Miss InstaPrincess

By K.D. Elizabeth

Lena Douglas may be a world-famous Instagram model, but she hates it. She’s a real InstaPrincess, reigning over her court of perfectly airbrushed selfies and avocado toast posts, but at twenty-six, she’s running out of time before the Internet moves on to a younger model. Starting her own fitness line is the perfect escape.

But the thing about new companies? They kind of need a little cash. A mentor who can show Lena how to run a business wouldn’t hurt, either. Fortunately, she’s rented the house of a man who could be her perfect business partner. If she agrees to accompany him to events as his date, he might just fund her line.

Too bad she doesn’t have time for distractions.

Too bad her new neighbor is stupidly attractive.

Too bad he’s the neighbor from hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.D. Elizabeth
• Release date: Jul 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463431849

K.D. Elizabeth

K.D. Elizabeth is the owner of the popular Bookified Etsy store, which sells love letters from fictional characters to customers all over the world. Miss InstaPrincess is her first novel. She splits her time between Pennsylvania and New Hampshire (which has the best lobstah rolls EVER) and has traveled to over twenty countries.

Book preview

1

Travis

Safety Rule 37: Take particular care when installing all electricity lines.

The unfortunate reality of breaking into a house is that you have to wait until your victim leaves before you can do the dirty work. By the time my neighbor from hell finally left, it was nearly eleven in the morning and I was already five hours late to work. A huge pain in the ass, if not really surprising by this point.

Was I about to do something highly illegal? Yep. Did I give a shit? Nope. There came a point when a man needed a solid six hours of sleep, and I had surpassed that point approximately 27 days ago. I simply couldn’t function on three hours of sleep any longer, especially since most days I operated heavy machinery.

Now, I knew the reasonable thing to do would have been to consult my lawyer before I hopped over the fence dividing our properties—and by hopped over, I really mean climbed out of my bedroom window, dangled from the windowsill until my feet reached my neighbor’s ten-foot tall iron fence, and then silently dropped down into her yard. I’m sure my lawyer would have come up with a more legal, perfectly respectable way for her to calm her shit, and it would have been all fine and dandy. But by that point, I probably would have long perished from accidentally driving my bulldozer into a cement wall or something, thus defeating the need for said lawyer.

Instead, I’d have to come to terms with my newly-minted criminal status.

I landed on my neighbor’s immaculately mown lawn, reluctantly impressed that the place was well-maintained despite the nightly ragers she loved throwing. Not a blade of cut grass in sight, not one single leaf floating in the beautiful blue pool—and no electric box, either.

I swore, my eyes scanning for where the original construction company might have installed the electricity. I ducked behind a tree, half-convinced security cameras were already alerting the authorities to my presence. Perhaps it would have been better to come up with an actual plan before I launched myself onto someone else’s property.

I’d just blame it on the sleep deprivation if anyone caught me.

Muttering to myself about the stupidity of what I was doing, I crept over to the back door, thinking that surely the electric box would be located in the garage. In my experience, the garage and backyard in houses like this one were usually both connected to the kitchen, which meant I would only have to pass through one room on the way to my destination. I’d barely be inside at all.

My hand paused on the doorknob. Being caught in someone’s backyard could maybe be explained away, but sneaking into a house was full-on breaking and entering. Not exactly an item an upstanding pillar of the local business community should add to his résumé. I shrugged; maybe I’d be caught and sent to jail, or maybe I’d get away with it. Either way, I’d end up getting more sleep.

I twisted the knob, shaking my head when it easily opened. As much as I hated my neighbor, a beautiful woman like her—or anyone, really—shouldn’t leave her doors unlocked. Who knew what kind of creeps were around?

Wait, wouldn’t that make me the creep in this scenario?

I poked my head inside, pleased when I discovered that it was indeed the kitchen. Like the yard, this room was also immaculate, not a single item out of place. It was almost a little creepy. Maybe my hellish neighbor was secretly a female Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, where during the day she was a normal person, but at night she become my worst nightmare.

