Now it’s time to find out what makes this time special for our next favorite author….
In my family, we have several holiday traditions, from opening one present on Christmas Eve to always getting an orange in our stocking (I can’t recall why—you’d have to ask my mom). But honestly, my favorite tradition and one that seems to put the cherry on top of the holiday season, isn’t too unusual: watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” For the last twenty-five years, I don’t think I’ve had a single holiday season pass by without sitting down with my some or all of my family and watching that particular movie. No matter how many times we’ve all seen it, someone always laughs so hard he or she cries—especially when that tree busts through all the windows in the house—and we all seem to discover some line that we didn’t remember from the year before. It’s always a night filled with laughter and togetherness—and a little bit of ribald humor. Happy holidays to you and yours!
I’ve got a big dick and an even bigger bank account. That’s pretty much where my bio ends. Honestly, I don’t need to say anything else. I’ve just sold 99% of women on going home with me.
Do I sound like an asshole to you?
That’s because I am.
And guess what? It works for me just fine.
Or at least it did.
Until I met her.
Books talk about sparks flying. Fuck that shit. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm.
Only one problem.
She didn’t leave her name or number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest fucking night of my life. Now I’ve had a taste of unicorn pussy—the sweetest, rarest of all pussy—and I need it again.
So what’s an asshole to do?
I took this problem to the street. A missed connection gone viral.
And when I find her? I’m keeping her.
COUNTRY STAR JC HUGHES CAUGHT BETWEEN A COCK AND A HARD PLACE
How is he going to explain this one away to girlfriend Holly Wix and his fans?
“That two-timin’ son of a . . .”
I hiss under my breath as I stare at the headline—and the compromising picture accompanying it—splashed in vivid color across the front page of the gossip rag displayed prominently in the checkout line at my supermarket. For the second time in two months, it’s a picture of my “boyfriend” locked in an unmistakably passionate embrace with another woman, except this time she’s wearing a giant black strap-on.
The edges of the paper crumple in my sweaty grip, and I fight the urge to tear it to shreds, along with every copy sitting on the rack in front of me.
He’s going to destroy my career before it even has a chance to become a reality.
One year, they said. One year in this joke of a “relationship” and I’d earn my stripes, be all set in the world of country music. Judge me all you want for agreeing, but when your brand-new record label puts something like that in the contract that will jet you out of the backwoods town you’re dying to escape, you don’t ask questions. You sign on the dotted line.
But reality is a cold slap in the face, and some days it hits you when you’re standing in line at the grocery store. What happens when they finally catch JC with a guy? His habit of swinging both ways, but preferring men to women, is about to become the worst-kept secret in Nashville.
I’m Holly Wix, winner of a make-me-a-star TV show, and handpicked by the label to buoy JC’s once-impressive but now flagging career. It didn’t seem like a big deal when they slipped it into my contract in the beginning. What starry-eyed girl wouldn’t be thrilled to have her name linked to a country star?
Instead of the one-way ticket to stardom I naively expected, I’m becoming the butt of every industry joke faster than the guys back home can spend their paycheck on twelve-packs and scratch-offs. But I’ve got one shot at keeping this dream career alive, and honestly, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save it. So this situation with JC needs to get settled before things spiral further out of control.