Hot Mess by Emma Hart
What do you do when the whole world has seen you getting down and dirty in a broom closet?
I, Elle Evans, am on the run.
Not from the fuzz—although that would be more exciting.
No, I’m on the run from the four-year-old private tape that, thanks to my vengeful ex, has probably already ruined my vlogging career.
There’s nothing like the entire world knowing what you look like mid-O.
Creek Keys, Florida, is a million miles away from NYC and the perfect place for me to hide for the rest of summer until I can figure out what I’m going to do.
Something that’s easier said than done since my new landlord’s daughter thinks you’re God’s greatest gift. Even better? Their beach house is right next to the one I’m renting, so there’s no getting away from her—or her hot, British dad.
Who most definitely does not think I’m role model material.
He might be right.
The problem is that neither of us can say no to her.
Or each other.
“Why do I have to shower every single day?”
“Because you get dirty every single day,” he said so automatically I just knew this was a daily conversation they had.
Another sigh, but Ari did as she was told and went upstairs.
“You do that daily, don’t you?” I asked.
“Every single day.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I think she does it now just to do it. It’s not like she doesn’t know she has to shower every day before bed. It’s been a thing for three years.”
I grinned. “You are going to have so much fun with her when she’s in her teen years.”
“You and I have very different definitions of fun,” he said dryly. “I’m not looking forward to that at all. It’s already starting.”
“Ooh, that’s gonna be rough.”
“You could be supportive and give me advice.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what advice to give to a man who has to guide a teenage girl through the most troubled years of her life. Buy noise canceling headphones? Educate yourself on tampons? Invest in something stronger than beer? Find God, because you’re gonna need him?”
“That really wasn’t the support I was going for.” I snorted. “I’m not going to lie to you. Puberty sucks. Girls are the worst. I have no idea how my parents did it with two girls without anyone dying.”
There was a knock at the door, and Theo got up. “Maybe I should have spent more time on dating the last few years. Someone who knows what they’re doing would be helpful.”
“Aunt Elsie,” he said, surprised.
I peered through the doorway into the hall.
“No,” he said immediately.
“Do not call me Theodore.”
I grinned. Theodore. Why hadn’t I assumed that was his full name?
“Then stop interrupting me, you rude child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Then do stop acting like one and let me in.” She shoved past him, letting herself in, and stopped when she saw me. “Elle! My new friend!”
All right, then.
“Hi, Elsie.” I waved. “How are you?”
“I’m just fine. We’re seeing the mayor tomorrow for our weekly protest, and I have a doozy of an article to show him about UFO sightings off the coast of Creek Keys.”
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.
Tell me the last “hot mess” thing you did (or tell me you are perfect so I can be jealous and hate you at the same time).
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