Operation One Night Stand

Book 1: Operation

by Christine Hughes

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

IT'S TIME TO CHANGE HER SEXUAL KARMA Caroline Frost had it all-until her boyfriend banged the superskank intern, and poof! Caroline's happy little bubble disappeared. Now it's been six weeks of weeping, a mountain of ice cream, and a permanent buttprint on the couch. Enough is enough. She and her ladybits need an intervention-now. Enter Operation: One Night Stand: Find a man who is hotness personified and have some much-needed sexy time. The only problem is that Caroline is torn between a flirtatious, well-built guy and the ridiculously hot bartender serving her shots. This was supposed to be all fun and no games, but like the perfect scotch on the rocks, no good fling finishes without a twist . . . "A sexy and witty read. Christine Hughes had me laughing and fanning myself simultaneously." --Sawyer Bennet, New York Times bestselling author "OPERATION ONE NIGHT STAND is a fun, seriously hot story about a woman's journey through life. I liked the pacing of this book and never thought it lagged. There is a good balance of romance, sexiness, and the trials of everyday life. I look forward to the next book in this Operation series by Christine Hughes to see what's in store for Caroline's friends." -- Fresh Fiction

Release date: June 2, 2015

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 308

Sample

Chapter One

I had commandeered the sofa. The beautiful, butter-yellow sofa Sarah had purchased when she first moved to her amazingly spacious two-bedroom apartment almost three years ago now probably had a permanent imprint of my ass. The cushions had become a wasteland overflowing with wads of snotty tissues, and creamy brown stains from my new, aptly named addiction—Pint of Tears—smeared the arm. My trusty sidekick, Mr. Bibbles, a childhood stuffed thing—I wasn’t sure anymore if he ever really was a bear—lay oddly contorted at my side.


For five years, Steven and I dated. Lived together. Worked together. Dreamed together. That was before it all went to shit. That was before I found him in my bed with Betsy the Intern. That was before he figured it was okay to forget about the fact that he was my fiancé. That was before I found myself homeless, refusing to ask my parents for help. I showed up with nothing but a suitcase full of crap—and Mr. Bibbles—at Sarah’s door. I didn’t even have to ask. Within twenty-four hours, my room was decorated, my bed was made, and I was moved in.


For the past six weeks, I’d lived with Sarah. My best friend, my trusty confidant, and, probably, the only person on earth who’d have put up with my shit for as long as she has. Besides the other third of our trio, Mel. My nightly crying fits, my refusal to leave the house for anything other than work, and my newly minted status as Ice Cream Dreams’s most valuable customer wore on my friends.

Every day on the way home from work, before I planted my growing ass on the once beautiful sofa and cried, I stopped at a tiny little ice cream shop called Ice Cream Dreams. They pride themselves on making any ice cream concoction to fit any mood. The first day I walked in, the girl behind the counter took one look at me and Pint of Tears was born. Chocolate on chocolate mixed with chocolate, gummy bears, marshmallow, and peanut butter. It became their best-selling ice cream flavor of the fall. Probably because of me.

Me and my ever-growing, ice-cream-eating, tear-shedding, sofa-arm-smearing ass.

I would silently curse Sarah as she invited me out every Friday. Every Saturday. I would inwardly cringe at the ten pounds I’d gained—while simultaneously thanking my speedy metabolism that it wasn’t more—as I watched from my perch on her butter-yellow sofa while she left for the gym with yoga mat in hand.

All I needed was a spoon, a pint, and a remote control.

My new life.

Sucked.

I’d taken to sitting on the couch and watching every single depressing break-up movie ever filmed. Multiple times. From black-and-whites, animated, Ryan Gosling, Jack and Rose to addictions, affairs, Ryan Gosling, Jack and Rose. Oh, and by the way, Rose, I call bullshit. Jack would have pulled your ass from the frozen waters of the Atlantic and shared some space on that door or whatever the hell you were floating on. Then again, maybe you knew something we didn’t. Maybe he deserved an icy, watery grave. Maybe you were on to something. Men.

Fuck ’em.

Sideways.

One particular Friday night, I was in the middle of another round of “Which Movie Is More Depressing?” (When a Man Loves a Woman was winning, by the way) when I heard Sarah’s key in the lock. At the time, I wasn’t fazed. We’d gotten into a routine. She’d come home from her date or the gym or dinner out with friends, ask me how I was, ask me if I needed anything, and, when I said no, she’d say good night and go to bed. Once in a while she’d sit on the couch with me, eat out of her own pint of Support System (yeah, another flavor), and watch me as I worked on my ugly crying face. I was pretty sure it was the ugliest crying face ever. I was giving that actress from Homeland a run for her ugly crying face money. Which is weird, because without the ugly crying face, she’s beautiful. She never would have let Jack sink to the icy depths.


