Horribly Harry by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey
Book 2 in the Bad Boyfriends, Inc. series
General Release Date: 9th August 2022
Word Count: 65,288
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 253
Genres:
COMEDY AND HUMOUR,CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,FAKE RELATIONSHIPS,GAY,GLBTQI
Add to Goodreads
Book Description
Bad Boyfriend, Inc—when you can’t find a good boyfriend, why not hire a bad one instead?
To supplement his income while he’s completing his Early Education degree, Harry Townsend hires himself out as a terrible date—for a set fee, he’ll horrify parents and family members in all sorts of interesting ways. But when it comes to actual relationships—and sex—Harry doesn’t get the appeal. He doesn’t get the same tingly feelings everyone else seems to when they meet someone attractive, and he’s fine with that. He’d rather spend his evenings watching TV anyway.
Jack Windsor abandoned his uni degree to do an apprenticeship as a mechanic, much to his parents’ dismay. He’s happy with his choices, but leaving uni meant losing his accommodation, and now he’s crashing on his sister Mia’s couch. It isn’t ideal, but it’s only until he finds something else—which is proving difficult in Sydney’s brutal rental market.
When Jack almost kills Harry with a strawberry smoothie, he discovers that not only was Harry’s disastrous date with Mia a set up, but that Harry is looking for a roommate. Moving in with Harry is great, if only he wasn’t so distractingly cute—and totally uninterested in Jack. Except as they grow closer as friends, for the first time in his life, Harry tells Jack he’s developing feelings for him—tingly ones.
But how can Harry and Jack be together when Jack’s family thinks that Harry is the worst human being in the universe? And how can Jack convince them that his Bad Boyfriend is the best boyfriend he’s ever had, without admitting that Mia hired him to be terrible to them? When an approaching family event brings everything to a head, Jack’s going to have to step up to prove to Harry that he wants him in his life. And it might just take some bad timing, some good luck and the ugliest suit known to mankind.
Harry didn’t remember going to bed. He squinted at the open door when he woke up. He also didn’t ever sleep with his door open, because Tristan was loud, and so were the guys he picked up. Tristan said that just meant they were doing it right. Harry just wished they could do it a bit more quietly. Except this morning he wasn’t waking up to a series of moans and grunts and groans that would put a warthog to shame. This morning he could hear, from downstairs, the sounds of a conversation.
He climbed out of bed, noting he was still wearing his jeans and his Hawaiian shirt. He shuffled out into the hallway and put a hand on the wall as he was going downstairs because he still felt a little dizzy.
The lights were on in the kitchen and the living room. The voices were coming from the kitchen. Harry rounded the corner and stared at the sight. Tristan and a guy in a sparkly silver crop top were sitting at the wonky little table, and Jack was at the stovetop, cooking something. Something that smelled much better than it had any right to, especially if he’d found the ingredients in their fridge.
“Hey! There he is!” Tristan exclaimed. “How are you feeling, Harry?”
Harry grunted.
“This is Matt,” Tristan said.
“Max,” the guy in the silver crop top corrected.
“Max,” Tristan repeated with an airy laugh like it didn’t matter. He had a crazy knack of not being punched in the face despite doing shit like forgetting the names of his hook-ups before they’d even left. Even Max was smiling back at him like it was no big deal. Harry could only assume Tristan had charmed him with his dick. It was a talent of his, apparently.
Jack turned, spatula in hand, and waved it in his direction. “Hey, are you feeling any better? You went downhill pretty fast last night.”
“Um, yeah,” Harry rasped, throat dry. “I don’t remember much once we got home.”
Jack filled a glass of water and handed it to him, and Harry drained it quickly, the water a relief on his parched throat.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I stayed in your spare room. I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”
Huh. That was…unexpectedly nice. Especially given that the spare room only had a crappy old double bed that sagged and squeaked, and the sheets hadn’t been changed since Ambrose had moved out. Now that he thought about it, Harry wasn’t even sure there were any sheets.
“Thanks,” he said. Jack smiled at him, his face lighting up with relief. Harry hadn’t seen Jack smile before now, and it was a good look on him. He smiled back.
“Jack’s making omelettes, because he’s a god among men,” Tristan declared.
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Since when do we have eggs?”
“Since Jack went and bought some,” Tristan said. “Isn’t it great? He’s going to be an awesome housemate.”
