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  CLICKBAIT

  © 2017 Lisa Suzanne

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law and except for excerpts used in reviews. If you would like to use any words from this book other than for review purposes, prior written permission must be obtained from the publisher.

  Published in the United States of America by Books by LS, LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

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  BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE

  CONFLICTED

  NOT JUST ANOTHER ROMANCE NOVEL

  THE VINTAGE SERIES BOX SET

  VINTAGE VOLUME ONE

  VINTAGE VOLUME TWO

  THE HE FEELS TRILOGY BOX SET

  HOW HE REALLY FEELS (HE FEELS, BOOK 1)

  WHAT HE REALLY FEELS (HE FEELS, BOOK 2)

  SINCE HE REALLY FEELS (HE FEELS, BOOK 3)

  SEPARATION ANXIETY

  SIDE EFFECTS

  SECOND OPINION

  DEDICATION

  To the two boys who always top the Fast Five of my favorite people.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FAST FIVE

  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

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AUTHOR LINKS

  BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE

  NOT JUST ANOTHER ROMANCE NOVEL PREVIEW

  COURTING SANDY EGGO

  posted by Courtney Sanders

  FAST FIVE: WHAT NOT TO SAY ON A FIRST DATE

  5. You have the kind of face that makes me want to have babies with you.

  4. The last guy I was with had the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.

  3. I hope this date goes better than the one I went on last night.

  2. I refuse to have sex until the tenth date.

  1. Your trip to the beach last summer looked really fun on Instagram.

  CLICKBAIT (noun):

  Material designed to get people to click on a website.

  Alternatively, any activity with the main purpose of seeking attention.

  CHAPTER 1

  I stare at my laptop screen as the lone cursor on the blank page taunts me. I swear I had twenty-five ideas this morning, but now that I’m actually sitting down to write? Poof! All gone.

  Writing is not only my passion, it’s my job. I run a very successful dating and relationship blog in San Diego called Courting Sandy Eggo, and today’s writer’s block is brought to you by the stagnation of my own love life.

  I was in a relationship with a guy named Harrison for six months, but we broke it off. We weren’t going anywhere, and I thought maybe the single life would spark up some new ideas for the blog. It did for a little while, but now I just miss having someone to come home to each day. It can be hard to blog about relationships when you’re not in one.

  I text my best friend Emme, who is a promoter for my favorite bar, The Port. Basically that means she gets paid to get people to the bar and then party with them.

  Me: What’s going on tonight?

  The clock at the top of my screen tells me it’s just before noon, so she might not even be awake yet. It sounds lazy, but the girl is up until five in the morning on a regular basis, so her schedule is just different from most normal people.

  I shut my laptop—I’m tired of staring at the blank screen, and I have plenty of articles written that I can choose from to post tomorrow. I just hate relying on the archives. I want to write something new. Words generally come easily for me, but every once in a while, I hit a roadblock.

  The cure tends to be a nice, long walk, but I really hate walking alone—Harrison got the dog when we split. To be fair, it was his dog, but I got attached to the sweet Golden Retriever when I lived with her. I may still have a key to his place, and I may sneak in from time to time to visit Shelby…and maybe I occasionally take her for walks when Harrison is at work.

  That seems like a good idea, so I walk my ass from the beachfront condo I bought when I dumped Harrison a few blocks over to Harrison’s much larger house. He’s a digital media specialist. We met when I was first filling ad space on the blog, and he gave me good advice to nurture my baby as it grew into an actual business. He makes a shit ton of money, and he loves nothing more than to flaunt it. The sex was good, but there wasn’t much more between us.

  He works long hours, so I know he won’t be home. I let myself in, and Shelby comes running over to me, jumping on me and licking my face. She deserves better than neglect from Harrison, and I think that’s why I still come over to visit and walk her. She’d be a fattie without me.

  I’m wondering if I should fess up and tell Harrison I’m stealing Shelby for the day. She loves Dog Beach, and I think a trip to the beach with a bunch of puppies might be just what I need to snap out of my writer’s block. But, a trip to the beach means a long day with a dog plus a bath when she gets home, and Harrison will definitely know someone took his dog out if he comes home and she smells like a fresh bath.

  Or will he? He was never overly observant. He might not even notice.

  Still, she’s his dog.

  Our breakup wasn’t that bad—it’s not like we’re bitter enemies forever. We’ve run into each other socially a few times, and it wasn’t even that awkward. We also may have had one or two unhealthy nights post breakup.

  I finally fire off a text.

  Me: Still have your key. Taking Shelby to Dog Beach.

  He writes back almost immediately.