Then again, better to sink than live with the daily heartbreak of a roaming dick.

Instead, Sarah walked in with backup. Melody stormed into the room, ripped off my blanket, and threw Mr. Bibbles across the room. Sarah calmly walked over, grabbed my ice cream and spoon, and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“What the hell?” I shrank into the sofa.

“This is an intervention.”

“Mel, you threw my bear!”

“Screw your bear, Caroline. Enough is enough. So Steven cheated on you. That doesn’t mean you have to become an ice cream swilling hermit! What the hell happened to you?”

“You are a hot mess, doll face,” Sarah quipped as she pulled a new pack of baby wipes from her purse and began wiping the chocolate off my face. Maybe I was.

“I’ll see your hot mess and raise you a walking disaster. At least that’s what she’ll be if this shit keeps up.”

“Leave me alone. And don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” I tried to retreat as far into the corner of the sofa as I could. Unfortunately, the more I squished in, the more tissues squished out.

Sarah hung up her coat before sitting on the coffee table across from me. “Sweetie, we know you’re hurting. But it’s time to move on. You’re still working with him, you’re reminded every day of what happened. No wonder you’re stuck. You need to get up, get out, and find a new job. Move past this.”

“How am I supposed to move past anything? I see Steven every single day. It’s not like I can magically unsee him.” I fingered the engagement ring I wore around my neck as fresh tears spilled over. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Unfortunately, Steven still worked at the law firm, so I couldn’t escape him. Who was I kidding? His daddy was the law firm.


“I know it’s hard. I can’t imagine having to see the two of them day after day,” Sarah said, reminding me that Betsy and her welcoming vagina worked there, too.

“Every day I walk in and try to keep my head high but I keep running into her stink eye. She won’t stop fucking staring at me.” Sarah dodged my wild hand gestures. “Like I’m the one who ruined her life by walking in on them.” Melody held the box of tissues and I yanked a bunch out and wiped my face. “Not to mention that everyone knows Steven and I broke up. Like anyone in the office needed anything else to gossip about.”


“Fuck them. They’re a bunch of middle-aged leeches who aren’t happy unless someone else in unhappy. And fuck her. Punch her in the face,” Melody suggested. “She’s just mad she can’t fuck the boss’s son anymore.”

“Right. I know they’re still boning like they’re the last two people on earth.” I blew my nose. “Probably still doing it in the bed Steven and I bought when we moved in together.” I could no longer breathe through my nose. “I bet they have sex in the office, too.”

Fuck them both.

“I am sure they are not having sex in the office.” Sarah laughed as Melody pursed her lips and checked out her fingernails.

“You think they’re having sex in the office?” I asked her.

“Of course she doesn’t. Right Mel?” Mel didn’t answer, so Sarah threw a pillow at her. “Right?”

“I don’t think it matters if they are still boning.”

“Of course it matters! He begs for my forgiveness every single day. ‘Oh, Caroline, forgive me.’ ‘I love you so much.’ ‘She means nothing.’” It made my skin crawl. “Bahhh. I want him to shut up. Just shut up!”

“Well, that’s something,” Melody piped up.

“What?” I asked.

“Mad. Mad is better than what you’ve been doing.”

“And what have I been doing, Melody? I mean besides mourning the loss of a five-year relationship with my fiancé who cheated on me? Besides walking into a work every day and having people actually stop talking the second I come within earshot? Turning it over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I did wrong when I know Steven made the decision to cheat, not me?” I stood and threw my tissues. “How should I be dealing with it, Mel? Tell me. I’d love to take advice from a bed hopper who wouldn’t know a relationship if it kicked her in the twat.” Immediately my hands flew to my mouth.


“Nice.” Melody smirked and Sarah gasped.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. I don’t know what—”

“Stop. It’s fine. I kind of like the sass.” Mel winked. “Glad to see you fired up over something other than ice cream and Leonardo DiCaprio’s icy death.”

“Rose should have made room,” I mumbled.

“Holy shit. Enough. I will cancel cable if you don’t stop.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.”

“Look, don’t be sorry. Be brave. Be strong. Be happy. Be amazing. Don’t be sorry.” Melody handed me another tissue.

“Exactly. You need to get up, get out, and meet some people.”

