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Bad Boyfriends, 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. Jack Windsor abandoned his university degree to do an apprenticeship as a mechanic. 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 recognises Harry from his sister’s terrible date, he almost kills him with a strawberry smoothie. In the aftermath he discovers that not only was Harry’s bad date with Mia a setup, 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, for the first time ever Harry starts to develop feelings—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? |
"Horribly Harry is sweet, funny and well written. I finished it in one sitting and the book hangover was just as sweet as the read."
- MM Romance Reviewed
- MM Romance Reviewed
An excerpt from Horribly Harry:
After his English Lit lecture, Harry stuck a ‘Housemate Wanted’ flyer on the noticeboard outside the Student Union. Tristan had said he’d put one here the other day, but there was no sign of it, and Harry didn’t know if that was because the noticeboard had already been cleared off once, or because Tristan was full of shit. He was leaning towards the latter. Tristan was easily distractible, however many times Harry had told him how important it was that they got another housemate. Mr Erskine, their incredibly elderly and doddery landlord, was pretty lax when it came to rent and other associated landlord business—like fixing the plumbing, which really shouldn’t make that banging noise when the tap in the bathroom was on—but even he wouldn’t let them slide too far behind on rent. And since Ambrose had moved out, they needed someone in as soon as possible to pay his share.
Harry missed Ambrose. He was happy that Ambrose was happy, and his boyfriend Liam was a great guy, but Ambrose had been his best mate since they’d met at their first O Week at uni, and it wasn’t the same now he’d moved out of the crumbling old terrace house in Newtown. He got on fine with Tristan, but he missed Ambrose.
He sighed and hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and headed back towards Parramatta Road and the bus stop. His route took him past the Courtyard Restaurant and Bar. The food was pretty good there, but his wallet was feeling the pinch lately, so he tried to drum up some enthusiasm for the instant noodles he had waiting for him at home.
It didn’t work but fuck it. He was going to eat them anyway, even if they tasted like MSG and sadness.
Cutting through the sunlit courtyard, he caught sight of Mia, and he brightened. Mia was cool—she’d been his first Bad Boyfriend date and she was always happy to chat with him when they spotted each other around the campus. She was sitting at a table with a blond guy who was wearing jeans and a faded Ramones T-shirt. The guy was sipping some sort of pink smoothie.
“Hi, Mia.” Harry dumped his backpack on the ground. “How’s it going?”
Mia blinked at him. “Oh, hey. Hi, how are you?”
She looked a little off, and Harry wondered if he was interrupting something. Ambrose always said he couldn’t read a room with a pair of binoculars, and he probably had a point.
“I won’t bother you,” he said. “I’m just on my way home. Great to see you though.”
“You too.” She darted a look at the blond guy.
Harry looked too.
“Hey,” the guy said. He stood up and stuck out his hand. “Jack.”
“Hey,” said Harry. He shook it. “I’m Harry.”
The guy dropped his hand, his eyes narrowing. “Harry? As in, the Harry who dated Mia?”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Um, sort of? I mean—”
But before he could say what he meant, Jack suddenly grabbed his smoothie and dumped it over his head.
Wet, Harry thought, quickly followed by cold. Then, lagging in third place, What the fuck?
“Jack!” Mia exclaimed, jumping to her feet and grabbing a paltry paper serviette to hold out to Harry as though it would make any difference at all. “Oh my God! Harry!” Then, again, she shouted, “Jack!”
Harry was aware of other people in the courtyard laughing and pointing. He was pretty sure some of them had their phones out as he stood there with pink smoothie sliding through his hair and dripping down his face and shirt.
“That’s for being an arsehole to my sister,” Jack said, “and for dumping water on my dad’s head.”
“Oh,” said Harry faintly. He swallowed and tasted strawberries. “Oh, no.”
He was growing dizzy and lightheaded. His throat itched. His tongue…
“My backpack,” he said around the sudden swelling. His heart skipped several beats as sudden, sharp fear, colder than the smoothie, flooded him. “Need…” He was slurring his words, and Mia was still holding the serviette out to him, her face creased with confusion. “Strawb’ries. Need—EpiPen.”
