FOOLS IN LOVE

  by

  J. Sterling

  FOOLS IN LOVE

  Copyright © 2023 by J. Sterling

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited by:

  Jovana Shirley

  Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  Cover Design by:

  Michelle Preast

  www.Michelle-Preast.com

  www.facebook.com/IndieBookCovers

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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 for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945042-42-3

  Please visit the author’s website

  www.j-sterling.com

  to find out where additional versions may be purchased.

  Thank you for downloading this book.

  I hope you enjoy my Fun for the Holidays collection!

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  Other Books by J. Sterling

  Bitter Rivals- an enemies to lovers romance

  Dear Heart, I Hate You

  10 Years Later- A Second Chance Romance

  In Dreams – a new adult college romance

  Chance Encounters- a coming of age story

  The Game Series

  The Perfect Game - Book One

  The Game Changer - Book Two

  The Sweetest Game - Book Three

  The Other Game (Dean Carter) – Book Four

  The Playboy Serial

  Avoiding the Playboy- Episode #1

  Resisting the Playboy- Episode #2

  Wanting the Playboy- Episode #3

  The Celebrity Series

  Seeing Stars- Madison & Walker

  Breaking Stars- Paige & Tatum

  Losing Stars- Quinn & Ryson

  The Fisher Brothers Series

  No Bad Days – a New Adult, Second Chance Romance

  Guy Hater – an Emotional Love Story

  Adios Pantalones – a Single Mom Romance

  Happy Ending

  The Boys of Baseball

  (the next generation of fullton state baseball players):

  The Ninth Inning – Cole Anders

  Behind the Plate- Chance Carter

  Safe at First – Mac Davies

  Fun for the Holidays

  (a collection of stand-alone novels with holiday based themes)

  Kissing my Co-worker

  Dumped for Valentine’s

  My Week with the Prince

  Fools in Love

  Spring’s Second Chance

  Don’t Marry Him

  Summer Lovin’

  Flirting with Sunshine

  Falling for the Boss

  Tricked by my Ex

  The Thanksgiving Hookup

  Christmas with Saint

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  BEST AT MY JOB

  AUCTION NIGHT

  HERE GOES NOTHING

  I DON’T WANT HIM

  GREAT, JUST GREAT

  WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH HIM?

  THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM?

  IN A RESTROOM?!

  GET THIS DATE OVER WITH

  OFF TO THE FIREHOUSE

  OBLIGATION OR SOMETHING MORE

  DESSERT FOR DINNER

  SHE WAS ONTO SOMETHING

  JUMPING THE GUN

  SELF-DESTRUCT MODE ACTIVATED

  NOT FAMILY

  EPILOGUE

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  About the Author

  BEST AT MY JOB

  APRIL

  “Another satisfied customer,” I said out loud to no one in particular as I pressed on the keys of my laptop, closing out the file with the word SUCCESS stamped across it in bold red font.

  My assistant, Meredith, walked by the moment I said the words, stopping abruptly in front of my office door. “Are you adding the client notes, or do you want me to do it?”

  I looked up at her, smiling. “I got it. They’re already done.”

  “You’re a machine, April,” she complimented me before walking away to handle her own set of tasks.

  Her words made me laugh softly even though they were true. I was a freaking machine. And not only because I was the best damn matchmaker in Manhattan, but also because I absolutely loved my job. There was nothing more satisfying to me than helping two people find love in this insane city. It seemed like it should be pretty simple with everyone always hustling and bustling around outdoors the way that we did here, but it wasn’t.

  Finding someone to screw was easy.

  Finding someone to build a life with was hard.

  There were other matchmakers in the city, of course, but no one had the record that we did. Our office was so good that we didn’t even have to advertise. Everyone who came to us did so through word of mouth. I’d learned early on that when you did a good job for people and actually cared about the end result versus the money they paid you, it showed.

  And it was valued.

  My mentor and old boss, Sheila McHenry, had taught me that. She owned the company before I took over, training me in all of her ways while she groomed me, so to speak. And while she’d built up a reputation for being the best, I carried on the tradition, surpassing the old record of matched couples and new sign-ups.

  Apparently, people were growing tired of online dating, claiming that all the same individuals were on every app. They wanted hands-on help, something different that proved to work and that was where I came in.

  “April, don’t forget we have that bachelor auction later.” Meredith appeared in front of my office door, her ponytail swishing behind her shoulders as I blew out a long, annoyed breath.

  I didn’t do things like bachelor auctions. It wasn’t my forte.

  “Please tell me why we signed up to attend that again,” I sincerely said because I couldn’t for the life of me remember.

