Olivia Marshall's life is a mess. She's always been the family screw-up, but she outdoes herself when she accidentally burns down her apartment building while drinking wine and torching the love letters of the boyfriend who dumped her.
She's forced to move back to her hometown because (totally on-brand for her) she'd withdrawn her savings from the bank with the intention of opening a new account at the credit union down the street, but she'd never gotten around to doing it. No big deal, only now every penny she had has literally gone up in flames.
And OF COURSE she didn't have renter's insurance.
She's determined to get her life in order, to land a great job and actually behave like a mature adult, only things get interesting when she gets a random Friday night misdial.
So tell me exactly what you’re wearing.
A pervy wrong number? I wiped my nose and typed: Your mom’s wedding dress and her favorite thong.
No more than five seconds went by before Wrong Number texted: Um, what?
I texted: Seriously, babe, I thought you’d think it’s hot.
Wrong Number: “Babe?” Seriously wtf?
That actually made me snort out a tiny laugh, the thought of some dude getting cold-showered via text. It was super weird that “babe” was where he was getting tripped up, as opposed to the monstrosity of an Oedipal-lingerie suggestion, but he’d also used the tired what are you wearing line, so who could really say about a guy like that?
I texted: Would you prefer something less-mommish?
Wrong Number: Oh, no – it sounds totally hot. You cool with me rocking cargo shorts, socks with sandals and your dad’s jock strap?
That made me smile in the midst of my full-on life collapse and resultant crying binge.
Me: I’m so turned on right now. Please tell me you’ll whisper dad jokes in my ear while we bonk.
Wrong Number: Yeah, baby - jokes and weather anecdotes come fully-loaded. And bonk is the sexiest word in the English language, btw.
Wrong Number: I texted the wrong number, didn’t I?
Me: Yeah, you did. I hiccupped – the beer was finally kicking in – and decided to give the guy a break. But go get after it, bud. Land that bonk. :)
Wrong Number: This is the weirdest text exchange I’ve ever had.
Me: Same. Good luck and goodnight.
Wrong Number: Um, thanks, I guess, and goodnight to you, as well.
That one random misdial becomes the start of a wild sextual relationship for Olivia and her Mr. Wrong Number.
Little does she know, however, that her anonymous sext-god is already in her life.
Jack Marshall wants to find The One.
After watching his favorite womanizing uncle die alone, he’s determined to change his party-boy ways. He lets his sister create a profile for him on a dating app, only the first message he gets on the app is from Hallie, the smartass bartender he’d slept with after his first-ever marriage proposal imploded in front of an entire wedding reception.
He and Hallie had a hell of a good time that night, but the pocket-sized know-it-all isn’t what he’s looking for.
Hallie can’t believe it when she comes across the wedding dude’s profile, and she can’t stop herself from messaging just to mess with him. Hey, baby – how come you never called? When he responds with an awkwardly polite message, she shuts it down – relax, Jack – I do NOT want to date you.
This leads to a hilariously honest exchange about how they each came to be on the app against their will, but also how they both hope to find someone. They start messaging each other sarcastic comments and become partners in their shared mission to find love.
They trade dating horror stories and encourage each other to try again. If you go on one, I’ll go on one. An offhand comment – I bet I find love before you do – turns into an actual wager that throws them face-to-face as they continue their parallel missions.
Only…she’s hotter than he remembered, and he’s funnier than she recalled. He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed her green eyes, and she’s a bit taken aback by how charming he is.
As they message on the daily and get to know each other better, Jack can’t help but notice he’s having more fun planning the dates with Hallie than he’s having on the actual dates themselves.
But do either of them have the courage to follow their hearts when their heads are leading them in practical directions? The love wager can only have one winner – will it be Jack, Hallie, or fate?
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