Donut Swipe Right Read online

  Table of Contents

  Donut Swipe Right

  Copyright

  To all the donut lovers.

  Dear Reader,

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  Epilogue

  NEED MORE SWEET STORIES THAT CONTAIN DONUT CARBS? CHECK OUT

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY TRACIE

  NATIONAL DONUT DAY COLLABORATION

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Tracie Douglas

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Diamond in the Rough Editing

  Formatting: CP Smith

  Cover Design: Dark Water Covers

  TO ALL THE DONUT LOVERS.

  May the cream be sweet and the glaze just right, before you take that perfect bite.

  Dear Reader,

  June 1st is National Donut Day. To celebrate this amazing dessert, a baker’s dozen of authors have come together to create thirteen new stories that are sugar-free and donut contain carbs!

  Each story is a complete standalone. They vary in theme and heat levels.

  We hope you enjoy the donut day collaboration and that we bring you a little something to help satisfy your sweet tooth.

  Please consider reviewing to help your authors.

  Enjoy!

  With love and sprinkles,

  Donut Day Authors

  1

  Elizabeth

  “You have to get back on the horse,” my older sister, Delilah, says before sifting a cloud of powdered sugar over the tray of jelly-filled donuts.

  She’s right; it’s been almost two months since my last real date, but telling my sister I have no interest in wading through the pool of single men in search of my Mr. Right is not an easy thing to do. Not that she would understand the dilemma that is the single life. She’s been with the same man since she was twelve.

  The last date I went on was the last straw. The guy wouldn’t stop talking about himself. He went on and on about his accolades and achievements. He bragged about his job and most recent financial gains. He even told me about the time he got to go to the Playboy Mansion and the massive orgy he took part in while there. He never asked me a question or bothered to get to know me in any way, shape or form.

  No, I take that back. He did ask me a total of two questions.

  The first was for my half of the bill, which didn’t come as a shock to me. After all, he’d done nothing but prove what a huge douchebag he is. Why would I even consider he might be a gentleman and pick up the check, right?

  The second question came the moment we crossed the threshold from the restaurant to the sidewalk, though it was more of a proposition than a question.

  Your place or mine?

  I mean, what the actual fuck?

  There were literally no words to give him because I fell into a state of uncontrollable giggles. As if the night hadn’t been bad enough, he walked off insulted by my reaction, leaving me to find my own way home.

  Nope, wading through the pool is not high on my list of things to do. I’d rather curl up with a good book written by my favorite author, Sophie Samuels, every evening for the rest of my life. At least those men, though fictional, never let a girl down.

  “I’m not still pining over him, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” I swipe a finger across the wooden countertop, collecting the sugar with the tip of my finger before popping it into my mouth. The him I’m referring to is the man I almost married a year ago, Miles.

  He was supposed to be my forever, that is until I came home early from work to find him drilling our neighbor from behind. Now he’s moved on with her, and they’re expecting their first child in a few months.

  Another example of the kind of men I attract—complete assholes.

  “What about the app Kelly was telling you about? HEARTsync?”

  “Oh, no, not going to happen,” I exclaim, feeling a surge of bile rise into my chest. “I have no interest in using an app to find me Mr. Right.”

  “What about Mr. Right-Now?” She pauses long enough to give me the older-sister stare, the one that tells you there’s no getting out of this one.

  “I do not need to get laid,” I scoff, pulling at my fingers in my lap.

  “Lizzy, this is me you’re talking to. I know you better than you’re willing to admit.” She sets the sifter down and places both hands on the counter, narrowing her gaze on me further. She’s right. She does know me, probably even better than Miles did. “There’s only so much a battery-operated boyfriend can do.”

  “Maybe, but at least I can turn him off and shove him away in some drawer when I’m done with him,” I retort, feeling a flush of heat spread across my face.

  “I’m not saying you need to marry whoever this app matches you with, but wouldn’t it be nice to change it up a bit and connect with someone?” Her soft brown eyes, much darker than my own amber-colored ones, are filled with concern and maybe even a little pity.

  Dee and I have always been close, despite the six-year age gap between us. She was more of a mother to me than a sister at times, because our own mother bounced from man to man, falling in and out of love easily. Our upbringing wasn’t perfect, but as long as we had each other, we had it all.

  “You realize you’re supporting the whole sex-before-marriage thing,” I tease. “I’m so going to get you back for it when your daughter is old enough to have this conversation.”

  “Go right ahead. You’ll be dealing with Linc, then,” she chuckles, rubbing the swollen belly hidden underneath the bright pink and purple apron she has on. “If he has any say at all, this little girl will be fitted for a chastity belt the moment a boy starts sniffing around.”

  I laugh because it’s true. The moment Dee and Lincoln found out they were expecting a little girl, Linc went into protective dad mode. The idea of some boy coming anywhere near his daughter, even in the womb, sends him into a fit.

