Perfect 10

Perfect 10
Erin McCarthy

Katrina’s Lesson in Social Media Disasters or How Technology Can Bite You in the A**Katrina Phillips is an expert social media manager. But that doesn’t mean she can’t make mistakes. Horrible, hide-in-your-closet-forever mistakes…like accidentally syncing her BootyBook app with her online profiles.Blammo. Now everyone in the world can see who Katrina has dated and how they rated in appearance, sexual performance and (OMG) detailed descriptions of their manly parts! Now her phone is blowing up with angry exes—and an out-of-the-blue text from the only guy who came close to a perfect score….Katrina has had a thing for Drew Jordan since forever ago, even if a booze-fuelled one-nighter did destroy their friendship. So why is he suddenly texting her now—and is it because she rated his Sexy Staff of Manliness as “magnificent?” Now the only way to satisfy her curiosity is to reunite with Drew…and rate him all over again!

Katrina’s Lesson in Social Media Disasters

or How Technology Can Bite You in the A**

Katrina Phillips is an expert social media manager. But that doesn’t mean she can’t make mistakes. Horrible, hide-in-your-closet-forever mistakes...like accidentally syncing her BootyBook app with her online profiles.

Blammo. Now everyone in the world can see who Katrina has dated and how they rated in appearance, sexual performance and (OMG) detailed descriptions of their manly parts! Now her phone is blowing up with angry exes—and an out-of-the-blue text from the only guy who came close to a perfect score....

Katrina has had a thing for Drew Jordan since forever ago, even if a booze-fuelled one-nighter did destroy their friendship. So why is he suddenly texting her now—and is it because she rated his Sexy Staff of Manliness as “magnificent”? Now the only way to satisfy her curiosity is to reunite with Drew...and rate him all over again!

Dear Reader,

I would say most of us have had a technology fail that resulted in an awkward moment. Personally I sent a mildly sexy email meant for my husband to a coworker, and I still couldn’t tell you how I did it! It was an email mystery. Or worse, my friend who sent a sexy selfie to her ex-father-in-law who has the same first name as her boyfriend. He was a good sport about it, telling her she looked great, and they had a laugh. But what if the fail was greater than that? What if your private feelings and whole sexual history got posted online?

That’s what I decided to put my heroine, Katrina, through. Not only does every guy she has dated know what she thought of him, good or bad, her best friend turned one night stand, Drew Jordan, sees what she wrote about him—which is more than a little revealing. But maybe a social media snafu is just the thing to reveal even more....

I hope you enjoy my story and always check twice before hitting send! You can find me at www.erinmccarthy.net (http://www.erinmccarthy.net).

Happy reading!

Erin

Perfect 10

Erin McCarthy

Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women.

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon

www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA TODAY and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written almost fifty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult and adult romance. Erin has a special weakness for tattoos, karaoke, high-heeled boots and martinis. She lives on the shores of Lake Erie in Ohio with her family, her cat and her stylish and well-dressed Chihuahua/terrier mix.

Contents

Chapter One (#u983cffeb-3cf6-5c63-8116-084157985ab8)

Chapter Two (#uba06c4ef-b555-556e-a368-4a560535fa81)

Chapter Three (#ueaad70b5-5c89-5240-9596-1148bfc323a6)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

OMG. Are you insane????

Katrina Phillips glanced at the text from her best friend, Samantha, and ignored it. She didn’t have time for drama. She was on the subway and she was late posting the Deal of the Day for one of her clients, Mind & Body Yoga, on all of its social networking sites. She really should have at least gone through the tutorial on her new phone, but she’d figured it was a phone, not a plane. She’d had a dozen previous smartphones, each one simpler to figure out than the preceding model.

Except for this one. All her apps and contacts and data had transferred, but it seemed to be doing some sort of internal knitting together of every individual account she had, weaving them into one lumpy, messy pile of informational yarn. Which reminded her. She had to tell the knitting club she’d joined on a whim that she was quitting. She sucked at knitting.

Only she couldn’t do that because she couldn’t figure her damn phone out.

Her phone dinged again and it was a text from Bryan, a guy she’d gone out with twice who had agreed that they’d split the check for cocktails, then had managed to slide the change into his pocket when she wasn’t looking, stiffing her five bucks. Why would he be contacting her after two months of mutual avoidance?

Bitch.

Well. Good thing he’d bothered to get that off his chest. Annoyed, she deleted the text. Only to have another one replace it.

Hey, baby, wassup? Long time no talk.

O-kay. That was Dirk, a hookup from the year before. Hot, funny, great in bed. Not one to call the next day, as she’d found out. Why would he be crawling out of the woodwork?

Along with James, whom she’d dated for two months.

And Seth.

And Michael.

The texts and emails rolled in, one right after the other, like a This is Your Sex Life retrospective, and she thought OMG was about right. This could not be a coincidence. Alarmed, she shifted on her plastic seat, the coughs of the other passengers and the rumble of the train louder than she was used to. She wasn’t studiously ignoring everyone with her earbuds in as she usually did, because she couldn’t use her phone. And had she mentioned she couldn’t figure out her phone?

Why? She texted Samantha, suddenly very, very concerned.

Go to your profile.

Uh-oh.

It took her an agonizing minute to figure out how to bypass all the initial demands her phone was making of her. Honestly, it was worse than her mother and no, she would not like the GPS enabled right this second, she freaking knew where she was. But when she finally got to her profile and saw what exactly her glorious little piece of electronics had synced, she wanted a GPS to guide her to the nearest hole to crawl her hipster ass into and die.

Her BootyBook app had synced with her personal page.

Now every detail about every guy that she had logged in to her handy, and slightly tawdry, app equivalent of a little black book was now visible to everyone. Including ratings on their manners, clothes, conversation during the date, and yes, their penis size if she had hooked up with him. Along with whether or not she’d had an orgasm, the quality of foreplay, and her overall general impression of his sexual prowess.