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She's forced to move back to her hometown because (totally on-brand for her) she'd withdrawn her savings from the bank with the intention of opening a new account at the credit union down the street, but she'd never gotten around to doing it.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.
Hallie Piper is turning over a new leaf. After belly-crawling out of a hotel room (hello, rock bottom), she decides it’s time to become a full-on adult.
She gets a new apartment, a new haircut, and a new wardrobe, but when she logs into the dating app that she has determined will find her new love, she sees none other than Jack, the guy whose room she’d snuck out of.
Through the app, and after the joint agreement that they are absolutely not interested in each other, Jack and Hallie become partners in their respective searches for The One. They text each other about their dates, often scheduling them at the same restaurant so that if things don’t go well, the two of them can get tacos afterward.
Spoiler: they get a lot of tacos together.
Discouraged by the lack of prospects, Jack and Hallie make a wager to see who can find true love first, but when they agree to be fake dates for a weekend wedding, all bets are off.
As they pretend to be a couple, lines become blurred and they each struggle to remember why the other was a bad idea to begin with.
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