Harry shook his head to make sure he’d heard correctly. “He’s what?”
Tristan grinned broadly. “Well, you said we needed a new housemate, and Jack saw the flyer and asked me about it, and I said yes. So, that’s that problem all sorted out.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Tris! He almost killed me yesterday!”
“Almost! I only almost killed you!” Jack protested, then paused. “Shit,” he said with a sigh. “That doesn’t really sound any better, does it?”
Max watched silently, his mouth open and his mascara-rimmed eyes wide, as though he’d stumbled onto the set of an exciting soap opera.
“It’s not Jack’s fault you have a dangerous job,” Tristan said. Then, to Max, he said, “Harry is an escort.”
Max gasped.
“I am not an—” Harry groaned. “Okay, technically I am, but it’s not how it sounds!”
“He’s a terrible date, except it’s deliberate,” Tristan supplied. “People pay good money for him to be completely awful. He’s really good at it. He’s been banned from—how many restaurants is it now?”
Harry scowled at him. He wasn’t feeling nearly well enough for Tristan’s particular brand of bullshit. “Only one,” he grumbled, but then he stopped and thought. “Okay, two—but only if you count that karaoke bar.”
Max wrinkled his nose. “Why would anyone want a terrible date?”
“Actually…” Harry said, then had nowhere to go with that.
“Actually,” Jack said, and darted a glance at him, “it’s sort of brilliant.”
Harry did not feel a warm glow in his chest at the unexpected praise. He did not.
“Except when it leads to getting assaulted by your client’s idiot brother,” Jack added. “With a smoothie it turns out you’re massively allergic to.”
Max’s eyes grew wide, and Harry had the feeling that he’d be dining out on this story for weeks—which reminded him. “You can’t tell anyone I’m a bad date for hire,” he said. “It’ll wipe out my client base, and then Tristan will need another new housemate because I’ll be penniless.”
Max nodded and mimed zipping his lip. Tristan rewarded him with a kiss.
Harry looked away, vaguely uncomfortable. He’d never quite gotten the appeal of kissing. Or one-night stands. Or any night stands, really. “So, omelettes?” he said, addressing Jack.
Jack nodded. “Eggs, and cheese, tomato and spinach. Cooked with margarine, because that’s all you had.” He hesitated. “You’re not allergic to any of those are you?”
It was a fair question, Harry guessed. Jack probably thought he was one of those people who had to live on air and water and possibly kale. “Nah, just strawberries. So far, anyway.”
Jack smiled again as he slid an omelette onto a plate and handed it to him. Harry decided that, inadvertent assassination attempt notwithstanding, Jack might not be completely terrible, because breakfast looked fucking delicious.
* * * *
Jack, it turned out, could move in straight away, since he was couch surfing at Mia’s. Something about losing his room at the uni because he’d dropped out—Harry’s head was still slightly fuzzy, so he hadn’t really grasped the details. He was too busy enjoying a meal that someone else had cooked that didn’t end in him getting slapped, insulted or asked to leave.
His own cooking skills were limited to add boiling water and microwave on high for three to five minutes, and Tristan wasn’t much better, but Jack had managed to tame their temperamental stovetop with the dodgy burner enough to produce actual food that was not only edible, but actually enjoyable. Harry thought that if Tristan hadn’t already offered, he might have invited Jack to stay on that basis alone, but it got better, because Jack was willing to pay rent in advance. He even asked them if there was a bank account he should put his rent into, as though that wasn’t what the old Milo tin in the kitchen was for. Except the old Milo tin also turned out to be for emergency groceries and beer, which probably explained why he and Tristan had spent rent day last month digging through the couch cushions looking for spare change before Tristan had managed to produce some stray cash from somewhere. Harry hadn’t been game to ask where.
Jack went to get his stuff from Mia’s, and Harry settled down on the couch to watch TV for a while. He didn’t have any tutorials today, only lectures, so he wasn’t going to bother going to uni. He’d nearly died, after all. That rated a day off. Just one, though, he decided reluctantly. He had a placement coming up next month, and he wanted to be prepared. Some people still thought he was weird for wanting to be a preschool teacher, but Harry didn’t care. He loved kids and wanted to work with them, always had, and he was happy with his choices.
