Chelsea Cameron - My Favourite Mistake

www.miraink.co.uk

Two secrets.

One bet.

Who will break first?

Taylor Caldwell can’t decide if she wants to kiss her new college roommate or punch him.

On the one hand, Hunter Zaccadelli is a handsome, blue-eyed bundle of charm. On the other, he’s a tattooed, guitar-playing bundle of bad boy. Maybe that’s why Taylor’s afraid of falling in love with him, or anyone else. She doesn’t want to get burned, so she needs him gone before it’s too late.

Hunter himself has been burned before, but Taylor’s sexy laugh and refusal to let him get away with anything make her irresistible. Determined not to be kicked out of her life without a fight, Hunter proposes a bet: if she can convince him she truly loves or hates him, he’ll leave the apartment--and leave her alone. The problem is, the more time they spend together, the less she hates him, and the more she moves toward love.

But when the man behind Taylor’s fear of giving up her heart resurfaces, she has to decide: trust Hunter with her greatest secret, or do everything in her power to win that bet and drive him away forever.

My Favorite Mistake is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and is suitable for ages 18 and up. Contains violence, language and sexual situations.

For anyone who has ever made a mistake in their life…Maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Acknowledgments

About the Author

The first time I met Hunter Zaccadelli, I punched him in the face. Granted, he completely and totally deserved it. He also asked for it, in so many ways.

When our fourth roommate bailed on us three days before school, Darah, Renee and I assumed housing would take care of it and shove some poor unfortunate in with us. Probably some poor girl who had decided to switch colleges at the last minute to follow a boyfriend, or someone who had their apartment plans fall through. We weren’t sure what to expect, but come move-in day, I did not expect who was waiting outside when I opened the door. I knew the upper-class housing was coed, but never in my wildest and craziest dreams did I think it would actually happen to us.

Instead of a desperate and frazzled girl, he showed up with a footlocker, a backpack and a guitar. It was so beyond cliché that I didn’t say anything for the full three seconds it took for me to assess him. Dark hair buzzed so short his head was almost shaved, purposeful five o’clock shadow, piercing blue eyes and at least a foot on my five feet. And a cocky smile to top it all off. He might as well have had Trouble tattooed on his forehead. Speaking of ink, I could just make out some on his arm, but I couldn’t see what it said. His thin T-shirt hugged his chest in a way that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Maybe he’d borrowed it from his little brother.

“Are you Darah, Renee or Taylor? You look like a Taylor to me,” he said, looking me up and down.

I wasn’t at my best, considering I was dressed for moving heavy objects in a blue UMaine T-shirt and black soccer shorts, and I had my light brown hair in a haphazard bun against the back of my neck. His eyes raked up and down twice, and for some reason the way he assessed me made me blush and want to kick him in the balls at the same time.

“There must be a mistake,” I said.

He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “That’s a creative name. What do you shorten it to? Missy?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His grin somehow got wider. Either his dad was a dentist, or he was really into flossing because those teeth were pretty perfect. I noticed things like that, having gone through my own dental saga between three years of braces and night headgear. I still had to wear a retainer every night.

“Is that her?” Darah called from her room, where she was arranging her photo frames so they were exactly level. She was neurotic like that.

“I’m Hunter, by the way. Hunter Zaccadelli.”

Of course his name was Hunter. The only Hunter I’d ever known had been a complete douche. Looked like this guy was going to carry on the tradition.

He pointed to his footlocker. “So, should I bring my stuff in or…?”

My brain wouldn’t stop misfiring.

“Who’s that?” Darah finally emerged. Our other roommate, Renee, was still unloading stuff from her car.

“New roommate, hey,” he said.

“You’re the new roommate?” Her eyebrows migrated so they were nearly hidden under her dark bangs. She gave him the same up and down as I did, but he didn’t do the same to her. He was still looking at me.

“Yeah, my housing plans fell through at the last minute. My cousin was going to let me live at his place, but that didn’t work out, so here I am. Do you mind if I come in now?”

“You can’t live here,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Why? This is a coed living facility, last time I checked.” He flashed his grin again and shouldered his way into the room, completely ignoring me as his chest brushed mine, and I got a whiff of cologne. It wasn’t that cheap crap that punches you in the nose. It was spicier, almost like cinnamon. I stood my ground, but he had height and weight on me. But I had surprise on my side.

“Well, it’s better than sleeping on my cousin’s couch,” he said, plunking his bag on the floor and surveying the room. The suites were small, with a kitchen and tiny nook for a dining table on one side and a tiny living room for an apartment-size couch and a recliner on the other. The bedrooms were the worst, with two lofted beds crammed perpendicular to each other along the wall, the desks crammed underneath, and room for only two small closets.

“Can I see some identification?” Darah said, propping her hands on her hips. “How do we know you’re not some random creep?”

“Do I look like some random creep?” He spread his arms out, and I finally saw what the tattoo on his left biceps was. A number seven in curling intricate script. My eyes moved up to his face.

“How are we supposed to know?” Darah moved closer to him, using her stature. They were almost the same height.

“Look, all I know is that I submitted an application and they sent me an email with a room number and your names. Here, I printed it out. Do you treat all your guests like criminals?” He drew out a many-times-folded sheet of paper and handed it to Darah. She glanced at it, sighed and handed it to me.

“Why wouldn’t they have notified us?” I said, once I’d read it. There it was in black-and-white.

“Who knows?” Darah said, still eyeing him warily.

“Oh my God, I swear I’m never moving again,” Renee said from the top of the stairs, her arms full of boxes and two bags dangling from her arms. “Who left their crap in the hallway?” She stepped over the footlocker and guitar case, giving them a look of disgust. “Has our new roommate showed up—oh, hello.” Her voice changed from irritated and dry to sweet and sugary the second she saw Hunter. “I’m guessing that’s your guitar in the hallway.” She dropped her stuff and proceeded to pop her hip out and lean to one side. Oh, please.