Once Upon a Real Good Time Read online

  Contents

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  About

  Stay Up to Date With Lauren

  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

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Once Upon A Real Good Time

  Lauren Blakely

  Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Blakely

  LaurenBlakely.com

  Cover Design by © Helen Williams

  First Edition Book

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  * * *

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  * * *

  One Love Series dual-POV Standalones

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  * * *

  Standalones

  * * *

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  Most Likely to Score

  Wanderlust

  Come As You Are

  Part-Time Lover

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  Unzipped (Fall 2018)

  Far Too Tempting

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Playing With Her Heart

  Out of Bounds

  * * *

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Trophy Husband

  Stars in Their Eyes

  * * *

  The No Regrets Series

  The Thrill of It

  The Start of Us

  Every Second With You

  * * *

  The Seductive Nights Series

  First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)

  Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)

  After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)

  One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)

  A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)

  * * *

  The Joy Delivered Duet

  Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)

  Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)

  * * *

  The Sinful Nights Series

  Sweet Sinful Nights

  Sinful Desire

  Sinful Longing

  Sinful Love

  * * *

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)

  * * *

  The Jewel Series

  A two-book sexy contemporary romance series

  The Sapphire Affair

  The Sapphire Heist

  About

  That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star?

  * * *

  Turns out he's my son's new music teacher. Oops.

  * * *

  But I didn't know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar — like he owned it.

  * * *

  My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we’re both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don’t just have chemistry in bed — we connect over everything.

  * * *

  That is, until I learn he’s the man who’ll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son — the best music lessons money can buy.

  * * *

  Time to turn down the volume on our shenanigans. Only that’s easier said than done.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  I can rock a guitar solo in front of thousands, I can write chart-topping tunes, and I can absolutely stop thinking about my student’s mother naked.

  * * *

  After all, I’m a single parent too, and I know what it’s like to put your kid first. That’s what I do every damn day.

  * * *

  Trouble is, now that I’ve had Mackenzie, it’s hard — and I do mean hard — to stop wanting her. Harder too when I get to know her, and learn she’s an awesome mom, a great friend, and, oh yeah, she happens to get along perfectly with my daughter.

  * * *

  All we have to do is set some rules. No dating, no nookie when the kids are around, and no one gets hurt.

  * * *

  It’s all working out beautifully. Until we start breaking the rules, one by one.

  * * *

  Making music with her in the bedroom is easy. But will we be more than just a real good time when the music stops?

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  Chapter 1

  Mackenzie

  * * *

  I’m not checking him out.

  I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

  The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”

  I’m perched fo
rward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

  “—in the 2009 movie The Hangover?”

  “So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

  I’m not a ringer.

  I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

  That’s all.

  Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

  As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

  And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.

  But for now . . . Hello, nice view.

  As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.

  I bet they’d fly other places too.

  Come to think of it, I better give him a full and proper appraisal, especially since the Jeopardy!-style theme clock blasting from the hostess’s phone is counting down the seconds till we’ve all penned an answer to her latest question, which means I have time to ogle.

  A thin blue T-shirt reveals inked and toned arms, and stubble covers his jaw—deliberate stubble. Not the I-didn’t-shave-today stubble, but a healthy amount of scruff. Yum.

  “Would you like your camera to take a picture, or have you captured Guitar Hero in your brain for posterity?”

  I jerk my gaze back to Roxy.

  Note to self: develop some subtlety when ogling. Especially since you’re out of practice on . . . everything.

  I flip a strand of hair off my shoulder. “I wasn’t checking him out.”

  Roxy rolls her hazel eyes. “I’m hereby awarding you a trophy for the most unconvincing attempt at denial ever.”

  I huff. “Fine. He’s crazy handsome. Look at those cheekbones. Those lips. Those eyes.”

  She sings his praises too. “Those hands, that ass, those legs.”

  I swat her arm. “Stop perving on my eye candy.”

  My best friend smiles wickedly. “It’s so easy to see through you.”

  “I didn’t deny it for long.” I hold up one finger. “For, like, one round of denial.”

  She reaches for my iced tea and hands it to me. “Speaking of rounds, take a drink. It’ll make you strong for the final round of the game.”

  “Sometimes I think you use me for the useless facts in my head.”

  “You don’t have to think it. You know I do.”

  “Love you too.”

  “Also,” she says, leaning closer, “your eye candy was checking you out as well.”

  My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Lying liar who lies.”

  The hostess taps the mic from her spot in front of Mr. Guitar Hero. “And now, for the final question in The Tuesday Night Grouchy Owl Pub Quiz . . .”

