Only When It’s Love
Holding Out For Mr Right
Olivia Spring
Hartley Publishing
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Find out more at the end of Only When It’s Love.
First Edition: February 2019
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Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Spring
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and happenings in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead, locales or events is purely coincidental.
www.oliviaspring.com
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Follow Olivia on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram: @ospringauthor
Dedicated to my wonderful mum and dad.
Contents
Chapter 1
Two weeks later…
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
September
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
March
Chapter 25
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An extract from Love Offline
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Never again.
Why, why, why did I keep on doing this?
I felt great for a few minutes, or if I was lucky, hours, but then, when it was all over, I ended up feeling like shit for days. Sometimes weeks.
I must stop torturing myself.
Repeat after me:
I, Alexandra Adams, will not answer Connor Matthew’s WhatsApp messages, texts or phone calls for the rest of my life.
I firmly declare that even if Connor says his whole world is falling apart, that he’s sorry, he’s realised I’m the one and he’s changed, I will positively, absolutely, unequivocally not reply.
Nor will I end up going to his flat because I caved in after he sent me five million messages saying he misses me and inviting me round just ‘to talk’.
And I definitely do solemnly swear that I will not end up on my back with my legs wrapped around his neck within minutes of arriving, because I took one look at his body and couldn’t resist.
No.
That’s it.
No more.
I will be strong. I will be like iron. Titanium. Steel. All three welded into one.
I will block Connor once and for all and I will move on with my life.
Yes!
I exhaled.
Finally I’d found my inner strength.
This was the start of a new life for me. A new beginning. Where I wouldn’t get screwed over by yet another fuckboy. Where I wouldn’t get ghosted or dumped. Where I took control of my life and stuck my middle finger up at the men who treated me like shit. Here’s to the new me.
My phone chimed.
It was Connor.
I bolted upright in bed and clicked on his message.
He couldn’t stop thinking about me. He wanted to see me again.
Tonight.
To talk. About our future.
Together.
This could be it!
Things had felt kind of different last time. Like there was a deeper connection.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he had changed…
I excitedly typed out a reply.
My fingers hovered over the blue button, ready to send.
Hello?
What the hell was I doing?
It was like the entire contents of my pep talk two seconds ago had just evaporated from my brain.
Remember being strong like iron, titanium and steel and resisting the temptations of Connor?
Shit.
This was going to be much harder than I’d thought.
Two weeks later…
Chapter Two
‘Morning, Stacey,’ I said, entering the kitchen.
‘Morning, Alex!’ she replied as she poured hot water into her mug. Stacey looked lovely as always, wearing a pair of wide emerald-green trousers and a simple white T-shirt with her blond hair resting on her shoulders. ‘Coffee?’
‘You read my mind.’ I plonked myself down on the silver stool in front of the charcoal breakfast bar, unbuttoned my navy trench coat, then smoothed down my high-waisted grey pencil skirt. I really should’ve gone straight to my desk first so that my boss Steve could see that I’d arrived on time, but I couldn’t function without coffee.
‘Love your hair!’
‘Thanks!’ I said, pleased that Stacey had noticed whilst also wincing inside as I remembered how much it had cost to have my long chocolate extensions reapplied at the salon on Saturday.
‘So, how was your weekend?’
‘Hmmm…’ I sighed. ‘Could have been better.’
‘Oh no!’ Stacey pulled a stool closer to me and sat down. ‘Why? What happened?’
‘Think I’ve been ghosted again,’ I said, rolling my brown eyes.
‘Shit, sorry to hear that. I remember that feeling. It’s awful.’
‘Yep. Happens every single time I meet someone. If they’re not ghosting me, then they’re benching me whilst they continue shopping around on dating apps.’
‘I remember that too.’
‘You’re married now, though, aren’t you?’
‘Yes!’ Stacey grinned wildly. ‘To the man of my dreams! We just celebrated our first anniversary!’
Lucky lady, I thought. At this rate, it’d be a miracle for me to celebrate one month with a guy, never mind one year. And here was Stacey, all loved up.
‘Congratulations! Both on meeting your soul mate and leaving the depressing dating world behind.’
‘Thanks! He really is amazing. Sorry! I don’t mean to sound smug, especially when you’re going through such a shitty time. Just because I’m happily married now doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it’s like. I used to have terrible luck with men. However rubbish you think you are at dating, I bet that I was ten times worse.’
‘Impossible!’ I said, slamming my mug down in protest.