  Harrison: I know. I’ve seen you dog-napping her on my security cameras for the last month. I wondered when you were going to tell me.

  I giggle and look up at one of the cameras. I shoot him the middle finger and then blow him a kiss. My phone dings with a new text.

  Harrison: Sometimes I really miss you. Mostly just your body on top of mine.

  I giggle again, flash my tits at his camera, and then head out with Shelby.

  My phone rings when I’m a few blocks from the beach.

  “Emme Rose, to what do I owe the pleasure of an actual phone call?” She’s notorious for only texting, rarely calling.

  “I’m plucking and you’re on speaker.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Let me repeat: I’m plucking.”

  “I don’t want to know what’s being plucked.”

  “Probably not. I heard about a few bachelorette parties at Shrine, and Axel wants me to get them to The Port before tonight’s band starts.”

  “Who’s playing?�
�

  “MFB.” They’re a local rock band. Emme is in charge of scheduling musicians and tries to get a good mix of different bands; MFB is really good, and rumor has it they’re being signed by a big-deal label soon.

  “Did my text wake you?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “You’re crabby this morning.”

  “Sorry. I had a thing with Axel last night.” She’s banging Axel, the super sexy head bartender at The Port. He’s all bearded and brooding, and the ladies always fall over themselves to get to him.

  “What sort of thing?”

  “Let’s talk later, okay? I just pulled some skin instead of a hair.”

  “Ouch. Meet me at eight for dinner?”

  “Sure. Pink Agave?” she asks, naming our favorite Mexican restaurant.

  “Perfect.”

  She hangs up, and I slip my phone into the pocket of my expensive, beautiful white dress just as I step foot onto the sand of Dog Beach. Let’s be honest, pockets are everything when it comes to a dress.

  It’s crowded for a Thursday afternoon. I let Shelby off the leash and she makes a beeline for the water as I glance around at the dog owners, finding mostly older retired couples with their pets.

  I find a stump to sit on and watch Shelby for a few minutes. She’s frolicking with the other dogs happily, and everyone is getting along. There’s usually that one dog that ruins it for all the other ones, but it seems to be a harmonious atmosphere today.

  I’m enjoying the sunshine and watching the dogs when out of nowhere, a Siberian Husky puppy sneaks up on my side and jumps onto my lap. It’s a wet—correction, very wet canine who clearly just ran out of the water and right to me. He shakes his whole body in that way dogs do, soaking both me and my dress in the process. When I look down at my beautiful Marc Jacobs garment, I see a dirty paw print I’m certain will never scrub out of the white fabric.

  A man rushes over toward us, but I barely notice because I’m busy wiping water off my face. “I’m so sorry!” his deep voice says as I rub at the quickly growing stain.

  I smell like a wet dog, and I’m regretting the decision to wear a white dress to the beach. Actually, I’m regretting the decision to come to the beach at all.

  “What the hell?” I yell as I continue to wipe at the stain. It’s setting; the dress is ruined and I’m pissed. “Train your fucking dog before you let him off the leash!” I finally look up at the man who holds his puppy around the waist with one arm.

  My eyes are immediately drawn to his abdomen. He’s not wearing a shirt, and he’s tan, toned, and tempting.

  Thank God I’m wearing my enormous sunglasses—they conveniently conceal the fact that I’m staring right at his cut body.

  My eyes wander upward. Some men have the perfect body but not the kind of face I’m interested in, and some men have the body and the face but lack the personality. All I know about this asshole so far is that he let his dog attack a stranger.

  When my eyes find his face, I’m pleasantly surprised—he’s gorgeous. He’s wearing sunglasses, and I’m well aware that he could have a completely different look without them, but I’d best describe his face as chiseled. His thick, dark hair looks like it’s styled with expensive products, and I’d guess he’s around my age, maybe a little older—and then I realize I’m totally checking him out.

  I play it off like I’m looking at the puppy, and then I remember that his dog just ruined my dress.

  “I did train him,” the man says. “I trained him to find the most gorgeous woman on the beach and run to her. I guess I forgot to train him not to do that after he’s been in the water.”

  He grins, his face lighting up behind his sunglasses. His teeth are so white that it’s a good thing my eyes are shaded.

  “Cheesy lines don’t work on me.”

  “It’s not a line. Let me make it up to you by taking you out.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “You’re feisty.”

  “And you’re douchey.” I turn back toward the water, checking on Shelby. She’s jumping in the surf like a maniac, running a few feet into the water, chasing her tail, and running back out before repeating the whole process.

  “Wait a minute,” he says. “Are you Courtney Sanders?”

  My head whips back toward him. He’s studying me closely. “How the fuck do you know who I am?”