I vaguely wondered if anyone else in this development had actually met this girl, since both of our houses sat at the end of the drive, secluded from everyone else. She kept really weird hours, usually leaving her house around mid-morning, returning for a bit in the afternoon before leaving again for most of the evening.

Her schedule didn’t prevent her from throwing loud parties most nights, though. My ears could attest to that, especially since my bedroom was on the same side of the house as her pool. I was still furious about the Inflatable Incident, and that had been weeks ago.

But now that I’d seen her immaculate yard, I had to wonder if the vomiting I’d thought I’d heard last night was, in fact, a figment of my sleep-deprived imagination. How else could this place be so clean, so soon after such a party? The last one had literally ended nine hours ago, and I had to assume that she’d spent most of that time sleeping, unlike me.

I pushed such thoughts out of my head and focused on the task at hand. As expected, I found the electric box in the garage, which also was unlocked. Seriously, who didn’t lock the garage door to her own home? I could have just waltzed in and avoided my tangle with the fence.

Jerking the box open, I quickly scanned the various electric and HVAC lines for the property. A near giddiness swept through me at the thought that I’d actually get a decent night’s rest this evening. I pulled the commercial-grade electric time switch out of my pocket and stroked it almost lovingly.

Now, which electricity could she do without after 10 p.m.? Definitely the outdoor lights and any outdoor electrical outlets—it would be rather hard to have a midnight pool party with no pool lighting and no ability to plug in that damn music. A certain evil part of me was tempted to mess with her air conditioning. In Arizona, going without air conditioning would quickly become intolerable.

But I liked to consider myself a good person. It would stay, so I killed the downstairs lighting instead. She could just do whatever it was she normally needed to do at 2 a.m. on the second floor instead. I doubted such a neat freak would want a bunch of people traipsing through her bedroom, so with the combination of no outdoors and ground floor lighting, she’d probably be forced to send everyone home. I smiled at the thought.

Well, working in construction certainly made this easier. I attached the time switch to the various lines with ease, disabling the electricity from ten at night until six in the morning, and then shoving the switch behind the wires to hide it. I seriously doubted my meddling would last more than a day or two, but I’d take it at this point. Anyone with half a brain would immediately go to the electric box as soon as the lights went out. Maybe if I was really lucky, she’d give up in the dark and I’d have some blissful silence even if just for this one evening.

Closing the box, I shook my head again at her unlocked garage door. She’d certainly made my escape easier. Still, I glanced out the window and peered around cautiously to make sure the area was deserted. With my current luck, the damn mailman would probably deliver the mail the moment I stepped outside.

But to my relief the street was empty, so I slipped out of her house and made for my truck, whistling softly for the first time in a long damn time.

2

Travis

Safety Rule 4: Operating heavy machinery during a double shift is PROHIBITED.

Ifinally arrived at the site six hours late, and boy did I get shit for it.

Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence.

So nice of our boss to finally do his job.

And here I thought foremen just sat and looked pretty while the rest of us actually built the damn thing. Looks like I was right.

She must have been pretty wild if Travis is rolling in at fucking noon.

I winced at that last one. I hadn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month, which just so happened to coincide with the same night I’d last gotten a decent amount of sleep. The situation had become unacceptable—on both fronts. I’d never thought I would value sleep over sex in my entire life. But I wasn’t going to bring a woman over to my place with the zoo next door, and if I stayed over at some woman’s house, she’d inevitably get the wrong idea. So at the moment I was, regrettably, celibate.

Add that to the comprehensive list of reasons I hate my neighbor, I thought darkly as I swung into the mobile unit that was doubling as our breakroom and my office during the construction. I dumped my bag on the floor near my desk and slumped in my chair, simultaneously contemplating whether I could get away with sleeping in my office for a few hours and wondering when the fuck I’d become so pathetic.