‘Believe me…’ Her green eyes widened. ‘I have a back catalogue of experiences that will make your hair curl.’
‘Oh, I doubt that. I’ve got enough stories of disappointing dates to fill a hundred encyclopaedias,’ I huffed. ‘I just don’t get it. I meet a guy online, we have a nice date, we’re getting on well, we sleep together, the sex is good, it feels like we have chemistry, and then afterwards they either don’t call at all, or they come round a few more times
and I never hear from them again. Nothing. I try calling and texting but zilch. It’s like they’ve disappeared off the face of the earth. Except for the zombies like Connor.’
‘So tell me about this Connor. He sounds like an arsehole.’
‘He is,’ I sighed. ‘We date, he disappears like a bloody ghost, I spend ages wondering what I did to upset him. A few months later, just at the point where I’m about to get over him, he rises from the dead, messages me as if nothing ever happened, and suggests we “meet up”. Each time I swear blind that I won’t reply, and to my shame, I do. I always say it’s the last time. Then I find myself remembering how great the sex was, and I wind up back in bed with him and back to square one.’
‘Nightmare!’ said Stacey, topping up my mug as if to console me.
‘Tell me about it.’ I bowed my head. It was so embarrassing to say it out loud. Especially to someone else. Stacey didn’t make me feel judged, though. She was really easy to talk to.
Although she’d only joined my sales team at our trade publishing and exhibitions management company a couple of weeks ago, we’d instantly hit it off. You know when you talk to someone and it’s like you’ve known them for years? That was the feeling I’d had when we were introduced on her first day, and we’d been having our morning catch-ups ever since.
With its bright white walls and matching tiles, the kitchen was a nice space and ideal for chats, but there was only really room to accommodate a few people at a time. Normally if our colleagues saw us nattering away, they’d leave us alone or come in and out quickly, which suited us just fine, especially when we were having conversations like these. Our boss Steve wasn’t so accommodating. Whenever he found us in here, he’d always order us back to our desks. Spoilsport.
‘What I’m interested to know is what changed for you? How did you go from Ms Dating Disaster like me to Mrs Married and all loved up?’
‘Do you really want to know?’ she said, checking the door to see if anyone was hovering outside.
‘Of course I do!’ I said, throwing my hands in the air. ‘Then again, I suppose you’re going to spout a load of clichés and tell me that you were just lucky and to hang on in there like everyone else does. Or that my soul mate will knock on my door whenever the time is right and that you can’t control these things.’
‘No, actually, Alex, I wasn’t. What if I told you that I believe that there is a way to find your Mr Right and that there is a guaranteed, sure-fire way to stop all this agonising, heartbreak, benching, zombieing and everything else?’
‘I would tell you, Stacey, that you’re the world’s biggest liar!’ I scoffed. ‘That where there are men and where there is dating, agonising, heartbreak, overthinking and feeling like shit automatically follow. And that’s one hundred percent guaranteed!’
‘I thought that might be your response.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Maybe when you’ve been ghosted and let down a few more hundred times, you might be ready to listen to my suggestion.’
‘What? No! Tell me!’ I pleaded. ‘I want to know now! And there’s no way I can bear to be ghosted and let down again. I’m already a mess. If I have to endure much more of this, I’ll have a nervous breakdown. Seriously: it’s got to that stage. I’m willing to try anything.’
‘Anything?’ She raised her eyebrow.
‘Yes! Actually…’ I rested my finger on my chin. ‘When you say anything, what sort of thing are we talking here? I’m not into anything too kinky…’
‘Oh no! No need to worry about that. What I’m suggesting doesn’t involve any kinky sex, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ she whispered.
‘Phew!’ I pretended to wipe imaginary sweat from my forehead. ‘Well, then, sign me up!’
‘In fact, it doesn’t involve any sex at all.’
‘Oh right, cool! Hold on…’ I frowned. ‘When you say it doesn’t involve any sex at all, do you mean it just involves straight vanilla sex?’
‘No, no. I mean exactly what I said: if you want a guaranteed way to avoid heartache and all the other stuff that comes with dating, and you really want to find your Mr Right, then the answer is simple. Just don’t have sex with them.’
My mind raced. She was confusing me.
‘You mean not on the first date?’ I scratched my head and took another gulp of coffee. Maybe I wasn’t fully awake yet.