  A soft sigh escapes my lips, and my smile falters as the painful reminder that I’m nowhere near having a family of my own drops onto my shoulders.

  “You’ll never get there if you don’t put yourself out there,” Dee singsongs, and I realize my inner thoughts were spoken out loud.

  “A dating app isn’t going to get me any closer, not when the damn thing is nothing but a meat market of one-night stands and random hookups.”

  “In other words, exactly what you need.” Dee lifts the tray of powdered donuts and slides it on the tall rack beside her.

  “How is a one-night stand exactly what I need?”

  “You need to clean out the cobwebs.”

  “Cobwebs? It hasn’t been that long,” I exclaim, doing a quick calculation in my head. “It’s only been six months.”

  “Shut the front door.” She stands with another tray of donuts, her eyes wide and once again on me. “Cobwebs. Yep. I was right.”

  “Dee—”

  She drops the tray on the countertop and extends a hand. “Give me your phone.”

 
“No.” I shake my head, shifting off my stool and onto my feet.

  “Elizabeth Bennett, give me your phone,” she clips in the harsh motherly tone she used on me the time I came home drunk from Cass Mallery’s party when I was seventeen. I freeze in my spot before I can make it out the door and away from her. Reaching for my phone in my back pocket, I realize it isn’t there. My eyes fly to the spot on the counter where I set it down, but Delilah reaches out and snatches it up before my feet become unstuck.

  “Don’t you dare,” I hiss, moving toward her. She smiles, unlocks my phone, because of course she knows the password, and stares down at it. Her eyes flick up to me, right before her smile morphs into a knowing smirk.

  The app.

  I installed it last night.

  Shit.

  “Lizzy, this picture, it’s perfect,” she exclaims, taking in the still shot of me standing at the top of a mountain, my face flush from the hike, and my eyes alight from the beauty around me. It’s one of my favorite photos of myself because it was the first time I felt hope after ending things with Miles.

  “I can explain that.” I step forward, reaching out to grab the phone, but she moves it out of my reach, opening the app as she does so. “Dee, come on, I’m serious. Please don’t do this.”

  “Let’s see what we have here.” She flicks through a couple of photos, careful to swipe left as she does so, rejecting the potential matches. Her eyes light up a second later, and she turns the screen for me to see. “He’s cute. What about him?”

  I place a hand on my hip, trying my hardest to replicate the famous stare down, but she’s immune to the effect.

  “Should I swipe left or right?” she asks, shaking the phone in my face. I reach up to snatch it from her grasp, thankfully succeeding this time. She sticks her tongue out at me. “Would you just look at the guy? I’ve never steered you wrong before.”

  Again, she’s right. She’s always had my best interests at heart and has been supportive of whatever dreams I’ve decided to chance.

  Taking a breath, I look down at the screen… and freeze.

  “For the love of all that is holy, how is he that good looking?” I exclaim, looking up at my sister and then back down at the screen. My body, after six months of dormancy, begins to tingle all over. My eyes rake in every single detail of the picture before me. His dark eyes pin me in place, and I find myself searching the digital image of him for some kind of flaw, only to find none. “Sweet Jesus.”

  “Well, are you going to swipe right?” I barely hear her question before my finger moves in action, swiping his photo to the right and opening a chat box.

  “Fuck,” I swear, feeling a wave of panic hit my gut. The moment his photo disappears from my sight, reality sets in. “What did I just do?”

  Delilah chuckles before taking the phone from my hand and types out a message in the chat box. It pings a second later, but she hands it back to me without looking at it.

  “You can thank me later,” she whispers and brushes the excess powder off her hands. She chuckles again before walking out of the backroom, leaving me to stare down at the open chat box on my phone and the conversation she started.

  CaliGirl24: Donut swipe left.

  MrDarcy: Hello, gorgeous. ; )

  Shit, what do I say now?

  2

  Will

  I stare down at the open chat box waiting for a reply, but as seconds turn into minutes and nothing happens, I close it, pocketing my phone.

  “Will, wait up,” my business partner, Hank Jefferies, shouts from down the hallway as he bounds toward me, dodging the bodies milling about. I reach out to hold the elevator door, releasing it once he steps inside. He puffs a breath and smooths out his suit jacket. “Headed to lunch?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting a potential client for a quick bite, then I’m headed to the docks to meet with the realtor,” I clip, wishing he hadn’t stopped me. I’m already running late, and the last thing I need right now are his playboy tendencies.

  “All work and no play, makes Will a grumpy boy,” he chuckles before pulling out his phone and typing something into it. “Speaking of, care to meet up for a drink tonight? I’ve got a VIP booth reserved at Savant. Thursday nights are ladies’ night, so the chances of even an old grouch like you getting some are pretty good.”