I was just beginning to psych myself up for six hours of backbreaking physical labor when the door swung open and Gavin Harris strolled inside. A tall man with broad shoulders, sandy hair, and green eyes, Gavin was my second-in-command at Grant Construction and—more importantly—my childhood friend. I couldn’t even imagine how fucked up my life might have turned out if I hadn’t had Gavin when it mattered most.

He took one look at my haggard face and howled with laughter.

You stupid shit. When are you going to cave and stay at my place? You know the guest house is yours whenever you want it.

It’s my home, I growled. I will not be run off my own damn property. The only way this is going to end is with her going elsewhere. Literally anywhere.

Uh huh. You know, I keep saying that maybe you should just invite the gal over. The way I see it, you simultaneously get more sleep, more sex, and less loud noise. There’s literally no downside to that situation.

Gavin just so happened to be fully aware that my neighbor was ridiculously fuckable, and he had yet to stop giving me shit for it. I never should have told him about her in the first place. Chalk that up to yet another poor decision due to sleep deprivation.

I fixed him with the deadliest stare I could muster. I will not bring the enemy into my home, my place of refuge. That would be like inviting a viper to make its nest in my bed or inviting a nemesis to dinner. Absolute stupidity.

Gavin held his hands up. Okay, Rambo. Whatever you say. I’m simply observing that I’ve never seen you so preoccupied by a chick before. It’s a little disconcerting.

I thought back to the careless way she’d flicked her long brunette hair over her shoulder when she’d finally pulled out of her driveway this morning. I shoved the admittedly delectable image out of my mind. There were simply some places you didn’t insert your dick, and she was one of them.

Gavin took my silence as an opportunity to push too far. Really, Trav, I don’t think I ever saw you as upset with Annabelle as you are with this girl, and that’s saying something.

Don’t ever speak that name. My neighbor might be a shitty person, but she’s not the devil incarnate, you asshole. She’s never forced me to go without dinner simply because I trampled through her rose garden.

Okaaay, then. Apologies, dickhead. I’m just trying to look out for you.

I sighed, rubbing my temples and trying to slap some sense into myself. Sorry, Gavin. That was uncalled for. I just can’t think.

Gavin’s irritated expression softened as he silently accepted my apology. Look, I get it. You’re really stressed and tired, and with this project going as poorly as it is, I’m sure it’s a lot to handle psychologically. Something has simply got to change. You’re staying with me tonight, and that’s final.

As if I needed another reminder that we were already two weeks behind schedule constructing our town, Spring’s, much-needed new civic center. The entire county was counting on the project to bring in the new businesses and families our community desperately needed to remain sustainable. Grant Construction had never been so far behind so early in a project. Ever.

Make that one more area of my life that had suddenly gone to shit. But one problem at a time. I needed to celebrate each little victory, and today I’d finally secured one.

As much as I’d like to spend a night with you, Gavin, drink wine, and have pillow fights, that won’t be necessary.

Gavin glared at me. Oh, really?

Yep. I am happy to report that this evening I will be getting an excellent night’s sleep. The beast will be caged as of ten o’clock.

And how is that going to happen when nothing you’ve done has made any difference for like weeks now? As I recall, you’ve already called the cops on her twice, and the only thing they ever did was give her a warning. And hell, wasn’t the second time after she’d blocked your driveway with a giant bouncy castle? Something tells me they’re on her side.

I growled. That had been a particularly annoying extravaganza. What kind of a person threw a rager with a huge inflatable house at one in the morning on a fucking Wednesday? And I could have sworn I saw those cops jumping in it after they assured me they’d given her a warning …

Gavin, any reasonable person would have been pissed. Nothing was working. I just wanted a little payback. I had to escalate.

So tell me, oh reasonable one, what did you do?

I, uh, might have installed an electric time switch on her electric box.

You broke into her house?!

