Vesper Atroscatini wasn’t planning on launching her Hot Girl Era at the grocery store.
She just wanted fried chicken, peanut M&Ms, and maybe a little solo fantasy time starring her imaginary boyfriend Donovan—shirtless, devoted, and anatomically perfect.
But then Bo Sullivan appeared.
Six feet of real man with broad shoulders, blue eyes, and a voice that made her thighs reconsider retirement. He paid for her groceries. He carried her cart. He called her beautiful and texted like a man who means it.
Now Vesper is juggling flirty messages, long steamy baths, and her nineteen-year-old daughter’s relentless commentary (“MOM, you fired your imaginary boyfriends for the hot guy at GoodFoods?!”). Her ex-husband’s wife is suddenly her biggest cheerleader. Her real name is starting to feel more powerful than any fantasy alias. And Bo? Bo might actually be the one.
If she can survive the wardrobe critiques, accidental late-night confessions, and her own chaotic brain long enough to let herself be wanted again.
My Mom’s Unhinged Hot Girl Era is a steamy, laugh-out-loud romantic romp about rediscovering your desirability, embracing your inner space ninja, and remembering that it’s never too late to be the main character.
Hot chicken. Hot bath. Hot man.
Excerpt from “My Mom’s Unhinged Hot Girl Era”
Vesper crashed through the apartment door, grocery bags hanging from both arms and one shoulder like she was being mugged by produce.
Trini jumped on the couch, sending her magazine flying.
“Jesus, Mom! Can we get you a cat bell or something? So I know when you’re about to explode through the door like the Kool-Aid Man?”
“Sorry, honey,” Vesper said, breathless. “Just a little late. I texted—”
Trini raised a hand, already digging through her purse.
She looked like a smaller, slightly more organized version of her mother. Pretty, but trying not to show it. She wore a soft skirt, a blouse, and sandals with purposeful scuffs.
“I don’t think I got a—wait, hold on…”
Vesper flopped into the kitchen, dropping the bags dramatically onto the floor.
“I got chicken! And M&Ms!”
Trini’s voice floated in from the couch. “Okay… but what is ‘Donovan, you’re fired’ supposed to mean? You texted that like five minutes ago.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Who’s Donovan?” she asked.
Vesper froze mid-step.
“Ughhhhh…”
Trini rounded the corner, phone in hand, still reading.
“It says, ‘Donovan, I love you, but I’ve found another man. I’m sorry, but we can’t see each other anymore.’”
Silence.
“MOM!” Trini yelped. “What the hell?”
Vesper winced. “Baby…”
Trini’s mouth dropped open—then curved slowly into a grin.
“You are such a cougar. Meeeeowww. Mom!”
“No, I—honey, can we just—oh god. Where are the M&Ms?”
Vesper dove into the grocery bags like a woman searching for salvation.
“Found them!” she cried, ripping the bag open, shoving a handful in her mouth, and lifting the wine bottle in one fluid, practiced motion.
Through the chocolate and panic, she mumbled, “Honey. Just sit. We’ll talk. There’s a story. Really. Just… judge me after the story, okay?”
Trini, grinning now, tucked her phone away and headed back toward the couch.
As she flopped down, she let out a theatrical, “Rreeeowww,” and clawed at the air like a cartoon cat.
Vesper waited until she was out of view—then softly banged her forehead against the kitchen cabinet.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She grabbed a wine glass. Poured a full one.
Took a long, bracing sip.
And began the slow, inevitable ruining of her reputation with her daughter.
Vesper rounded the corner, cheeks flushed, wine glass in hand.
Trini was waiting on the couch, legs crossed, eyes sharp.
“Donovan.”
She pointed.
“Talk. Now.”
Vesper sat down, snorted into her wine glass.
“Okay—but this isn’t what you think it is.”
Trini arched a brow. “I’ll judge you as I see fit. Donovan. Keep going.”
Vesper sighed. “Alright, honey. Short version. I make up men in my head. Donovan is one of the guys I invented to…”
“To… what, exactly?” Trini leaned forward. “How many guys has my cougar mom made up in her MILF fantasy multiverse?”
Vesper gave her a sheepish smile—the kind that said yes, I totally deserve this, I’m a terrible role model.
“Fine. A few. Brett. Donovan. JoJo…”
“MOM! Oh. My. GOD. You are not supposed to be telling me this!”
“What? You asked! And how else am I supposed to explain that text?”
Vesper started laughing—the kind of laugh you can’t undo once it’s started.
“So… Donovan and I were—you know—he was just… on my mind…”
Trini gasped. “MOM, NO. I don’t know. Maybe you should tell me.”
Vesper groaned and slammed her head into the couch cushions. “Honey, stop. I was such a good mom…”
Trini, trying to hold it together, pulled her mom upright and flicked her black hair dramatically from her face. She took her mother’s hand, solemn.
“Okay. I’m done teasing. I just want to be clear. To recap—my 40-year-old mom—”
“Forty-one,” Vesper corrected, muffled.
“Right. My cougery hot mom was just… twiddling herself in the GoodFoods parking lot—”
Vesper groaned into the pillow again. “Oh my goddddd.”