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Chapter 1 The hangover

Carter Thompson rolled over to find a young woman with a large birthmark on her

cheekbone sleeping next to him. He stared at it for a minute, that dark thumbprint on her face

with little mice hairs poking through. Cringing, he stuck his tongue out when he imagined the

only possible explanation. She must have bumped her head something awful on the way out.

Why was he sleeping with random girls who had huge birthmarks on their faces? What

happened to his standards, his integrity, his manhood? It was ridiculous for him to be lying next

to some woman he'd just met in a shabby downtown hotel room. Carter was hung-over, unable

to think clearly. Didn't he have a girlfriend? Oh, right...scratch that.

Looking her over, she appeared to be sweet enough even though the birthmark made her

look like she was going to a football game. Her lips moved a bit. She was starting to stir. He

could already tell she had the kind temperament of a girl who could truly and deeply care about

him. That's what Carter desired above all else. She groaned and put her hand to her forehead.

When she removed it to brush away some of her blonde hair, her innocent blue eyes caught him.

"Can you hurry up and pay me? I've got to get out of here. It's seventy-five dollars."

"Wait, what? Pay you? What are you talking about?" Carter coughed, choking on the

sudden lump in his throat. The girl widened her eyes, taking on a puppy dog sweetness he found

irresistible.

"I was good, wasn't I? Didn't you enjoy it? I feel like I can barely walk."

"Of course you were good," he replied, happy to supply the right answer to comfort her.

He rolled onto his elbow and smiled.

"Good! Then pay me my seventy-five dollars!" she demanded. Carter's jaw dropped,

completely lost to any speck of comprehension over what was going on. His hesitation didn't

please her. "That's it! I'm calling my dad. Where's my phone?"

Pulling the comforter tight over her neck, she reached to the floor and fumbled through

her clothes. She grabbed something and started to put it on under the sheets.

"Your dad, why?" he winced, bewildered.

"Because he'll have something to say about it when he learns you've stiffed us," she

snarled. "If there's one thing he hates more than deadbeats, it's his daughter giving out freebies."

"Your dad is your pimp? That's insane! Wait, wait, wait," he jabbered, because the girl

looked like she was about to go off on an angry tirade. "This was a consensual thing. We met in

a bar, had a few drinks, and decided to grab a room. We don't need to involve anybody else. It

was romantic."

Carter feigned another smile, hoping to salvage some scrap of the lovely night out he'd

imagined. The girl pursed her lips and gazed at him for a moment, contemplating something.

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