Flirting with the Stranger: A Reverse Age Gap Romantic Comedy (Harbor Highlands Series)

FLIRTING WITH THE STRANGER A REVERSE AGE GAP ROMANTIC COMEDY HARBOR HIGHLANDS SERIES GIA STEVENS Flirting with the Stranger: A Reverse Age Gap Romantic Comedy by Gia Stevens www.authorgiastevens.com Published by: Gia Stevens Copyright: Flirting with the Stranger: A Reverse Age Gap Romantic Comedy by Gia Stevens © 2023 Gia Stevens E-Book Edition ISBN: 978-1-958286-06-7 All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. To Channing Tatum It was such a chore watching you in Magic Mike… With the dancing. The grinding. The thrusting. I think you really owe me. While this story is a romantic comedy there may be situations that are triggering to some. For a list of those triggers please visit my website and scroll to the bottom of the page. https://authorgiastevens.com/flirting-with-the-stranger/ CONTENTS 1. Fancied The Fuck Up 2. Fleet Of Strippers 3. Stripping to Boy Bands 4. Stripper Fantasy 5. Such a Casanova 6. Night of Firsts 7. Fake Stripper 8. One Month Later 9. The Cougar Life 10. Lick Something Else 11. Lick Your Frosting 12. Cupcake Vixen 13. Penis Cupcakes 14. Watching You Sleep 15. You’re One of Us 16. The Non-Date Date 17. You’re Jealous 18. Surprise Run In 19. Bartender Therapy 20. Exes and Ohs 21. The Elephant in the Van 22. I Wish I Was There 23. FaceTime Sexy Times 24. Is It Mine? 25. Not Part Of The Plan 26. It’s Never Fine 27. The Sweet Spot 2.0 28. Worst Case Scenarios 29. The Edmond FIZZgerald Epilogue Acknowledgments Also by Gia Stevens About the Author ONE FANCIED THE FUCK UP Hollyn With a steady hand, I pipe Bitch on the top layer of the light brown cake, smiling with every loop of the script letters. Once I’m finished, I step back with a hand on my hip and admire my handiwork. The script writing is some of the best I’ve ever done. I purse my lips together and exhale a sigh. With an icing spatula, I scoop up a dollop of frosting and smear it over the top. Too bad I have to cover it up. If you ask me, it would look better if it wasn’t. Nothing is worse than spending your entire afternoon decorating a wedding cake for the one person who’s spent most of their life bragging about how much better their life is. Our parents have been friends since we were kids, so we grew up together. As kids, it was fun, until we became teenagers, and she’d constantly remind me and my twin sister, Parisa, of all the things she had that we didn’t. But I always took the high road. So, the day she came into my bakery and the first thing she did was blatantly glance down at my empty left hand, I knew I was going to hate what came out of her mouth next. Sure enough, a little part of me died inside when she asked me to design her wedding cake. Five years ago, I was supposed to be the one walking down the aisle, but instead, I spent the night sitting on a hotel bathroom floor with a bottle of champagne. And when you’re wallowing in your own self-pity, one bottle is never enough. With a pair of rubber tipped tweezers, I delicately place the edible pearls in a swooping pattern around the center layer of the three-tier cake. Luckily, I don’t have to attend the actual wedding. Thank you, girls' weekend. All I need to do is finish the pearl work and Della, the owner of The Sweet Spot, will finish the flowers before taking the cake to the reception. The music blaring in my earbuds dims as an incoming call comes through my phone. Glancing down, Olivia’s name flashes on the screen. I answer, putting her on speakerphone, but before I can even get a word out, Olivia’s voice booms through the speaker. “Girl, you better be at home, showered, bags packed, and fancied the fuck up.” “Well, not quite.” I glance down at my black yoga pants with smears of buttercream frosting and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. “But good news is my bag is packed. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll be ready.” Olivia’s been friends with Parisa since they started working together at The Blue Stone Group. In turn, she’s become one of my friends as well. “A couple hours!?” Olivia screeches. “I’ll give you an hour. If you’re not home, I’m coming to the bakery and kidnapping your ass.” “Okay. Got it. See you then.” I’m only half listening as I continue placing pearls on the cake. “I’m serious. Sixty minutes!” Olivia's voice echoes through the kitchen before I press end. Because of the two extra hours I put in today, I got further than I was expecting. Now, Della will have less work tomorrow. I lift the cake and carry it to the commercial refrigerator and place it next to the other two finished tiers. As soon as I finish cleaning up the kitchen, I lock up and make my way home. Once I walk through the door, I dump my purse on the couch and hustle upstairs to take the fastest shower imaginable. When I’m done, I throw on a sequin mini-dress and apply a light coat of make-up. Not five minutes later, a black stretch limo pulls up to the curb in front of my townhouse. The instant I close the front door, the driver is already waiting next to the wide open car door. Olivia pokes her head out. “Hurry, bitch! We have drinks to drink and some celebrating to do.” “I’m coming! I’m