Her Trick His Treat: Cherry On Top Tales, #5

By C.D. Gorri

She wants one extraordinary night. He wants forever.

 

Camryn Balducci is tired of being the nerdy girl everyone ignores. Well, this Halloween she is going to put a stop to all those pesky rumors she was nothing but a stick in the mud.

 

Every year her cousin invites her to the Whiskey Bar's costume party for All Hallow's Eve. This year, instead of staying home and reading her favorite paranormal romance series, Camryn is going to let her hair down and actually attend.

 

Dressing up isn't her strong suit, but this is a costume party, and no one will know behind the fishnet stockings and scandalous bustier that Camryn is a shy little virgin at heart.

 

Tommy O'Hare is in the Garden State visiting his old college pals just in time to kick off this year's Halloween Bash. When he meets a vixen in all black, he just has to have her.

 

Only this one night stand turns into something more when he can't get the woman out of his mind. The gorgeous stranger tricked him into falling in love! Now he just has to find her and tell her.

 

Will her trick become his treat permanently? Find out in this steamy Halloween tale where love is just the cherry on top!

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.D. Gorri
• Release date: Oct 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227931962

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE-CAMRYN

Irolled my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, praying for patience to a God I hadn’t tried talking to in ages.

It was one of those old, popcorn-textured ceilings.

Stagnant.

Outdated.

A reminder of times best forgotten.

It stared back. Like it was mocking me. Each grotesque bump was a reminder of how out of touch I was with the world beyond my tiny apartment.

Come on, cuz. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Jan begged, and I held the phone away from my ear.

Good grief! She was so loud. I almost dropped the dang thing.

Jan still had that same annoying whine she used to use when she was a kid and wasn’t getting her way.

She was older than me, but not by much. Still, I was always the little cousin. It got annoying at times, with her always mothering me. I missed being around her. But this just had to stop.

It’s just I don’t do bars, Jan. You know this, I told her for the tenth time.

It was downright exasperating, having someone tell me what I liked or needed. I was so done with people who thought they knew me better than I knew myself.

Wasn’t that why I left my old life?

To start here anew. To meet people. Make friends. Maybe find someone special.

Someone who might appreciate me for me.

Someone who was willing to look past my fluffy exterior and see the gem within.

Ugh. I hated it when I got morose. But Alexander, the last man I dated, had done a number on my self-esteem.

I was shy at the best of times, but he seemed to like me well enough to ask me out. Like an idiot, I took his criticisms as the gentle suggestions he told me they were.

But it was no good.

No matter how many miles I trekked on the elliptical my ass wasn’t going anywhere.

In fact, I was pretty sure working out had only toned and plumped the damn thing. I happened to like the machine though, and now, I keep one in my office.

It was great for when I was stuck on an idea and needed to think.

But I wasn’t getting any skinnier. I liked food too much for that and after weeks of Alexander’s disappointed sighs, I told him goodbye.

There was nothing keeping me where I was, so I made an even bigger change. I moved back to my roots. Back to the Garden State.

But it’s a party! Besides, Cam, you haven’t hung out with me or even met David yet, and you still haven’t come by the shop since you moved back.

Jan’s voice was a high-pitched plea. I wanted to argue, to beg off, but she wasn’t wrong.

I groaned and looked around my tidy new apartment. Everything had its place. But I had yet to venture out.

What are you going to do at home? Watch a movie? Work? Come on, she cajoled.

Jan knew my tastes well enough, but she had no way of knowing my entertainment center was the very first thing I set up in my new place.

There were two entire shelves for my books arranged by genre. I was currently in my spooky book era. It being Halloween and all, who could blame me?

I was also a fan of those godawful B horror movies from the 1960s all the way through the 90s. It was all over the top gruesome, too much fake blood crap with characters who were too stupid to live.

The kind of movies that would never win an Oscar but had more Rotten Tomatoes than those sparkly vampire movies.

Fun stuff.

Gory.

Campy.

You named it, I loved it. So yeah, promptly displayed on the top row of the ridiculously large entertainment center I owned were rows and rows of DVDs of the kind of movies most people never admitted to watching.

I didn’t care. Who the heck was going to see them? No one came to my apartment. I mean, I hadn’t invited anyone over, and likely wouldn’t.

I wasn’t a hermit. Not exactly. Just a thirty year old virgin with too many scruples and a tendency to overthink every damn thing before I did it. Which usually led to me doing nothing at all.

Shit.

Please, Camryn, just come out tonight. I haven’t seen you in forever!

I wanted to argue, to beg off. But Jan wasn’t wrong.

I moved back to New Jersey a few weeks ago after living in Florida for the past eight years, ever since I graduated from college. But she was right. I’d made no move to see her, or anyone, for that matter.

Jan and her folks were the only family I had left. I’d made no efforts beyond coming back to the Garden State to reconnect with anyone from my past.

Sure, we’d kept in touch over the years with her shared mega list of fictional hotties—BBILF: Book Boyfriends I’d Like to Fuck.

This list was a jewel. Filled with fictional men and our pros and cons, some I’d never heard of until Jan or one of the others gushed about them.

Our shared passion for reading kept us connected over the years after I’d moved away. But now that I was back, being reading buddies simply wasn’t enough.

I craved human connection. Contact with real people was not easy for me, though. Introverted and shy by nature, I’d been profiled as a quiet little nerd girl for so long, it was hard to not fall into that pattern.

I supposed it was true on some accounts. I was a total bibliophile and addicted to the written word. Likely why I had the job I did.

I worked as a freelance editor, formatter, and copy editor for authors, both indie and traditionally published. I’d even landed a gig working with the international bestseller N. Leo and her awesome suspense novels.

Nat was a gem. She and her husband, Bron, were amazing people. But books, well, I liked books better than I did most people.

Books. Were. My. Passion.

And writing, of course.

In fact, I had penned a few naughty little tales and was working on another, all under a pseudonym I had yet to publish. Maybe, someday soon, I would have the guts to bite the bullet.

It was easier said than done. Imagine putting yourself out there in black and white for the entire world to examine and poke fun at?

The idea was horrifying. And yet, there was also another side to that coin.

What if someone read what I wrote and liked it?

What if they enjoyed themselves?

What if I helped someone escape their lives for an hour or two?

The book world was just as cutthroat as any other. I’d been part of enough reader and writer groups to have seen it firsthand. It could be great though, too. And since I chose not to participate in toxic behavior, the few