THANK YOU to every blogger who has read, reviewed, posted, shared, and supported us. Your enthusiasm, support, and hard work does not go unnoticed. We wish we could send you your very own Kline as thanks. We can’t. And even if we could, we don’t think he’d go willingly, and we’re not really comfortable walking that fine a line with human trafficking.
THANK YOU, to our families. They support us, motivate us, and most importantly, tolerate us. Sometimes we’re not the easiest people to live with, especially when there is a deadline looming. We honestly don’t know what we’d do without you guys.
Hey. Cool it with the ego, cocksuckers. You guys can be assholes too. It’s not just us.
THANK YOU, to our favorite ladies in the infamous Camp Love Yourself Bora Bora Thread. You know who you are. You are crazy, hilarious, and so fucking cool. #YouveThatchedThat #CLYScoutsHonor
And last but not least, THANK YOU, to everyone who participated in our Tapping You giveaway. We loved reading your awkward and awesome stories, and we’ll be laughing about some of them for probably the rest of time. But don’t worry, we’re totally laughing with you.
As always, all our love.
Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a story, voted, shared, commented, liked, and bought this book. We hope you loved our little addition to Kline and Georgia and have your seatbelt on in preparation for Cassie and Thatch in Banking the Billionaire.
But our characters needed some help for this bonus material, so we enlisted you guys and your real life love stories.
These stories based on the entries by Christin and Melissa bear little to no resemblance to the original stories, so don’t blame them for what you’re about to read.
We hope you’ll all be forever lucky in love.
XO,
Max Monroe
“You’ve been to this place before?” I asked Cassie as we stepped inside Zero Dark Flirty. This was one of the most random choices of bars in Manhattan I’d ever been forced into entertaining, but I didn’t ask probing or detailed questions. Those kinds of questions led to answers, and answers usually led to some form of physical pain. Suddenly fearful of a surprise attack, I realized I could barely see Cassie through the darkness and was hoping my eyes would adjust quickly.
“Oh yeah, totally.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah, totally,” she repeated through a laugh.
I smiled and shook my head. “Just wait until Georgia and Kline get here. You’ll never hear the end of it if he can’t see his menu.”
“Fuck Big-dick and his old man eyes, Thatcher.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from telling her how dark it really was in here. I wasn’t big on many things, but I was big on sexual restitution for whatever suffering I’d experienced during the day, and trust me, the way to get it from Cassie was not by complaining.
“Hey!” she shouted and pointed toward an even darker corner of the bar. “That’s my friend Christin!”
How the fuck she could tell, I had no clue. All I could see were the vague shadows of a couple canoodling. Or fucking. Or fighting. Really, they could have been doing absolutely anything.
I’d have to take her at her word. “Should we go say hi?”
“Yeah. She’s had a really bad string of luck with men, so we’ll bail her out if we need to.”
As we got closer, so did Christin and her date, and I had a feeling we wouldn’t be needing to bail Christin out of anything.
“Christin! Hey!” Cassie greeted as we stopped in front of their table. Christin’s head whipped toward us and the whites of her eyes brightened the dark room just slightly.
“Oh my God! Cassie Phillips! I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“I know!”
They hugged and gabbed like girls tend to do until Christin’s eyes finally found my chest, and then moved up and up until they locked on my face.
“Holy hell. Who is this monster of a man?”
I reached out a hand with a smile as she tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m Thatch.”
“Christin.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too!” She turned to the table and reached for her date, glancing back to me in the process. “This is my date—oh shit!”
Her martini glass bounced and shattered and the cool liquid spilled everywhere in a rush, coating her date’s stomach and pants and making him jump from his seat.
“Shite!” he shouted in a deep Scottish brogue, and we all lunged toward the table to help him.
He laughed, though, and immediately, I was relieved to know I wasn’t going to have to assault some fucking random dude I’d just met for getting out of line over an honest accident.
“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a dick, yeah?”
We all started to laugh, and then I could have sworn I heard the mental screech.
“Wait…what?” I asked at the same time Cassie managed a, “Huh?”
Christin’s response was rightfully more dramatic. “What the fuck?”
“What?” he asked, and I shuddered at the flames in Christin’s eyes.
“Oh shit,” Cassie muttered, and I agreed with a nod. It was about to go down.
“It seems we’ve had a communication breakdown,” I attempted to mediate.