mid-air, and in the time he took to glance back to see who was gripping his arm, homeless mugger-man made it to his feet and sprinted away.

Quite spritely for someone wearing pee pants and appeared to be two days away from death.

At that point we’d drawn ourselves a pretty large audience. I barely registered the dozens of faces staring at us. They could whisper to themselves all damn day and I wouldn’t care as long as my hand got to stay glued to Hulk Jr.’s arm.

He, apparently, did not feel the same way. He looked at my hand like he was mortified that I was touching him.

Oops. Didn’t realize I’d been digging my nails into his skin. Even managed to draw a little blood.

Way to go, Paige. Maul the guy who saved you.

Embarrassed, I yanked my hand away, palm tingling, fingers itching to reach out and touch him again. Just touch, not claw. Well, I wouldn't be opposed to clawing up his back a little. Ya know, in the heat of the moment.

Why did you let him get away?

His voice was exactly what one would anticipate coming from such a manly man - deep and gruff. One sentence spoken low enough for only my ears to pick up. A simple question that my rational side told me probably meant nothing. My libido disagreed.

He either ignored my full body shiver or he was seriously oblivious. I’d take either one. His face was stoic, his expression unreadable. No, no wait. Not unreadable. He-Man was pissed. But why did he sound like he was more pissed at me - hellooo, victim here - than he was at that jackass who’d clocked my jaw a few minutes ago? I had half a mind to hold my hands up and yell, Hey, I’m the damsel here, remember?

My eyes zeroed in on the logo embroidered on the right side of his navy polo - Jade Securities.

Shit. He works for Clara's brother.

Speak of the she-devil…

What the everloving hell is going on? Clara stormed through the crowd surrounding us. Her disruption caused most of them to disperse. A few stragglers stuck around to watch Clara's flailing arms and theatrics. I come out of the bathroom and you're nowhere in sight. Then I see this crowd outside but I can't get through it to see what's happening and when I finally do, I see you and Sebastian having some sort of weird showdown. What did I miss?

Sebastian took the liberty of answering for me.

Your friend here was trying to take on a mugger by herself, then let him get away when I intervened.

His tone sounded so damn accusatory. Like I'd done something wrong. Again, victim.

He was obviously homeless and starving. The man wet himself, for God's sake. I felt his humiliation was punishment enough.

If the way his face turned bright red and his fists clenched at his sides were any indication, he did not care for my explanation. Tough cookies.

I steeled myself for an argument, but he shocked the hell out of me. Closing the distance between us, he reached up and gently cupped my jaw. Despite wincing in pain when his thumb grazed over the area where I'd been punched, goosebumps popped up on every inch of my skin.

He hit you. That voice. Hot damn, his voice did things to parts of my body that had no business being involved in this conversation. He was practically growling at me. That should have been annoying, right? Tell that to my lady parts. They happened to like the growling.

Clara effectively ruined the moment by leaping in front of Sebastian and practically knocking his hand away from me so she could inspect my face herself. She, however, was not as gentle. I swatted her away like an annoying fly.

My hand instinctively reached up and lightly touched where his hand had been. Honestly, he hadn’t hit me all that hard. Hell, he'd probably gone so long without food that he lacked the muscle mass to do any real damage. What I'd actually be feeling for days was the hot burn on my skin from that gentle touch. The one Clara ruined. She's lucky I love her so damn much. For all I knew, that one touch could have turned into a kiss and next thing you know, we're riding off into the