Well, when you put it like that it seems downright criminal. It was unlocked, anyway. I mean, who doesn’t lock her damn house? Even in a safe community like ours, you just don’t do that. I practically did her a favor.

Gavin paled, dropping into the chair in front of my desk as he leaned forward to stare directly into my eyes. Travis. This is not acceptable behavior. Breaking into someone’s home, violating her privacy, is not doing any woman a favor. Shit, I had no idea things had gotten this bad. She could have you arrested.

I dropped my head into my hands. "Yeah, I know. I know. I’m beyond thinking straight. And I can’t just sneak back into her garage and remove it. She’s probably home now.

It’s not a huge deal; it’ll just mess with her lights. She’ll probably find it right away and then everything will be fine. No harm, no foul.

You better hope that’s what happens. From what I’ve heard of this girl, she’s not exactly reasonable, especially after that time you tried to barricade your road and all that happened was her guests drove their Jeeps around the pylons.

A natural response to the Inflatable Incident. I couldn’t have predicted they’d go off-roading. Or that she’d retaliate by hiring a valet to deliberately park her guests’ cars in my yard the next night. It’s not like she’s an innocent party in all this!

Yeah, but up until now the insanity has been mostly contained to the outdoors and publicly accessible roads. Not actually inside a house, you stupid shit. Gavin leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. You know, it’s Friday.

So?

So she’s probably having another party tonight. Party animals tend to do that on Fridays. She’s going to be super pissed when her lights go off and she has to cancel.

That was sort of the point.

No shit, you dick. But that means it’s going to be harder to smooth over the situation when she inevitably finds that time switch and knows it was you who did it.

She won’t necessarily know that I placed it there.

Please. Who else lives nearby and hates her loud noise? She’ll know it’s you. I mean, you were the one who complained to the community board, right?

Only after she called the cops on me for blocking our road! Neither the board nor the cops even cared about the valet! It’s a conspiracy, I tell you!

So essentially, you’re both nuts. Anyway, change of plan. I’ll stay with you tonight.

That’s really not necessary.

No, dude. It really is. There’s no way I’m leaving you by yourself to deal with a beautiful woman who’s been bugging the shit out of you for weeks. I’ll be there to look out for her just as much as I’ll be there for you.

The fuck? Are you actually implying I would hurt a woman? The fuck kind of a friend are you?

No, Travis, Gavin said calmly. You’d never hurt a woman. But I do believe that if some of her asshole friends antagonize you, you’re likely to do something stupid, and if that happens, she could get caught in the crossfire. Sleep deprivation and drunkenness don’t mix well.

I threw up my hands, utterly disgusted with the situation, my friend, but mostly, with myself. Fine. Whatever. Come if you want. But I’m letting you know right now that it’s not going to be fun, and you’re not going to be getting any rest, either.

I’ll take a few hours of shitty sleep if it means looking out for my friend. Now stretch out on this couch and sleep for the next six hours. No, don’t shake your head. It’s happening. I’ll take care of everything today, and then tonight we’ll handle your domestic shit before someone winds up hurt.

3

Travis

Safety Rule 20: All employee disputes shall be brought to the immediate attention of the foreman.

Fortunately, my neighbor had another party that evening. Unfortunately, Gavin ended up being very, very wrong about how it all went down—and that he’d be any sort of help in the matter.

We let our men out early for the weekend, and by the time we headed over to my house, I was so jacked up from getting two entire REM cycles that I was entirely prepared to confront this girl head-on.

The only problem? She was nowhere in sight. Absolute, blissful silence radiated from next door, reminding me of the weird cleanliness when I had ... made my acquaintance with the property. Where the hell was she? I couldn’t do battle alone. After much debate, Gavin and I decided against sneaking back into her garage to retrieve the time switch; we couldn’t know when she’d return, after all. She could still be in there, for all we knew. We’d need to go in during the party chaos.