“People.” Melody waved Sarah off. “Pssh. She means men. You need to meet some men. You need to get your lady parts ready”—Mel grabbed her crotch—“and give them some love.”

“My lady parts are fine the way they are.”

“Shriveled up?”

“They are not shriveled up.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?”

“What does that matter?”

“The fact that you answered my question with that question tells me ‘too long.’ You need to get out and meet someone.”

I dropped my head between my knees. “What if I can’t? What if no one else wants me?”

Sarah dropped onto the couch next to me and rubbed my back while Melody headed toward the back of the apartment. In that moment I knew I had hit rock bottom and there was nowhere for me to go but up. But up to where? What or who would be waiting for me at the top of whatever?

The answers were sitting next to me rubbing my back and walking back into the living room, bathroom garbage can in hand.

“Look,” Melody began as she placed the garbage can on the coffee table and sat next to it, “you’re beautiful, talented, and smart. Who wouldn’t want you? I mean, shit, you’re only twenty-eight years old and the world is your oyster! You’ve had, what? Two, maybe three, boyfriends in your life? How many one night stands? How many nights of just fun? How many nights that were all about you and what you want? Now isn’t the time to wonder who will want you, now is the time to take what you want.”

“I’ve never had a one night stand.” I crinkled my nose in mock disgust to mask the embarrassing lack of experience in that department. In truth, it had always been something I was too nervous to do, something other people did. I was a “relationship girl.” Always with a boyfriend.

“Now is the time for you to live your life. Start over.”

“With a one night stand?”

“Sure. Why not?” Sarah asked.

“That’s just not what I do.” I shook my head.

“You need to do something. Tell Steven to fuck off. Put the damn ring away.” I clutched it and Sarah rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean get rid of it—”

“I say sell it,” Melody added.

“What I mean is take it off, put it away. Kick up your heels. Step out of the shadow Steven kept you in. Christ, Care.” Sarah threw her arms up in frustration. “I need wine. Anyone else need wine?”

“You need to ask?” Mel laughed.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I can’t just go out and date someone. I can’t just go and talk to strange men. That’s not me. I’ve slept with exactly two people and both were boyfriends.”

“We are not saying you have to go bang every guy you meet but what’s wrong with a one night stand?”

“Steven said—”

“What the fuck?” Melody grabbed her hair. “Who the fuck cares what Steven said, Care? Really? I don’t mean to be a bitch here but, seriously, I am pretty sure you need to stop with the Steven references. He’s lucky I didn’t castrate his cheating ass.”

“But—”

“But what?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m a slut.”

Melody laughed. “I had a one night stand last weekend. Does that make me a slut?” Melody stared at me.

“That’s not really a good example, Mel.” Sarah handed her a glass of red before handing me mine. “You had a one night stand the weekend before that, too.”

“And the weekend before that,” I added.

Melody opened her mouth and closed it quickly before shaking her head and taking a large swallow of wine. “Look, my point is that you can.” She stood and plucked the wadded-up snot rags from the sofa and tossed them in the trash. “There comes a time when you need a reality check. Realize this truth: you’ll never be good enough for some people. Say it over and over again until it sinks into your sad little skull.” I ducked away when she rapped her knuckles on my head. “And when you realize that, ask yourself whether it’s your problem or theirs.”

The harsh bitch of reality coldcocked me across the heart. I wasn’t ready to realize anything. Fresh tears spilled down my face. “Mel, I just want to move on. I want all this past me.”

“Of course you do. And we’ll help you. Come on, get up.” Melody put down her glass and grabbed my arm, yanking me out of my seat. I looked back longingly at my spot before turning to face her.

“Drink the wine.”

I took a sip.

“No. Drink the whole thing.”

I looked to Sarah and she nodded. I brought the overpoured glass to my mouth and drank. I drank and drank until the glass was empty and Sarah took the glass from my hand.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks and brushing the hair out of my eyes, Melody continued, “We have a plan.”

“Yes. We’ve got it all figured out.” Sarah smirked as they walked me down the hall.

That plan began with a very invasive cold shower and a loofah, quite a bit of complaining on my part, and fresh pajamas. When I was finally cleansed of tears, snot, and sticky trails of ice cream, the girls sat me on the couch—Mr. Bibbles was nowhere to be found—handed me another glass of wine, and laid out their plan. I sat and listened. And drank. And tried to understand. All I ended up doing was drinking more.

“You want me to what?” I reached forward and tried to pour the empty bottle into my glass. Melody hopped up and ran to the kitchen. I held my finger to my lips until my glass was filled. I needed the silence to process this plan.