  Like synchronized swimmers, Roxy and I straighten our shoulders in unison. I grab the pencil. Hold it tight. This isn’t a first-to-the-bell game, but there’s something about being on high alert that feels right. I’m ready.

  Questions zip through my brain, answers following instantly as my mind exercises itself. The Beatles were first the Quarrymen; at sixty-three, Jupiter has the most moons; the Pacific is 8,000 meters deep.

  “Which Whitney Houston song is an anagram of ‘mention mine to me’?”

  What the what?

  I turn to Roxy, and we are matching slack-jawed, WTH memes. Admittedly, pop music is my weakest category, but I can handle the basic questions surrounding the genre. This question is a little left of center though. I try my best to cycle through the diva’s tunes. We mouth to each other the big Whitney hits: "I Will Always Love You.” “Greatest Love of All.” “How Will I Know.”

  I shake my head, and Roxy furrows her brow.

  I stare off at the stage when the guy with the surfer hair catches my gaze and mouths hi, startling me. Is he talking to me? Oh yes, he is, since he follows that hi with four more words.

  Holy smokes.

  He slipped me the answer.

  I’m officially in love.

  I grab Roxy’s arm. “‘One Moment in Time,’” I whisper, and I unleash a smile at Guitar Hero. Because we’re one step closer to winning, and that’s one of my favorite things to do on a Tuesday night during my hour-long escape at The Grouchy Owl.

  But wait. How does hottie know a Whitney Houston song? Straight men can know Whitney tunes, right?

  Of course they can. God, I hope so. He looks seriously straight. He’s staring at me like a man who enjoys boobs stares at a woman who has them.

  I sneak another peek. His fingers slide down the guitar as he tunes it. He raises an eyebrow and locks eyes with me, his lips curving up.

  My stupid stomach has the audacity to swoop.

  Of course, in my stomach’s defense, the loop-de-loop makes complete sense. Not only is he a babe registering easily at 15.5 on the only-goes-to-ten babe-o-meter, but he’s holding a guitar. The way he wields the Stratocaster cranks my libido up high.

  That might be due to said libido’s sadly solo life these days.

  As the hostess collects the answer slips, Roxy nudges my shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Oh please. You can do it,” she adds.

  “I’m not going to go talk to some random guy onstage at a bar, prepping for his set.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I sputter. “Because it’s dangerous, risky, crazy, and I have a thirteen-year-old at home.”

  “Isn’t Kyle out right now? Practice or something?”

  “Yes, but I need to pick him up in a few minutes, and that means I should go.”

  Roxy pouts. “Don’t go before we find out if we win. And don’t go before you talk to Mr. Steamy McMusic.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You go talk to him.”

  “I can’t. He has your eye marks all over him.”

  “Good. I own the view.”

  I stand, and Roxy joins me to give a quick goodbye hug. “Love ya,” I say.

  “Thanks for coming out to play. It’s nice to see your face every now and then.”

  I head to the door, nearly bumping into the curly-haired Big Ike on the way.

  “Hey, Mack. Is Kyle ready for Pine Notes?” she barks.

  “Starts tomorrow. He’s so excited.” As the keeper of all musical knowledge in the tristate area, she recommended the music camp my son’s attending starting tomorrow, and it sounds like a fantastic opportunity.

  “The teachers there are great. He’s going to love it.”

  I give a thumbs-up, wave goodbye, and don’t even bother to check and see if Mr. Guitar Hero is watching me, though I’m tempted.

  I head down the street then turn the corner, hoofing it a few blocks to the community center where Kyle practices with some of the other kids his age. He’s formed an ad hoc sort of string quartet with some friends in the city who like the same music as he does. Shortly after I arrive, the kids stream outside, and I smile at my little blond-haired, brown-eyed guy.

  Okay, he’s not so little anymore.

  But he’s still my guy.

  “Hey, monster,” I say. “How was practice?”

  He slings his violin case over his shoulder. “It was good. We worked on a new Brahms concerto that’s totally dope.”

  “That’s the o
nly way Brahms concertos should be.”

  During the short walk home, Kyle regales me with details of the music. His voice rises as he grows more excited, then he smiles at me, the metal in his braces occupying most of the real estate on his teeth.

  We reach our building and go inside.

  “Did you win big tonight?” he asks once we’re in our apartment.

  I shrug and smile. “Don’t know. But we fought valiantly. Are you hungry? Want me to cook some scrambled eggs with rosemary country potatoes?”

  He pats his flat belly on his trim frame. “I’m still stuffed from the sandwich you made earlier.”

  I gesture to his room. “Big day tomorrow. Go put your violin away and get ready for bed. We’re leaving to take you to camp at seven thirty sharp.”

  He salutes me on the way to his room.