Oopsie Daisy

My professor gave me my first D.

Now my next assignment is due…in nine months.

You know when you meet your new professor, and he ends up being the same man you had a one-night stand with three months ago?

Okay, maybe not. Let me explain.

I hadn’t intended to sleep with my professor. I might be known as the impulsive, prankster daughter in my family, but I’m not insane. I just wanted to have some fun in Ireland at my sister’s wedding, and maybe lose my virginity, too.

When I met Lochlann Gallagher at a pub one night, I couldn’t resist him. He was hot, Irish, and entirely set on seducing me. One unforgettable night under the sheets with him, and my V-card went up in smoke.

Well, that night had one itty bitty consequence because Lochlann totally made my eggo preggo.

And if this story isn’t crazy enough, Lochlann is not just my baby daddy: he’s now my professor and my advisor for grad school.

Somehow we have to figure out a way not to reveal this rapidly gestating secret while resisting the explosive attraction between us.

Except there’s just one more complication to this story: I think I’m totally falling for my baby daddy.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she could bang her brother-in-law’s cousin and not have it come back to haunt her.


Oh wait, that was me. Katherine Lydia Wright, third sister of the Wright girls, the most brilliant, extraordinary, outstanding, and amazing of the three of us.

My oldest sister, Mari, might be good at eyeliner and my other sister, Dani, might be good at buying potting soil on sale, but I was something else.

You know those people who make you go: wow, she’s going to accomplish so many things?
Well, no one’s really said that about me except for my parents.

They also told me I could grow up to be a honey badger when I was five. But I believed I was going to accomplish things. And isn’t that what really matters?


Anyway, here I was, pursuing my dream of becoming a genetic engineer, starting grad school at the University of Washington, when it all blew up in my face.


Basically if you think of what happens when you light a match near gasoline, that’d be an accurate representation of my life at the moment.


Here’s a scene: me, a few weeks before my grad program officially started. I was meeting with my advisor that afternoon about my classes and my research goals.

My particular type of research centered around modifying genes to create a biofuel that was like gasoline—wait, do you care about this? 


You want to know about the cousin thing.
Patience, my friend. I’m getting there.


So here I am, about to knock on the door of my advisor’s office. When I saw that he didn’t have a nameplate, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to look him up at all. Stupid me. I needed to do that when I got home.


I heard a muffled voice say come in, and I did. I saw a man with jet-black hair sitting at his computer, his face hidden by the wide screen. 


Something in my stomach bounced. I called it my inner “uh-oh” voice, the same voice that liked to tell me that I should maybe not have put frogs in my sisters’ beds because I ended up with frogs in my bed afterward.


“Have a seat,” my advisor said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”


I sat down. I placed my bag on my lap, but it tumbled from my grip when my advisor finally revealed his face.


Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.


Lochlann. It was Lochlann. The man I’d had a one-night stand with three months ago. In Ireland. 


Oh God, oh God, oh God. I’d had torrid sex with my advisor.

I’d lost my virginity to my advisor.