Harry had a moment to enjoy the sudden look of unmasked horror on Jack’s face before he stumbled to the ground, and everything went black.
After his English Lit lecture, Harry stuck a ‘Housemate Wanted’ flyer on the noticeboard outside the Student Union. Tristan had said he’d put one here the other day, but there was no sign of it, and Harry didn’t know if that was because the noticeboard had already been cleared off once, or because Tristan was full of shit. He was leaning towards the latter. Tristan was easily distractible, however many times Harry had told him how important it was that they got another housemate. Mr Erskine, their incredibly elderly and doddery landlord, was pretty lax when it came to rent and other associated landlord business—like fixing the plumbing, which really shouldn’t make that banging noise when the tap in the bathroom was on—but even he wouldn’t let them slide too far behind on rent. And since Ambrose had moved out, they needed someone in as soon as possible to pay his share.
Harry missed Ambrose. He was happy that Ambrose was happy, and his boyfriend Liam was a great guy, but Ambrose had been his best mate since they’d met at their first O Week at uni, and it wasn’t the same now he’d moved out of the crumbling old terrace house in Newtown. He got on fine with Tristan, but he missed Ambrose.
He sighed and hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and headed back towards Parramatta Road and the bus stop. His route took him past the Courtyard Restaurant and Bar. The food was pretty good there, but his wallet was feeling the pinch lately, so he tried to drum up some enthusiasm for the instant noodles he had waiting for him at home.
It didn’t work but fuck it. He was going to eat them anyway, even if they tasted like MSG and sadness.
Cutting through the sunlit courtyard, he caught sight of Mia, and he brightened. Mia was cool—she’d been his first Bad Boyfriend date and she was always happy to chat with him when they spotted each other around the campus. She was sitting at a table with a blond guy who was wearing jeans and a faded Ramones T-shirt. The guy was sipping some sort of pink smoothie.
“Hi, Mia.” Harry dumped his backpack on the ground. “How’s it going?”
Mia blinked at him. “Oh, hey. Hi, how are you?”
She looked a little off, and Harry wondered if he was interrupting something. Ambrose always said he couldn’t read a room with a pair of binoculars, and he probably had a point.
“I won’t bother you,” he said. “I’m just on my way home. Great to see you though.”
“You too.” She darted a look at the blond guy.
Harry looked too.
“Hey,” the guy said. He stood up and stuck out his hand. “Jack.”
“Hey,” said Harry. He shook it. “I’m Harry.”
The guy dropped his hand, his eyes narrowing. “Harry? As in, the Harry who dated Mia?”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Um, sort of? I mean—”
But before he could say what he meant, Jack suddenly grabbed his smoothie and dumped it over his head.
Wet, Harry thought, quickly followed by cold. Then, lagging in third place, What the fuck?
“Jack!” Mia exclaimed, jumping to her feet and grabbing a paltry paper serviette to hold out to Harry as though it would make any difference at all. “Oh my God! Harry!” Then, again, she shouted, “Jack!”
Harry was aware of other people in the courtyard laughing and pointing. He was pretty sure some of them had their phones out as he stood there with pink smoothie sliding through his hair and dripping down his face and shirt.
“That’s for being an arsehole to my sister,” Jack said, “and for dumping water on my dad’s head.”
“Oh,” said Harry faintly. He swallowed and tasted strawberries. “Oh, no.”
He was growing dizzy and lightheaded. His throat itched. His tongue…
“My backpack,” he said around the sudden swelling. His heart skipped several beats as sudden, sharp fear, colder than the smoothie, flooded him. “Need…” He was slurring his words, and Mia was still holding the serviette out to him, her face creased with confusion. “Strawb’ries. Need—EpiPen.”
Harry had a moment to enjoy the sudden look of unmasked horror on Jack’s face before he stumbled to the ground, and everything went black.