What the Flip

By Emily James

"Squatting: The action of occupying a property without permission."

 

Gabby: I prefer the term, borrowing, or, taking care of a property that would otherwise fall into ruin. 

And I am enjoying it until the hot new, grumpy-as-hell owner turns up intent on chucking me out so he can flip the place to make a profit.

Persuading him to let me stay is almost as hard as the work he dolls out for the back rent he says I owe.

But damn if that construction-worker body of his isn't hot enough to melt concrete…

 

Dan: I've got four weeks to flip my new place and sell it for a profit. 

I don't have time to deal with the sexy squatter intent on staying put.

But since she has nowhere else to go, I decide I'll let her stay, so long as she earns her keep.

Then she's out. 

If only she wasn't so tempting, taunting me with her body as she gets down and dirty on my site.

 

Gabby and Dan:

Four weeks to fix up the house, sell it and say goodbye.

Four weeks with no flirting, no eye-fucking and no fantasizing about each other.

We can totally do it.

Until we can't…

 

WHAT THE FLIP is a new, hilarious romcom novella (read in about 2 hours). It can be read as a standalone (no cliffhanger!) or as the first instalment of the Love in Short series of standalone (full length) novels.

 

WARNING: May induce tears of laughter, all the feels and a puddle in your pants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily James
• Release date: Oct 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393129134

Book preview

Chapter 1

Gabby

S hit! I mutter under my breath, rejamming the plug into the socket to charge my phone. The generator I bought on Marketplace must have run out of fuel again, which means tomorrow, I’ll have to ride my bike the four miles to the gas station to refill the Gerry can. I swear, the petrol attendant must be starting to wonder why a woman who doesn’t own a car buys so much damn fuel.

Just one of the many joys of living in a squat, Gabby!

Correction – not squatter, borrower.

Up until two months ago, I was a full-fledged tenant, with a rental agreement and let’s just say, legitimate owner of a set of keys. That was until the place was bought by some hot-shot property developer who probably plans to flatten my home and build luxury apartments, leaving me with no option but to move out. I was all packed, but then my next place fell through and I was left thanking God that I had the foresight to get an extra key cut to keep under the rock by the door in case I ever got myself locked out. Afterall, as I already learned the hard way, locksmiths are expensive.

I throw another log on the fireplace of the one-bedroom bungalow I’ve been living in for the last six months, and place another vat of water on to it to boil. This is the fifth pan of water tonight, and after it’s heated I’ll have just enough steaming hot water to fill my bubble bath, which is sorely needed after a night slinging beer to the patrons of the bar I work at.

I light the candles I have spread around the bathroom using my last match, pick up my paperback and place it on the upturned box at the side of the tub while I strip out of my beer-stained clothes and then lie back in the bubbles to allow the heat to penetrate my bones.

I never meant to end up squatting—I mean, borrowing—this property but the lack of other affordable rentals in the vicinity has meant it’s become inevitable. I was supposed to be just passing through the town of Heaven, East Angleford, but when the owner of the local bar, Larry, gave me a permanent job, I decided to stick around. It’s the first time in my twenty-three years on this planet that a town has felt like home, so I’m saving every penny I earn so I can move out as soon as a place comes up that I can afford. Besides, the owner of this bungalow probably has dozens like this on his portfolio. I keep it tidy and looked after. The lawn is mowed, and I water all the foliage and plants outside. I even planted an herb garden. So, if you think about it, I’m doing him a favour by borrowing this place, otherwise he could end up with a real squatter. And what the law doesn’t find out about, hopefully won’t get me into trouble.

I put all thoughts of jail to the back of my mind and luxuriate in the water, inhaling the steam into my lungs until I feel purged of beer and liquor fumes. I’m really going to be screwed when the utility company eventually turns off the water supply. Carrying water drums on my bike is going to be impossible. Still, that’s a worry for another day.

I pick up the novel that’s infinitely steamier than my current non-existent love life, and get immediately drawn into the world of another sexy billionaire with a penchant for spanking innocent yet curious-minded females into submission. When I get past the good part, I put down the book and let my idle fingers wander until my chest is heaving and my spine ripples like a rocket has been let off inside of me.

Then I let out a satisfied sigh and stand to get out of the tub. It was a busy night at the bar, and so I can’t wait to fall into bed, blissfully aware that I always sleep so much better after an orgasm.

It’s not until I realise that I left my towel over by the basin that I notice the intruder standing in the open doorway of the bathroom, his mountainous frame backlit by the orange glow in the fireplace behind him. His mouth is wide open as he takes in my naked frame.

I’m disturbed that my first thought is how handsome he is, swiftly followed by the indecision of whether I should run or scream for help. Thankfully my instinctive fight mechanism takes over and my hands cover my essentials and I release a visceral shriek for him to back off.

Chapter 2

Dan

The woman standing naked in my bathtub shrieks. She’s all perky breasts and slender angles as her arms flail out in shock at my presence. I should look away, but I’m in shock too. The room is all steamed up and smells like some kind of luxury spa and fuck me if her body doesn’t look edible in the way it’s lit up by the candlelight. And man, she has a great set of tits.

I close my mouth and drag my eyes away from her perfect chest. She’s got more than a few tattoos. One running up her thigh, flowers, entwined by thorns. She’s continued the theme on the inside of her slender arm. I’ve never really thought about tattoos being sexy, but on her they look hot as fuck. I’m perusing her body, taking it all in, but probably only a second has passed before I drag my eyes away from her tight little body and focus on her face. She’s got a cute little nose ring on her upturned tip. Her hair is wild and blonde, tied up on top of her head and her face flustered like she spent the night coming apart. The notion causes my dick to twitch uncomfortably from inside my jeans.

Get out or I’ll call the police! she yells, and a bottle of shampoo hits the doorframe beside my head. I’m a black belt in ninja. I’m warning you, you decided to burgle the wrong house tonight, mister. She’s flailing another bottle around in her hands like a weapon. I’m guessing it’s conditioner. Get out! she screams again and this time I follow her command, taking a step back and grabbing the door handle ready to give this woman a moment of privacy.

But before I have time to fully leave the room, she fires another missile.

Shit, that one hit me! I hiss as the bottle bounces right off my temple.  I glare at her before I close the door.

Damn that hurt. I massage my head lightly with the tips of my finger and draw in a deep breath.

It was supposed to hit you. I hope it hurt. Now, get out of my house before I get my gun!

With the door closed and forming a barrier to her onslaught and her nakedness, I’m able to think much more clearly.

You’re going to get your gun? I repeat mockingly and draw on my original anger. This is my house! What the hell are you doing in my bathtub? My voice is deep and booming with authority as I remember why I should be the one so damned angry. She’s squatting in my house.

She tugs the door open and I see that she’s wrapped a towel around herself and tucked