Gavin, being Gavin, took this development as an excellent opportunity for relaxation, which meant drinking a few beers and shooting pool in my basement. In my wired state, I also thought this was a delightful idea.

It was not a delightful idea.

By the time night fell and the first rumblings of the finest doof doof music began rattling my windows, we had become more than a little inebriated.

And there it fucking is! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ladies and gentleman, the award for World’s Worst Neighbor goes to ... whatever the fuck her name is!

Jesus, Trav, let’s fucking dial it down a notch.

No. No, I will not dial it down. I know how this song—ha ha—goes. First we’ll hear this shit, and then in approximately forty-five minutes it’ll suddenly get SO. MUCH. LOUDER. Just in time to coincide with the mass arrival of the world’s douchiest douches, who will somehow, against all the natural laws of physics, turn the music louder and proceed to yell and vomit for the next, oh, four hours, until they, I don’t know, pass the fuck out and then it’ll get terribly quiet while they go into hibernation until about six on a fucking Saturday morning, at which point they’ll shout and swear as they stumble semi-drunkenly out of the house and into whatever Jeep or Range Rover they’ve acquired this week and I am, once again, left sleepless and irritable.

Gavin stared at me, weaving slightly as he struggled to focus on my face. Okay. Okay. So, the first thing I’m going to do is just take that beer out of your hands while I try to decipher whatever the fuck it was you just said to me. Yep, look at that, there it goes. Bye bye, beer, I’ve just chugged you. So tasty.

Fuck you, man. That was my beer.

Yes, and you clearly need its tasty benefits no longer.

You’re drunk, too!

Yep, and fuck if I’m not still mostly acting like a normal human being. If I had thought a mere six hours of sleep would get you so amped up, I’d never have allowed you to ... uh, what am I trying to say? Oh. Drink. Yeah, drink alcohol. That.

I can see you’ll be a great help in this matter. Props to you for your absolutely wooonderful command of language.

Gavin flipped me off, finishing his own beer in one swig before sweeping the lot of it into my trash can. All right. That’s enough of that. You’re going to sit here, and I’m going to go out there and see if they can keep it down tonight.

I motioned magnanimously toward next door. You go right ahead. I wish you luck in your endeavor.

Gavin flipped me off again as he climbed the basement steps. I leaned back on my couch, confident that he’d get absolutely nowhere, just as I had the many, many times I’d asked literally anyone over there to keep it down. Gavin’s steps pattered across the floor above me, and then I heard the kitchen door open and shut. Deciding that a bottle of water was more than called for in my current state, I shuffled up to the kitchen and had just finished chugging a bottle when the door reopened and Gavin returned, smiling smugly.

My eyebrows rose as I silently handed him a bottle.

Thanks, man. Apparently, you’ve got the charisma of a doormat, because one of the guys said they’d keep it down. He was pretty decent about it, too. What did you say to them?

My brow rose skeptically. What did the guy look like?

Um ... little shorter than us. Muscly. Bright red hair pulled back in one of those annoying man-bun things.

I started laughing. I slumped over the kitchen island, laughing my head off, even though the situation really wasn’t a single bit funny.

What? The fuck are you laughing like that for? I just helped you out, you dick.

Sobering, I straightened up and then eased onto the stool next to me. No, Gavin. You did not help. In fact, you’ve just made it worse, because that asshole’s Jared.

Judging by the affronted expression on his face, Gavin had no idea what the hell I was talking about, which was fair, since I hadn’t explained a fucking thing, even though in our nearly 33 years of existence, he’d run into Jared more than once and should have known what was coming. I decided I might as well let him figure it out himself.

Raising my hands like some kind of deranged symphony conductor, I began flailing around as I said, And in three ... two ... one ...

Suddenly, the music, which until that point had been loud but tolerably so, absolutely surged in volume. Jared had not only increased the sound but also cranked the bass. My kitchen walls began rattling from the vibration, and yet again I