Lucky Charm

Lucky Charm BAD FOR ME Lindsey Hart CONTENTS CONTENTS COPYRIGHT CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 EPILOGUE AUTHOR’S NOTE COPYRIGHT All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the publisher. While all attempts and efforts have been made to verify the information held within this publication, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or opposing interpretations of the content herein. The book is for entertainment purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author alone and should not be taken as expert instruction or commands. Copyright © Passion House Publishing Ltd 2023 All rights reserved. Edits by Charmaine Tan. Cover design by Cosmic Letterz. Need to get in touch with the author? Email: [email protected] Facebook: facebook.com/groups/lindseyhartromance CHAPTER 1 Cass “Please, Ayana? I don’t have to rub him for luck or anything. Just being in his presence would be enough. And food! I think food has something to do with it. Every single time, there’s been eating involved.” “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Ayana huffs. “Rubbing. That just sounds wrong.” “No rubbing involved. Cross my heart—well, I’m going to leave it that because, knowing my luck, I should just cut that off right there.” Ayana’s my bestie, the proud daughter of a dad who is scary as all get out because he’s the prez of a biker club, and she takes shit from no one but me. As her sister from a different mister since high school, I guess I’m entitled to a few strange requests. Ayana’s boyfriend, Ransom, who is big, tattooed, and scarred in the face from a childhood mishap with a spork, of all things—yes, for real—is almost as scary as her dad. Until you get to know him, that is. Both of them. Or, if you’re Ayana, you find out he’s all teddy bear beneath his gruff exterior, soft as butter, and willing to do anything for her and their baby girl, Maya. The most beautiful little girl in the world is currently with the object of our conversation, her deliciously gorgeous, sandy-haired, jacked, and stacked uncle, Lennox, who has a beard to beat both Vikings and Santa. “My brother is bad news. Bearded bad news.” Ransom wiggles his hips and bends lower, a driver in hand. He’s recently found golf to be quite therapeutic, and because Ayana loves him, she’s willing to do just about anything, even golfing. Because I need to get in touch with Lennox, I’m also here with a set of rented clubs, about to do my very worst to this par 3. Think major grass divots, errant golf balls, and perhaps even flying clubs. Yeah, and when I say worst, I mean worst. I’m a terrible golfer at best, and by terrible, I mean it’s a lucky thing I haven’t killed someone yet or broken my own leg. “You love your brother,” I protest. “I might,” Ransom agrees. “But this is also the same person who, before I met Ayana, told people that my biggest goal in life was to go as a puckered butthole for Halloween.” “As opposed to a non-puckered butthole?” Ayana covers her mouth and laughs. I try very hard not to, but it takes sucking my whole bottom lip into my mouth and biting it to keep myself focused. I need to stay focused—both on my quest and on what’s happening on the field. I mean on the green. I’ve golfed all of once in my life, and that was during high school. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. As per usual, I was involved in a bit of a disaster. I swear, I didn’t mean to let that club go. But go it did, and it smacked our gym teacher right in the face. He ended up having to go to the hospital for stitches, and there was so much blood that one girl in the class passed out, and another barfed. Where I’m concerned, that’s pretty much just par for the course. Ha. Oh god, that’s too good right now. Look at me go. I’ve never, ever, EVER met anyone as unlucky as I am. I have the kind of luck that is like a badly held-in fart. The kind of fart where you just can’t hold it anymore, but you’re in a crowded room, so you hope to let it go silently and that it will have zero smell, and no one will notice. But of course, your butt cheeks won’t angle right, so it comes out as a ripper, and it’s a real room clearer, to the point where gagging is a sure thing. That hasn’t actually happened to me, though. I’m just trying to make an illustrative point. Ransom studies the ball carefully, adjusts his stance, swings, and sends the ball flying in a straight arc down the way from us and toward the flag deal at the end. I know enough about golf to realize that’s our objective. Ayana brushes her thick black mane of hair over her shoulder and claps wildly. “Nice shot, my love.” He turns and winks at her, making the scar that bisects his face become all puckered up, and I try very hard not to think about puckered buttholes. Ransom’s face looks nothing at all like that, though. He’s actually quite handsome, and he’s a truly good person besides. It’s just the