  “My ex followed your blog religiously. It might be part of the reason we broke up, actually.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with you.”

  He shakes his head. “It was all her. I’m Carter,” he says. “Carter King.”

  “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’d be lying.” I point to my ruined dress.

  “Likewise.”

  I walk away from the King of Abs and whistle for Shelby. I don’t want to stay another minute at this beach where douchebags like Carter King hang out.

  COURTING SANDY EGGO

  posted by Courtney Sanders

  FAST FIVE: BEST SANDY EGGAN PLACES TO MEET A HOT GUY AND GIVE BACK

  Click the links below for more information on each charity.

  5. Habitat for Humanity. Is there anything hotter than a guy pounding nails with his big, heavy hammer?

  4. Books for San Diegans. Here you can find scores of cuties who like to read.

  3. Horse Habitat of San Diego. Because who doesn’t like to see hot guys mounting horses and working with kids?

  2. Puppy Parade. Because puppies. Puppies need homes, and while they wait for one, you can volunteer to play with them. Plus, hot guys like dogs.

  1. Soup on Fourth. Hand out food to those who need it with hot bachelor owner Brandon York. Maybe you’ll be the one to finally get him to settle down.

  CHAPTER 2

  When I finally arrive home after scrubbing the beach off Shelby, I throw my gorgeous dress in the trash and take a shower.

  After I dry off, I post a Fast Five about some local charities. I like to find ways to give back to the community through my blog, and I have a calendar tab with local events where singles can meet other people, including volunteer opportunities. It’s a great way to link giving back to dating and relationships. I have several charities I work with regularly who send me updates on their events and volunteer needs, and all of that links back to The San Diego Chronicle.

  I started my blog a few years before blogging became popular, back when I interned for The Chronicle, San Diego’s biggest newspaper. They’ve been good to me there, and I still occasionally freelance for them. They helped me cultivate my baby, which exploded faster than I ever could have imagined. Now I have companies approaching me for coveted ad space, and I’m lucky enough that I get to be picky with whom I choose to work.

  A glance at my calendar reminds me that the San Diego Thirty Under Thirty event is coming up in a few weeks. It’s sponsored by the San Diego Business Weekly, and it’s the second year in a row that I’m being honored. I need to find a dress and a date, but I’ll get to that eventually.

  After I finish my work, I check my phone and find several missed calls and texts plus one voicemail.

  I listen to the voicemail first.

  It’s from my ex—not Harrison, but the guy before Harrison.

  Liam Carlisle.

  We dated for a few months but broke up when he took a job in Chicago. We were both invested in the relationship, but we tried long distance for a few weeks after he moved and it was just too hard.

  I haven’t talked to him since before I started dating Harrison, actually. I wonder what he wants.

  I listen to the message.

  “Court, hi. It’s me, Liam. I’m in town and wanted to see you if you’re…you know…free to see me. Call me.”

  His innuendo is clear: he wants to have sex with me while he’s in town.

  Honestly, I’m not sure I have the strength to deny him. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, and the sex was…magnificent. If it was great with Harrison, it was
leagues beyond that with Liam.

  His body is something to cry over in and of itself, and paired with the handsome face, warm brown eyes, and great hair, it was hard to get over him.

  Based on that, I know what the right answer is here, but I type out a text to him anyway.

  Me: Come to The Port tonight.

  It’s probably a bad decision, but I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to Liam.

  I sit down at the computer after I’ve gotten dressed, and I feel much better than earlier. The block seems to be gone, and my fingers fly across the keys as I review my notes on the Sloshball game that caused a divorce.

  In the middle of a damn sentence, Carter King pops into my head.

  Well, to be fair, Carter King’s abs pop into my head.

  I’m curious enough that I open a new tab and type his name into the search box.

  I get a ton of results on him, and I click the images first. Seeing him without his sunglasses…well, let’s just say he doesn’t have a wonky eye or anything. I click off the images to go back to the search results and quickly discover that he’s from a wealthy New York family.

  I click back to the images. He is definite spank bank material.

  As I’m zooming in on his abs, my phone dings with a new text, making me jump. I click off the screen guiltily, and I can’t quite put my finger on why I feel guilty for looking him up. I live alone, so it’s not like someone’s going to bust in on me researching some guy I met at the beach, and even if someone did bust me, it wouldn’t matter. I research shit like this for a living, and I’m really good at what I do.

  I check the text.

  Liam: I’ll be there.

  That’s all it says. No Can’t wait to see you! or Looking forward to it! He just wants to get laid, I’m afraid, and I’m even more afraid that I’m going to allow it.

  * * *

  “No. Absolutely not.”