  “As much as I’d like to, again I’m going to have to decline. I’ll be in New York tonight prepping for a board meeting scheduled tomorrow morning with our shareholders,” I clip, feeling more and more irritated with him with each second that passes. “The meeting you claimed you couldn’t attend.”

  “Is that tomorrow?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

  “This has been on the calendar for three weeks, Hank,” I explain, resisting the urge to pinch the bride on my nose. Why I chose to get into business with this man is a mystery to me, and I’ve regretted every day of it. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll give the board your best.”

  “Thanks, man.” He smiles, never looking up from his phone. The ding of the elevator announcing we’ve reached the ground floor has never been a sweeter sound. As the doors open, the crowd of people waiting to board part down the center, making room for my exit.

  “I’ll catch you on Monday,” Hank calls from inside the elevator. I shake my head wondering if there is some clause in our contract that I could use to my benefit to squeeze the dumb son of a bitch out. There are only a few things Hank cares about: Money, booze, women, and his dick. The rest of the world can go down in flames as long as he has those four things. It wasn’t always like this, though.

  The truth of it is, the only reason Fitzwilliam Jefferies Financial is successful is because of me and the name I carry. Even though Hank and I started this company from the ground up, using only the money we’d earned with our own two hands, it’s our names that created the instant trust with our clients.

  Now a global company, we never thought we’d outdo the men who gave us our name. Rightfully so, too. When I think about the day my father, the biggest asshole on the planet, signed the papers, relinquishing Darcy Holdings to FJF, I celebrated his demise for weeks.

  The soft vibration of my phone in my pocket interrupts my thought pattern, and I reach for it while greeting my driver, “Afternoon, Garcia.”

  He opens the door to the sleek Mercedes and responds as he always does, “Afternoon, sir.”

  I slide into the luxury vehicle, feeling the oiled leather against my slacks. He closes the door, and I reach inside my jacket to check the message I received. Expecting it to be my secretary, confirming my reservation for my table at the restaurant, I’m pleasantly surprised to see a response from CaliGirl24.

  I slide the lock across the bottom of my phone and open the chat box.

  CaliGirl24: I’m so sorry. My sister got a hold of my phone and decided to message you for me, because she knows I’d never do it myself. She seems to think I have this problem, and I need a hookup to make it right, but that’s beside the point and probably the last thing you want to hear. Anyways, I’m sorry.

  I click on her name once again, pulling up her photo.

  CaliGirl24 stands with her arms wide and a bright smile on her face on top of a mountain. Her dark hair is pulled back into a braid, allowing the camera to capture the clear flush against her creamy skin. Her amber eyes shine brightly with the sun and draw me in.

  She looks happy.

  She looks like life.

  I’ve received many message requests from all sorts of women, but none of them inspired me to swipe right. None of them made me feel like I wanted to be in the picture beside them, experiencing the moment with them.

  Until her.

  MrDarcy: Do you?

  I respond without thinking, not caring if it comes off as crass or improper. The need to make her smile like she does in the picture surges through me.

  CaliGirl24: Do I what?

  Her response is instant, making my heart pound against my chest.

  MrDarcy: Need a hookup
.

  This time she makes me wait. Taking her time. Wording it right.

  I run a hand down the front of my tie, smoothing it out for no reason except to dispel the sudden nervous energy I’m feeling.

  What the fuck?

  I’m Fitzwilliam Darcy. I don’t get like this. I take what’s mine, fuck the consequences, and I don’t hook up with some random stranger from a fucking app.

  I close the chat screen. My finger hovers over the app, ready to uninstall it and forget about the girl whose eyes are so golden, any man would be lucky to stare into them.

  I move my finger, and my phone signals her next response.

  “You can’t help yourself, can you?” I growl to myself before opening the chat box again.

  CaliGirl24: How do I know you’re not some psycho killer?

  Her response causes me to laugh out loud, startling Garcia.

  “What was that, sir?” he asks, his eyes glancing back at me through the rearview mirror.

  “Nothing,” I answer, typing a quick response, turning the tables.

  MrDarcy: How do I know you’re not some pyscho killer?

  CaliGirl24: Damn, and here I thought I was being sly. Guess I’ll have to find some other unsuspecting fool to chop into little pieces.

  MrDarcy: And what fine pieces I’d make.

  CaliGirl24: Someone’s sure of himself.

  MrDarcy: I wouldn’t say that.

  CaliGirl24: What would you say it is, then?

  MrDarcy: Confidence.

  CaliGirl24: Seems a little arrogant, if you ask me.

  MrDarcy: I’ve been called that, too. Is it wrong to be comfortable in your own skin?

  CaliGirl24: Never.

  MrDarcy: I know who I am and what I want in life. I’m not afraid to go after it either.