The One That Got Away (Love Hotel #1)

Chapter 1

1

STELLA

‘Yes, yes, yes !’ I cried out, lifting my hips off the bed as the waves of pleasure rippled through me.

But just as I was on the verge of seeing stars, the sweet buzzing sensation stopped and my vibrator died.

‘No, no, no!’ I pleaded, pressing the on/off button repeatedly, hoping I could bring it back to life. Wishful thinking. ‘Aaarghhh!’ I groaned in frustration as my bum crashed onto the mattress.

Talk about bad timing.

I was so close.

Life could be really cruel sometimes.

I should’ve known not to read that steamy romance novel before bed. If I hadn’t got so worked up about the unthinkable things the hot hockey player was doing to the female main character in the shower, I wouldn’t have needed emergency assistance .

All wasn’t lost though. I just had to get some new batteries and I’d be good to go.

After placing the neon-pink silicone rod beside me, I pulled on my dressing gown, washed my hands in the bathroom, tossed my thick curly brown hair into a messy bun, then raced downstairs. The sooner I returned to finish the job, the sooner I could go to sleep.

The light was on in the kitchen. Shit. I didn’t realise she was back already.

‘Hi, Mum.’ I breezed through the door, trying to act natural. ‘How was your date?’

Mum was sitting at the table with a pair of lace knickers in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. She was still dressed in the sparkly lilac dress she’d left in two hours ago, but had tied her freshly dyed black hair up.

Her light brown skin was a similar shade to mine, except tonight Mum was wearing her favourite rose-coloured blusher, which made her cheekbones pop.

‘Fine, I suppose,’ Mum replied. ‘Thought I’d come home early and get a head start on those new orders. Thanks for saving me the last few slices of pizza. I’ll have that for breakfast.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I said, striding towards the drawer.

‘What you looking for?’ Mum said, as I started rooting through the disorganised pile of light bulbs and unused gadgets.

‘Just some, erm, triple A batteries. Do we have any?’

‘What do you need them for?’

‘Just…’ I paused, thinking of a plausible response. ‘ Stuff .’

Mum and I were close, but some things, like what I chose to do in my bedroom during the rare evenings I was home alone, were best kept to myself.

‘For your vibrator?’ she said casually.

‘What?’ My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Thank goodness I had my back to her. ‘No, it’s for my… er… I…’

‘Oh, come on , Stella! I didn’t raise you to be a prude! Nothing wrong with a bit of self-care . I was listening to an interview with that TV presenter Davina McCall the other day who said that every woman should have some lube and a toy in her bedside drawer. And she’s right. Women have been pleasing themselves for centuries. Did you know that Cleopatra invented the first vibrator?’

‘Er, no…’

‘Apparently she filled a container with bees and all their angry buzzing made it vibrate. Then she put it on her…’

‘Mum!’ I turned to face her, horror written all over my face. ‘I don’t need specifics! I get the idea.’

‘I think it’s genius !’ She threw her head back, laughing. ‘But you wouldn’t need buzzing bees or batteries if you found yourself a decent man…’

‘Give me a break!’ I sighed, sensing another lecture was coming.

‘What? I’d love grandkids whilst I’m still young enough to enjoy them! And as advanced as your Waterfall Turbo 3,000 is, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have the ability to impregnate you!’ She laughed again.

‘Not funny.’

I didn’t even want to know how Mum knew the name of my one and only adult toy. It was at times like these that I regretted moving back home. If I had my own place, I wouldn’t have to suffer through discussions like this.

‘I’m only joking. Well, sort of. It’s not just about grandchildren. I know things are different these days. I just worry about you, that’s all.’

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll meet someone one day.’

‘How? You deleted all the apps and you spend all your time here, at home working. I’m grateful for your help, you know I am, but since you’ve moved back home you’ve got stuck in a bit of a rut. Apart from seeing Samantha, you never go out. You’re not going to find a man sitting on the sofa every night. Unless of course you fancy the pizza delivery guy! ’

Kevin was sweet and always made sure my Meat Feast arrived nice and hot, but he wasn’t the man for me.

And I definitely wasn’t using the apps again. Not after what happened before.

‘I haven’t had time! We’ve been rushed off our feet with orders and I had to create the new website and…’

‘The website’s been done for months! It’s been over a year since you’ve dated. You’re thirty-one. I’m sixty and even I’m getting more action than you. It’s not right! You used to love going out. And you used to tell me you wanted to travel the world. But apart from the time you came to visit my family in Jamaica two years ago, I can’t remember the last time you ventured further than the high street!’

‘I’m saving up for a mortgage! I can’t fritter money away on holidays,’ I protested. Property in London these days wasn’t cheap.

‘You can’t put your life on hold whilst you do that though, sweetheart. Life’s for living, now . I want you to get out there and enjoy yourself. Travel to somewhere hot, feel the sun on your skin, meet new people, have new experiences. Be happy.’

‘I’m fine!’ I repeated, not sure whether I was trying to convince Mum or myself. ‘I’m going back to bed.’ I closed the drawer and strode towards the door.

‘Wait!’ She grabbed my arm. ‘There’s something I need to show you.’ She plucked a glossy magazine off the table, flicked through it and thrust a double-page spread under my nose. ‘Look. It’s another feature on that hotel I was telling you about before. There’s three case studies of women in their thirties who were unlucky in love like you. Then they all went to The Love Hotel and found the men of their dreams!’

‘Not this again,’ I huffed. ‘I told you months ago, it’s not for people like me. ’

The Love Hotel was an exclusive luxury resort near Marbella in Spain, which claimed to help people find their perfect match.

‘It’s for anyone who wants to meet someone special. People arrive single and leave madly in love. It’s magical!’

‘It’s super fancy and expensive. Never mind saving up for a mortgage to buy a flat, the price of staying there for two weeks is a mortgage on its own.’

‘Yes, it’s pricey, but you get what you pay for. It’s five-star, all-inclusive accommodation and they hire the world’s best matchmaking experts to find the perfect partner for all their guests – that can’t come cheap.’

‘Exactly! Even if I thought it was a good idea, which I don’t, unless I win the lottery, there’s no way I’d be able to afford to go. You have to pay a massive deposit without any guarantee that you’ll even go to the hotel, never mind finding your knight in shining armour .’

‘They ask for money upfront so their experts can search for a match on their high-tech database. You can’t expect them to do that for free. I really think it’s worth a try. Read the article. See for yourself.’

My gaze dropped to the pages. There was a couple kissing on the beach with a backdrop of an admittedly gorgeous, sun-drenched hotel.

‘It’s all very nice, but like I said, it’s out of my price range. My holiday budget is more Margate than Marbella. Night, Mum.’ I left the room.

Forget about the batteries. Thanks to that conversation, any desire I had ten minutes ago had evaporated.

I slipped back under the duvet, squeezed my eyes shut and willed the sleep to come, but it resisted. My mind was still racing.

Of course I’d love to travel more. And find the man of my dreams. Who wouldn’t? But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to be pressured into dating again.

When I moved back home a year and a half ago, after breaking up with Tom, Mum went on and on, saying I needed to ‘get out there’ again.

Eventually she wore me down. I joined different apps, went on several dates and they all ended badly.

So, no. This time I was standing my ground. There’d be no apps and I definitely wouldn’t be applying for that posh hotel.

By next year hopefully I’d be able to scrape together enough for a deposit and could finally get a mortgage and buy a proper place of my own.

Once I’d got settled, I could think about dating again.

But until then, I was just fine being single.

All I needed was romance novels and my buzz buddy.

And maybe a spare set of batteries.