At the Stroke of Midnight by Tara Sivec

Author:Tara Sivec [Sivec, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary
Publisher: Swerve
Published: 2018-02-27T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17: Nipple Nut Clusters

“I was fired from the PTA.”

“Good. You better not be wearing those mom jeans on your date with PJ.”

With a sigh, I shift my cell phone to the opposite ear as I turn from side to side and check out my reflection in the mirror. The one perk of having a teenager daughter: I can steal her clothes.

“We burned those jeans last night, remember? You chanted ‘Fuck mom jeans’ and made everyone do a shot before you threw them in the fire,” I recap. “And stop calling this a date. It’s not a date.”

Turning completely around and looking over my shoulder at my butt, I smile to myself when I see the way Anastasia’s skinny jeans hug my curves and sit low on my hips. I paired them with a fitted pink-and-dark brown flannel that I tucked into the jeans, and finished the outfit off with a cute brown belt and pink ballet flats, all courtesy of my daughter, who doesn’t make me call her Asia anymore, but still refuses to wear anything with color.

“Hey, are you still there?” I ask Ariel when she doesn’t immediately reply. I turn back around to face the mirror, checking out the messy bun I attempted myself, since there’s no way I wanted to try keeping my hair down and curling it like Tiffany did last night.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I still can’t get used to you dropping f-bombs like it’s no big deal when two weeks ago you were still saying shit like goshdarnit and tarnation. Also, this is sooooooo a date. He picked the time. He picked the place. And he’s picking you up in ten minutes. It’s a date.”

It’s not a date. It’s stripper boot camp, just like PJ said, whatever that means. I’ve been texting him all morning asking where we’re going, and he just keeps telling me it’s a surprise and reminding me to wear a shirt.

Annoying man.

I’m not at all freaking out that I ripped off my shirt in front of him last night, drunkenly went off on him, then let him stick his tongue down my throat while everyone in my yard watched, as well as a few neighbors I didn’t realize were lurking around. They all just stood there and stared while I got lost in his kiss, never wanted it to end, and wondered if a woman could drop dead in the middle of her front yard from overstimulation.

Nope, not freaking out at all. I’m cool as a cucumber now, but only because I did all my freaking out last night after everyone went home and I spent all night stress baking. My kitchen counter is currently full of Anxiety Apple Pie Muffins, What the Hell Did I Do Last Night Lemon Tarts and I’m Never Drinking Again Donuts. All full of gluten and sugar.

“It’s not a date. I’m changing the subject. Did you hear me when I said I got fired from the PTA? In an email. Can you believe

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