Synopsis:
A new standalone, laugh-out-loud
romantic comedy by New York Times bestselling author Helena
Hunting.
Cosy Felton is great at her job—she knows
just how to handle the awkwardness that comes with working at an adult toy
store. So when the hottest guy she’s ever seen walks into the shop looking
completely overwhelmed, she’s more than happy to turn on the charm and help him
purchase all of the items on his list.
Griffin Mills is using his business trip in
Las Vegas as a chance to escape the broken pieces of his life in New York City.
The last thing he wants is to be put in charge of buying gag gifts for his
friend’s bachelor party. Despite being totally out of his element, and
mortified by the whole experience, Griffin is pleasantly surprised when he
finds himself attracted to the sales girl that helped him.
As skeptical as Cosy may be of Griffin’s
motivations, there’s something about him that intrigues her. But sometimes what
happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas and when real life gets in the
way, all bets are off. Filled with hilariously awkward situations and enough
sexual chemistry to power Sin City, Making Up is the next
standalone in the Shacking Up world.
EXCERPT:
We’re a couple of minutes away from
my apartment, which also means we’re almost at the end of our date. End-of-date
protocol often means a goodnight kiss.
And I’ve eaten onions. Lots of them.
What the hell was I thinking? I feel around in my shorts pocket, hoping I have
a random stick of gum. I find a tiny square packet and pull it out, along with
an old tissue. I shove that back in my pocket and sigh with relief as I
carefully open the Listerine Pocketpak. There’s one strip left. I pop it in my
mouth, wishing I had water since my mouth is dry and I’m suddenly super
nervous.
Griffin pulls up in front of my
apartment building. I swallow a bunch of times, trying to get the strip to
dissolve on my tongue and glance out the tinted window, seeing it from his
perspective. I don’t live in a bad part of town, but I sure as hell wouldn’t
leave this car sitting out here for any length of time unless I wanted it keyed
or stripped down.
Griffin shifts into park and turns to
me, one hand resting on the back of my seat near the headrest. “I had a great
time, Cosy.”
“Me too, thanks for dinner.” I tried
to fork over my share, but he was quick on the credit card draw.
“It was my pleasure.” He leans in the
tiniest bit, a nonverbal cue that he’s going in for a kiss.
I mirror the movement, giving him the
go ahead. My stomach flutters in anticipation. I exhale slowly through my nose.
Even though the Listerine strip should be doing its job to mask the onions, I
don’t want to ruin the moment by breathing that in his face.
His fingertips skim my jaw, and I
close my eyes. And then his lips brush my cheek. I wait for them to move a
couple of inches to the right, but after what feels like a lot of seconds—and
is probably only a few—I crack a lid.
Griffin is still close, a wry smile
on his lips and a smolder in his eyes.
“Seriously, that’s it? A kiss on the
cheek?”
His smile widens, making his eyes
crinkle at the corners. He’s nothing like the guys I usually end up on dates
with. College boys don’t take things slow. If I were out with one of the guys
from school, I’d be sitting in a beat-up Civic with some stupid music playing,
and he’d be all over me with his tongue halfway down my throat, copping a feel.
“I thought all the onions you ate
were the equivalent to garlic for vampires.” Griffin fingers my hair near my
shoulder. I’d really like him to finger something else. Wait. I mean I’d like
to feel his hands on me. Not in my pants. Okay, maybe I’d like them in my
pants, but not after date number one.
“I wasn’t thinking, and I really like
onions. A lot. In hindsight, it’s not a great date food. I feel kinda dumb. And
I guess at first I wasn’t so sure about you. How was I supposed to know you’d actually
be kind of normalish?”
“Normalish?”
“Well, you drink club soda on
purpose, so you can’t be all there.” I tap his temple.
Griffin circles my wrist with his
fingers and drops his head, lips brushing over my knuckle. “We can’t all be
perfect, now, can we?”
“I suppose not, and perfect is
boring.”
“That it is.” He hums against my skin,
and I feel it through my entire body. “I would like to try that kiss again, if
you’re still interested.”
From MAKING UP.
Copyright © 2019 by Helena Hunting and reprinted with permission from St.
Martin’s Paperbacks.
Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena
Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family
and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging
from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
Buy-Book Link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250253378
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