Page 3 of Insta Bride
“My hard limits?” I looked around, pretending to consider the question. “Hmm, all positions are on the table, up against a wall, occasionally in a bed.”
“You know what I mean,” Jess chided. “Hard limits. What won’t you date?”
“That’s easy. I will not date lying, cheating assholes. I will not fall in love with lying, cheating assholes. I will not be lied to, or cheated on, by assholes.” I ticked each one off my fingers to their laughs. After my ex, did my friends expect anything different?
“So, beard or no beard?” Jess asked.
“Don’t care.”
“Long hair or short?” Tash followed up.
“Don’t care.”
“Tattoo’s?”
“As long as they’re not of his current girlfriend, I’m okay.”
“So basically, no lying, no cheating and no assholes.” My friends did the exaggerated ticking off the countdown on their fingers while I laughed and ordered another round of drinks.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried before offering over my credit card. This round was on me.
I didn’t believe reality TV would offer my path to love, but at least it wouldn’t be boring.
Love Isn’t Real
Australian Love Story Cast Leaks
Sources tell me that Australia’s newest sweetheart might have melted the heart of a dedicated ladies’ man. Can our sexy man about town settle down with one woman?
Who will last and who would rather swim home through sharks than spend another night with their chosen love?
You’ll read it here first. This is Danielle Stone from Wake Up Australia.
Kye Branson
“What?” I tried not to snap at the caller. My managing partner hadn’t been impressed when I’d left a meeting to take the call. He’d be even less impressed if I got good news.
“Is that the way to talk to your favorite lady?”
“Bree, you know what you’ve got to do to earn favored lady status.”
“Oh, Kye. Is that the way to talk to the woman you’ll be spending a month on a tropical island with?”
Fuck. Yeah. Fuck yeah.
“I haven’t gotten a call back.” I silently fist pumped the air to the curious looks through the glass wall. Let them think I scored a major client. I’d score a hell of a lot more if this panned out.
“You’ll be getting an email later today,” Bree said, “Inviting you to a mixer with the shortlisted men and women. For you, it’s a formality. They loved your whole, just got out of bed and left three women satisfied, look. Just don’t cut the dirty blonde hair and don’t lose the abs. For others, they need to stand out. The producers will want to see chemistry and connections before contestants get paired up.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Oh, Kye, I want you to do me. On repeat,” Bree sniggered, and I tried not to cringe. We’d had our flirting. We’d had our weekend. She knew I didn’t do repeats. I’d given her the best time of her life, and she was about to return the favor.
“Bree—” I moaned her name, “Be a good girl and tell me what I need to do to get on your show.”
“With a voice like that, just be yourself. You’ll be playing the part of the male-whore asshole. Dress to stand out, and then play the room. Don’t let yourself get tied to any one woman.”
“I never do.”