  I would have never willingly agreed to attend something like that without good cause. I wasn’t a fan of gimmicky type stuff. Especially when it came to things like single men being auctioned off for dates. It was supposed to be sexy and alluring, but I found it weird and off-putting. Even if it was usually for a charitable cause. It felt like it went against everything I stood for in my line of business.

  I took dating and love a little too seriously to be able to enjoy an auction for what it was supposed to be—a fun night with a bunch of hot, available guys who were ready and willing ... for what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I’d heard rumors about what happened between the auctioned off and the buyer, but I had no idea what was actually true or not.

  Meredith shook her head slowly, as if disappointed that I couldn’t recall. “One”—she held up a single finger—“because of the charity they chose. They’re helping all those missing people, remember? And two”—another finger—“because Sheila McHenry is the one putting it on.”

  Pressing my lips tightly together, I nodded in remembrance. It was a favor to the one person who had taught me everything I knew about matchmaking. The woman who had told me what was important and what wasn’t when it came to finding lasting love for other people.

  Sheila had told me that people often thought they knew what they wanted, but they didn’t really have a clue. She said that most thought about love within four walls of a box, and it was our job to break down the walls and think outside of them.

  When she sold me the company, she walked away, proud of what she’d built and hopeful for what I’d continue to do. But soon after leaving, she started hosting charity events. She’d quickly realized that being retired was supremely boring if she wasn’t traveling twenty-four/seven.

  “That makes sense. What time does it start, and what’s the dress code?” Even though I didn’t want to go, there was no way I’d ever tell Sheila no to something like this. I’d probably do whatever she asked me to until I took my last breath.

  Meredith walked toward my desk, holding a lone sheet of paper. “I emailed you the details. They’re in your calendar, already synced with your phone, but just in case, here’s a hard copy.”

  It was considered old-fashioned of me, but I still liked to have some things printed out. It gave me comfort in a weird way to be able to hold information instead of studying a screen for it.

  My eyes met hers. “You’re coming too, right?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “But unlike you, I’m flipping excited.”

  I
grinned. “Of course you are.”

  Meredith was fun and funny, always up for a good time, and I imagined the idea of a slew of hot, single guys was right up her alley. Not that she’d have the funds to bid on anyone, but I figured she’d enjoy the atmosphere.

  “You never know. Might meet Mr. Right tonight.” She gave me a little dance before disappearing out the door.

  “I highly doubt it,” I whispered once she was gone, not wanting to burst her bubble, but it was unlikely that an event like this one could result in a real relationship.

  That wasn’t the point of it at all.

  A one-night stand was more likely. And I wasn’t interested in that either.

  AUCTION NIGHT

  ROBBIE

  As if being a fireman wasn’t exploitive enough, here I was, about to get auctioned off at a freaking charity event I had no interest in being at. I wanted to resist, but the fire chief would have my ass if he heard that I was being a little bitch about the whole thing. I had been told to suck it up, be a fucking gentleman to whoever was desperate enough to buy me for a night, and make sure they had a good time.

  It was humiliating.

  And don’t get me wrong; I’d had plenty of action from the ladies over the years. Hell, I’d reveled in it not that long ago. Told any and every female I saw on the street how I was a fireman before asking if they wanted to slide down my pole. I know; I know, but most of them did want to slide down said pole.

  You couldn’t begin to imagine the level of attention we firemen got just because of our occupation. Women flocked to us in grocery stores, stopped by the firehouse with “treats,” flashed us while we drove the truck, and stalked us on social media. They didn’t know a damn thing about us, but none of that mattered.

  We were firemen.

  Hot. Dangerous. Men in uniform.

  But one day, it’d all changed for me, and I could pinpoint the exact moment in time when my mindset had shifted. It was after the city calendar had come out, and I was unofficially named the Fire Hottie of the Year, as my picture graced not only one of the months, but the cover as well. If I’d thought women were easy to come by before the calendar released, it was nothing compared to after.

  And I’d never been more miserable in my life than I was during that time. Every bit of attention was based on how I looked—how big my arms and shoulders were, how chiseled my jaw was, how ripped my abs were. The females of Manhattan didn’t give a shit about my mind, my interests, my hobbies, or anything else. Hell, most of them didn’t want to even have a conversation with me. All they wanted to do was be able to say they got to fuck the Fire Hottie and take a selfie or two to prove it to make their girlfriends jealous.

  All of the meaningless sex had grown old. Pointless even. And it’d made me question my worth.

  I know; I sound like a fucking female right now, but being exploited twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, online and in person, eventually took a toll on your mental health.