‘Not on the first date, or the second, or the tenth or the twentieth…’
‘Sorry, what? Twentieth? Wait a second…’ I held my hands out and started counting my fingers. ‘Let’s say we have two dates a week. That’s eight dates a month. Sixteen dates is two months, so twenty dates is two and a half months. Are you crazy? Not sleeping with a guy for two and a half months?’
‘Actually, try six…’ said Stacey.
‘Six? Six what? Six months? Not having sex for six months? Have you lost your mind! That’s impossible. That’s stupid. That’s torture! I mean, what guy in their right mind will wait six months to have sex with me?’ I really should have kept my voice down in case someone walked past and overheard our conversation, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘What am I even saying? What guy would even wait six weeks—in fact, six days? Especially when it’s a miracle if we make it past six hours before hitting the sack.’
‘And therein lies the problem.’
‘Stacey, I don’t know what the men you know are like, but if I ever suggested that to the guys I meet, they would laugh in my face. It’s a crazy idea! It would never work.’
‘Worked for me.’
‘What?’ My mouth dropped open. ‘Are you honestly telling me that you didn’t sleep with your now husband for six months?’
‘Yep. That’s right.’
‘How? Why? What? Is he religious? Did you hypnotise him? Do you have a vagina made from solid gold? I don’t get it!’
‘Nope, he’s not religious, and no to everything else you asked.’
‘Well, then, none of what you’re saying makes any sense!’
‘I get that too. When I first heard about it, my reaction was exactly the same as yours. I didn’t believe it was possible. That a guy would wait that long for me. That I could break the cycle. But then I read the book. And then it all made sense.’
‘The book?’
‘Yep. The book. It’s the holy grail. An awakening. Like a bible for every single woman going through what you are now and what I was going through less than two years ago. I read it after I met another girl who recommended it to me, after a conversation much like the one you and I are having now.’
‘So there are other women who have followed this advice too?’
‘Yes! Thousands all over the world. It works!’ she said, tapping away on her phone. ‘There! I’ve sent you the link. Go online right now and order it. Once you’ve read it, let me know and I’ll help you. This book changed my life, and I want to help you do the same. Try it. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t quite say that I’ve got nothing to lose. Six months without any nookie seems like plenty. My happiness for a start.’
‘And you’re happy now, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that two minutes ago, you were telling me that you were feeling miserable after being ghosted for the millionth time.’
‘True…but six months?’
‘Yep. Look, at least read the book. Then you can decide for yourself. See if it’s for you. If not, then just go back to your cycle of disappointment…’
‘Good evening, ladies,’ bellowed Steve. He stood at the door, folding his arms above his round stomach, which looked like it could burst out from under his dreary brown shirt at any second. ‘I think you’ll find that work started seven minutes ago. It’s best if you arrive by eight-fifty a.m. Then you’ll be all set up and ready to go by nine. Like I always say, if you’re on time, you’re already ten minutes late. Which means you’re seventeen minutes late. Ooops! Actually, make that eighteen minutes and two seconds. Chop-chop! Remember, the early bird catches the worm.�
�
‘Coming, Steve!’ I said, feigning enthusiasm. ‘We’re just grabbing a coffee and then we’ll be in.’
‘Forget coffee! Time to seize the day. At your desks, ladies. Come, come. I’ll walk you there,’ he said, ushering us out of the door with his hands.
Honestly. You’d think we were schoolchildren rather than adult employees. I picked up my coat and bag, and Stacey followed beside me clutching her mug.
‘Don’t forget,’ she whispered. ‘Order the book when you get to your desk.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, having absolutely no intention of doing so.
I was glad Stacey believed that this book had helped her find her husband, but I certainly wasn’t going to bother with it. Especially if it involved no sex for six months.
Nope. No way.
Each to their own, but I had better things to spend my money and time on. Hell would freeze over before I agreed to read a single page.
Chapter Three
This was my happy place.
Tucked up under the duvet, in my fluffy pink pyjamas, glass of rosé (preferably White Zinfandel) in hand, about to watch a romcom with Cuddles snuggled up beside me.
Cuddles was my adorable British Shorthair cat. I found her at the rescue centre nearly a year ago and instantly fell in love. As her name suggested, she’d been great at giving me hugs whenever I was lonely or feeling down about life in general, but usually about men, as they caused me the most heartache. Stroking her soft blue-grey fur was instantly calming, and she’d been brilliant at keeping me company in the evenings and making me feel like everything would be okay.
Only When It's Love: A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel: Holding Out For Mr Right Page 1
