Pay-Per-Heart

PAY-PER-HEART A REVERSE HAREM ROM-COM GRACE MCGINTY Copyright © 2023 by Madeline Young writing as Grace McGinty All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover Art by DAZED Designs. Editing by Aubergine Editing. ALSO BY GRACE MCGINTY Hell’s Redemption Series: The Redeemable/The Unrepentant/The Fallen Damnation MC Duet: Serendipity/Providence The Azar Nazemi Trilogy : Smoke and Smolder/Burn and Blaze/Rage and Ruin Dark River Days Series: Newly Undead In Dark River/Happily Undead In Dark River/Pleasantly Undead in Dark River Black Mountain Mates: Hunting Isla Eden Academy Series: The Lost and the Hunted (Prequel)/Heart of the Hounded (Prequel)/ Rebels and Runaways (Book 1)/Sweethearts and Savages (Book 2) Shadow Bred Series: Manix/Frenzy/Feral/Crave Stand Alone Novels and Novellas: Bright Lights From A Hurricane/The Last Note/ Inside The Maelstrom Part 1 and 2/Sticks and Stone/Pay-Per-Heart Omega Lottery: Tryst In The Dark For the why choose lovers. You can have your wiener and eat it too. CONTENTS 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 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Epilogue About the Author Sticks And Stone 1 BLAKE I stood in front of the empty lot with two wieners in my hand, like this was amateur night on the Hub. You know which Hub. Don’t make me spell it out. There were large chunks of concrete littering the corner block, with pieces of rebar poking up at odd angles like a spider that suddenly died—the victim of a bigger, meaner spider, probably. I really felt for those eight-legged demons from Hell. “You know, it’s not going to suddenly reappear, no matter how long, or how often, you stare at it. You don’t have to come back every day just to check.” I turned to the owner of Heinrich’s Wiener, Schnitzel & Pretzel food truck. Heinrich had been here for my first visit to this empty lot, when I’d had nothing but two big suitcases and even bigger dreams. He’d watched on with his sparkling blue eyes as I sank to the ground and cried like a baby, then he’d given me a soft pretzel. It had been hot and salty, just like my tears. We’d bonded after that, Heinrich and I. At least, I thought we had. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Hennie?” I asked with a huff, walking back over to the light blue outdoor setting he set out in the shade of his food truck. It was hot, but not like it was in Georgia. In Georgia, I’d always had so much boob sweat, the Georgia Forestry Commission could have declared my under-boob region it’s own tributary. I took a bite of one of my wieners and sighed happily. Life had let me down, but these Vienna sausages were consistently the highlight of my day. Hennie leaned forward on his elbows as I opened my laptop, and I tried not to stare at his bulging forearms. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, and he was so fit, it was like he’d never tasted his own pretzels. No one could have unlimited access to such bready goodness and look that hot. “Never, Blake, but stealing my wifi and staring at a building that was demolished over six months ago isn’t going to help.” I glared at him, my fake outrage just making him smirk. “I’m not stealing your wifi. I eat two of your pretzels and at least one wiener a day. I’m a paying customer.” Granted, that was all I ate every day, since most of my savings were being eaten up by the shitty-ass motel around the corner I’d had to check into while I mulled over my options. There weren’t many, so there wasn’t much mulling going on, but I was in denial. This was what happened when I was impulsive. Well, not impulsive. You see, it started a year ago. I’d dropped out of my Accounting course at college, because I hated it, and started a community college course on Graphic Design and Digital Art. I’d found my passion. So when I got an invite to the exclusive Baldessari School of Art, for their piloted Digital Art and Design program, I’d jumped on board. I looked at the modern monstrosity of a building on Street View on Maps, had a video conference interview with the Dean of Admissions, paid the exorbitant amount of tuition fees upfront, and packed my bags. The last month at home with my parents had been filled with fights; it’d been awful. Impulsive I wasn’t, but stubborn? That’s a whole different question. I was as stubborn as the day was long. So when my parents had said I was foolish to give up my Walmart job to play on my computer all day in LA, I dug in my heels and told them they were wrong. When my friends had told me I was crazy to break up with Paul, the boyfriend I’d had since senior year, who refused to come to LA with me? I told them that if he couldn’t support my dreams, he wasn’t the right guy for me. That decision I stood by. Paul had told me I was being stupid, that I should stay in Dahlonega, Georgia, with him. He’d offered to move in together. Hell, he’d even said we could get engaged. He’d offered