  Which was why I had absolutely no interest in perpetuating the shit show that was tonight’s bachelor auction. Cap could have chosen anyone else in the firehouse. He knew how much I’d struggled post-calendar publicity, so I wasn’t sure why he’d picked me out of all of the guys to do something as demeaning as this.

  But again, I wasn’t allowed to complain.

  “Ready for tonight, Mitchell?” my captain asked with a hard slap to the back.

  I suddenly wondered if he was going to be in attendance to witness my humiliation in person. Why hadn’t I thought about that before?

  I tried not to choke on the thought of him being in the audience. “Sure.”

  “Don’t sound too excited.” He frowned.

  “Oh, I am, sir. Incredibly excited to take some strange woman out for what I’m sure will be an overly romantic evening, where she’ll care about what I think instead of how I look,” I answered, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

  “Damn, Mitch,” he said, shortening my last name for emphasis. “You don’t have to be so cynical.”

  “Cap”—I reared my head back and gave him a look—“I’m going to be bought tonight. Purchased. Like cattle. Like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat to go on someone’s dinner table.”

  “There are worse ways to spend a Tuesday night. Stop being a sissy and start being thankful,” he said, his tone forceful, before he walked away.

  Thankful?!

  Thankful for what? I thought to myself.

  I wanted no part in this.

  “Hey, Cap,” I shouted, and he stopped walking, so I knew he was listening. “How’d we get sucked into this anyway?”

  I’d been here almost nine years, and we’d never participated in this kind of thing before. No one else in the firehouse had been auctioned off for charity in the past, so why were we suddenly doing it now?

  He turned around, his dark eyes meeting mine. “It’s a favor for a dear friend. You will be on your best behavior and do whatever you’re told. And I do mean, whatever. Besides, she requested you specifically.”

  “Why would she do that?” I asked, wondering if it was the curse of the calendar continuing to haunt me.

  “The hell if I know,” he said before heading upstairs.

  This was going to be the worst night ever.

  HERE GOES NOTHING

  APRIL

  I had no idea what to expect, but the event space I walked into wasn’t it. It was gorgeous—dare I say, classy even. Floral arrangements filled the room, candles were glowing, and twinkling lights dotted not only the trees that had been brought in to mimic a miniature Central Park, but they were also spread throughout all of the decor—from the multiple bars to each entryway and exit.

  There was a large stage, obviously, for the guys to eventually strut their stuff all over, and seating was set up all around for what I assumed would be a plethora of screaming women.

  Do women scream at this kind of thing?

  The chairs were pretty though with white tulle and overstuffed padding. It looked more like a high-profile wedding reception than what would be a bachelor auction. I wanted to smack myself silly. Of course this wouldn’t be some rinky-dink affair. My old boss was in charge of the event.

  Speaking of, I noticed Sheila in the distance, laughing with some ladies as she sipped what looked like a glass of white wine. Her head tilted up, and I knew the second she spotted me.

  I watched as she excused herself and started speed-walking in my direction as fast as her high heels would allow.

  “April, darling.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You look gorgeous. What do you think?” she asked, waving a hand around the room.

  “You’ve outdone yourself,” I complimented, knowing how much she thrived on words of affirmation. It was her love language. “It’s not at all what I expected.”

  Her bright blue eyes scanned my face before a grin lit up her face. “And what did you expect? Some trashy number? You know me better than that.”

  She mocked offense with her questions, but I only shook my head before responding, “I’ve never been to something like this before, so I was picturing more Magic Mike and less JFK Jr. wedding reception.”

  Her smile suddenly dropped. “I always liked that boy. Tragic, losing him that way. And those poor girls.”

  My mind instantly flashed back to all those years ago—when the city of Manhattan had mourned the loss of their golden prince. His death had cast a long shadow over the city that lasted for weeks.

  “I see you have your number.” She changed the subject, tapping the auction paddle I held at my side.

  I’d been given it upon check-in, even when I’d said it wasn’t necessary and that I didn’t need it. Apparently, everyone in attendance received one regardless of whether or not you intended to bid on a stranger.

  We had also been given a brochure, detailing each bachelor’s name, occupation, and where you got to go on your date if you were the winning bidder. I’d had no idea how planned out these things were. I’d just assumed that if you won the guy, you figured it out on the fly and did whatever you both wanted.

  Not in this day and age. No detail was left to chance. Every single aspect was meticulously prepared. Safety was the number one priority. It even said so on top of the brochure.

  “I really don’t need it.” I waved the paddle in my hand, but she smiled a little too smugly, and I wondered what she was up to.