Tristan left for uni and took Max with him. Harry doubted he’d see Max again. Tristan had a type, and that type was Teflon. And in all fairness to Tris, they all seemed to part as friends. They’d run into a few of his previous one-night stands before—it was statistically impossible not to, even in a city of over five million people—and it had never been uncomfortable. Harry had no idea how Tris did it, but, however it was, he did it over and over and over again.
Harry had never had a one-night stand. He’d never even had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. And when he tried to picture someone in his life, he didn’t even have a go-to gender in mind. Sex just seemed…unnecessary? To him, at least. From the way Tristan wailed and moaned some nights, it was clearly fucking vital and incredibly urgent that someone fuck him “harder, now, harder, there, oh God!”
Harry should probably get some earplugs at some point. Or a gag for Tristan. Although, judging from some of the things he’d heard through the paper-thin walls, Tristan might enjoy that.
Harry wondered if Jack was also the type to bring company home. If he was, Harry might have to invest in some of that soundproofing stuff he could stick to the walls. He wasn’t sure he could handle two Tristans in the house.
Jack didn’t seem like that type, though. He didn’t give off that certain unmistakable vibe that Tristan did that suggested to all and sundry that he was—well, Harry hesitated to use the word slutty, even in his own head. Just because sex wasn’t his thing didn’t mean there was anything wrong with Tristan being a…hedonist. Yes, he decided. That was a suitable word for what Tristan was. And what Harry wasn’t, in any way, shape or form. Jack was back within two hours, and Harry watched from the couch as he went up and down the stairs a few times with boxes and bags. He wondered if Ambrose’s old house key was still in the bottom of the Milo tin and got up to check. He felt a lot better than he had yesterday, but he was still tired. He found Ambrose’s old key under the rent money in the tin and dug it out to give to Jack.
Jack joined him in the kitchen.
“So, house rules,” Harry said, handing the key over.
Jack nodded seriously.
“Um…don’t steal shit, don’t be a total dickhead and pay the rent,” Harry said. He shrugged. “That’s it, really.”
“Is there a housework roster?”
Harry looked at the grimy floor. “Does it look like there’s a housework roster?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “It looks like there should be.”
“Yeah, well, good luck getting the broom off the roof,” Harry said.
“Why is the broom on the roof?”
“Because we can’t get it down, obviously.”
“But…why is it there?” Jack looked like someone who was seriously questioning his life choices right now.
“House party,” Harry said.
“That doesn’t answer the question though.”
“It doesn’t not answer it.” Harry shrugged. “I was drunk. I don’t remember. And it was three weeks before we missed it, so.” He shrugged again. “Clean if it makes you feel better, but you’ll only have to do it again a month later, so it seems like a waste of time to me.”
He watched Jack mouth the words a month to himself, his expression halfway between horrified and awed. It was almost endearing.
Jack took a deep breath. “Okay. No being a dickhead, no stealing and pay the rent on time. Got it. I just need to bring the TV in and I’m done.”
Harry perked up at that. “What TV?” They were currently the owners of an ancient sixteen-inch set that lost sound sporadically. It was a remnant of housemates past.
“It’s not that fancy,” Jack said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s newer than yours, so it’ll stream Netflix.”
“Netflix?” Okay, Harry hadn’t meant his voice to come out all high and squeaky like that, but this was a serious development.
Jack grinned. “Yeah. It’s my one luxury.”
“Our one luxury,” Harry said, grinning right back.
“Yeah. Ours.”
This, Harry, decided, might just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Buy Links
Choose Your Store
First For Romance
Amazon
Lisa Henry
Lisa likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.
Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.
She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.
Lisa has been published since 2012, and was a LAMBDA finalist for her quirky, awkward coming-of-age romance Adulting 101, and a Rainbow Awards finalist for 2019’s Anhaga.
Find out more at Lisa’s website and blog. You can follow her on Bookbub and sign up to her newsletter.
Sarah Honey
Sarah started life in New Zealand. She came to Australia for a working holiday, loved it, and never left. She lives in Western Australia with her partner, two cats, two dogs and a life-size replica TARDIS.
She spends half her time at a day job and the rest of her time reading and writing about clueless men falling in love.
Her proudest achievements include having adult kids who will still be seen with her in public, the ability to make a decent sourdough loaf, and knowing all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody.
Awfully Ambrose will be her fifth published novel in collaboration with Lisa Henry.
Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