“We’ll go to a bar—” Sarah began.

“Someplace new,” Melody interrupted.

“Yes. And we’ll scan the crowd. Look for someone take-home worthy. When you find him, nominate him as the target.”

“And do what again?”

“Flirt. Pick him up. Do what you need to do.” Sarah was way too into this.

“So what you’re saying is, I walk into a bar, point at a hot guy, and declare that I am bringing him home.”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I just get his number?”

“Because this is Operation One Night Stand, not Operation Get His Number.”

“What if I can’t find anyone take-home worthy?”

“Then you don’t. That’s the point. There is no timeline.”

“Right. We just go out and watch you troll for the one.”

“I’m supposed to marry ‘the one.’”

“Not this one.” Melody high-fived Sarah.

I rolled my eyes, stood, and paced the room. “Let’s leave that alone for a bit. Tell me about the plan. There has to be more to this plan than me getting it on with a hottie stranger guy.” I needed the subject to change, even if only for a minute. I wasn’t that girl. I didn’t sleep around. But, holy hell, I really wanted to be.

“Right. More about the plan.” Sarah refilled her glass before handing Mel the bottle. “We need to rip this Band-Aid off. We need to get free and clear of all this”—she waved her arms around, sloshing the red liquid onto the hardwood—“shit.”


“Shit.” I nodded my head and continued to pace. “Remove the shit.” I was pretty sure I needed more wine. “Pour me.” I held out my glass and Melody poured.

“Are you ready to hear this part?”

“Rip off the Band-Aid.” It was my turn to slosh.

“You need to”—Sarah paused—“why don’t you sit down for this?”

“Sit down?” I pointed to the couch.

“Yeah. That would be good.” Melody agreed. “Drink.”

The three of us drank deeply before Sarah continued.

“Youneedtoquityourjob.”

“I’m sorry—what? It sounded like you said I need to quit my job.” I laughed and took a sip.

When neither one of them corrected me and, instead, averted their eyes and busied themselves with refilling their wineglasses, I nearly choked.

“You can’t be serious? I can’t quit my job! How would I pay for anything? How the hell would I make rent, Sarah? You gonna foot the bill on your teacher’s salary?”

“Wait, wait. Settle your tits, doll,” Melody reasoned. “Are you really going to subject yourself to working alongside Steven and his fuck toy? Around all those miserable people? When was the last time you didn’t dread going to work? All the Steven business aside, when?”

“That isn’t the point.”

“It is the point. There is no way you are going to get past this unless you make a clean break,” Sarah said.

“How am I going to find a new job?”

“The same way everyone else finds a new job. You look for one. You use your network. Mel and I will help you, and I am sure your parents will help you, until you get on your feet.”

“My mom never liked Steven,” I mumbled and chewed on a fingernail.

“Neither did I,” Melody blurted. “What? I thought we were being honest.”

“We are.” Sarah pointed between herself and Melody. “We need Caroline to be honest.”

“Me? About what?”

“What you want. Do you want to stay in Steven’s shadow? Do you want to stare at Betsy the Intern all day long? Do you want to work someplace that chews away everything great about you until you become an empty shell? Or do you want to take life by the balls and live a little?”

“It’s a lot to take in so fast.”

“So fast? You’ve become part of the decor, darling. Get your sweet ass off my couch before I remove you from it myself.” Sarah smiled.

“And you think I need to have sex with a stranger?”

“I think you’re looking too much into it.”

“I don’t know. I need time to think.”

And I did think. And partake in numerous talks about the ins and outs of dating and one night stands—I mean, I had been out of the game for five years. We took a trip the next day to a hair salon and Fred Burke’s, a high-end boutique store, and even squeezed in some much needed fat burning with spin class on Sunday. In between all of it, my ice cream was thrown out, Ice Cream Dreams was asked not to sell my ice cream to me anymore, and my résumé and cover letters were revamped. All I needed to do was rip off the Band-Aid. Easier said than done.

Chapter Two

After a short train ride from New Jersey to New York, I walked into work the following Monday completely unsure about what I was going to do.


I managed to avoid both Steven and Betsy for most of the morning. Mostly because I hid from them. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Even after a long phone conversation with my dad I didn’t feel any better and my dad always made me feel better; the only advice he had for me was to make a list of all the reasons I should stay at my job and a list of the reasons I should leave. It was good advice but I’d been at work for two hours and only succeeded in drawing a line down the middle of a piece of paper. I hadn’t even started on the files sitting on my desk nor had I opened one e-mail.

I sh. . .