Title: Finley

Author: Ella Frank

Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance

Release Date: March 22nd, 2016

Cover Design by Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art

Blurb

It’s time to come home, Finn.

It’s been seven years since Daniel Finley left his hometown in Florida for the hustle and bustle of Chicago’s city life.

Since then, he’s worked hard for his position at the prestigious law firm Leighton & Associates, even when it’s caused distance and isolation from his family and friends. But that’s all about to change.

On his thirtieth birthday, he receives the one thing he never dared hope for. Something that was promised to him years earlier—a note. One simple sentence from the man he’s never been able to forget.

Six words will forever change the course of their lives.

Brantley Hayes has it all. Or so he thinks. When he first made the decision to take a job down in Florida, his family thought he was crazy. But, after years of living in the quiet beach town, he finally feels a sense of community. He’s surrounded himself with friends who are like family, has a job he loves, and owns a spectacular beachfront property that is his sanctuary.

Yet he still feels unfulfilled, as if a piece of the puzzle is missing, and he knows exactly which piece it is. On an impulse, he follows through with a promise he made years earlier. A promise to call home the one he sent away.

Nothing is as simple as it seems.

After years of separation, the former lovers are reunited, but Brantley wasn’t expecting to encounter the high walls now guarding Daniel’s heart.

Daniel may not be the same person he was when he left, but he knows that the first step to healing is the note in his hand.

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About the Author

Ella Frank is the author of the #1 Bestselling Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite erotic serial, A Desperate Man. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR. You can reach her on the web at www.ellafrank.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ella.frank.author

Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.

Connect with Ella Frank

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Reasonable Doubt

by Whitney G.

Publication Date: March 31, 2014

Genres: Contemporary, Erotic, Romance

Free: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

My cock has an appetite.

A huge and very particular appetite: Blonde, curvy, and preferably not a fucking liar…(Although, that’s a story for another day.)

As a high profile lawyer, I don’t have time to waste on relationships, so I fulfill my needs by anonymously chatting and sleeping with women I meet online.

My rules are simple: One dinner. One night. No repeats.

This is only casual sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.

At least it was , until “Alyssa”…

She was supposed to be a 27 year old lawyer, a book hoarder, and completely unattractive. She was supposed to be someone I shared law advice with late at night, someone I could trust with details of my weekly escapades.

But then she came into my firm for an interview–a college-intern interview, and everything fucking changed…

Reasonable Doubt Volume #1

Prologue

Andrew

New York City is nothing more than a shit-filled wasteland, a dump where failures are forced to drop all their broken dreams and leave them far behind. The flashing lights that shined brightly years ago have lost their luster, and that fresh feeling that once permeated the air—that hopefulness, is long gone.

Every person I once considered a friend is now an enemy, and the word “trust” has been ripped from my vocabulary. My name and reputation are tarnished thanks to the press, and after reading the headline that The New York Times ran this morning, I’ve decided that tonight will be the last night I ever spend here.

I can’t deal with the cold sweats and nightmares that jerk me out of my sleep anymore, and as hard as I try to pretend like my heart hasn’t been obliterated, I doubt that the agonizing ache in my chest will ever go away.

To properly say goodbye, I’ve ordered the best entrées from all my favorite restaurants, watched Death of a Salesman on Broadway, and smoked a Cuban cigar on the Brooklyn Bridge. I’ve also booked the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where I’m now leaning back on the bed and threading my fingers through a woman’s hair—groaning as she slides her mouth over my cock.

Teasingly darting her tongue around my tip, she whispers, “Do you like this?” as she looks up at me.

I don’t answer. I push her head down and exhale as she presses her lips against my balls, as she covers my cock with her hands and moves them up and down.

Over the past two hours, I’ve fucked her against the wall, forced her to bend over a chair, and pinned her legs to the mattress while I devoured her pussy.

It’s been quite fulfilling—fun, but I know this feeling will only last for so long; it never stays. In less than a week, I’ll have to find someone else.

As she takes me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I tightly tug her hair—tensing as she bobs her head up and down. Pleasure begins to course its way through me, and the muscles in my legs stiffen—forcing me to let go and warn her to pull away.

She ignores me.

She grips my knees and sucks faster, letting my cock touch the back of her throat. I give her one last chance to move away, but since her lips remain wrapped around me, she leaves me no choice but to cum in her mouth.

And then she swallows.

Every. Last. Drop.

Impressive…

Finally pulling away, she licks her lips and leans back against the floor.

“That was my first time swallowing,” she says. “I did that just for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” I stand and zip my pants. “You should’ve saved it for someone else.”

“Right. Well, um…Do you want to order some dinner? Maybe we could eat it over HBO and go at it again afterwards?”

I raise my eyebrow, confused.

This is always the most annoying part, the part when the woman who previously agreed to “One dinner. One night. No repeats.” wants to establish some type of imaginary connection. For whatever reason, she feels like there needs to be some type of closure conversation, some bland reassurance that’ll confirm that what just happened was ‘more than sex,’ and we’ll become friends.

But it was just sex, and I’m not in need of any friends. Not now, not ever.

“No, thank you.” I walk over to the mirror on the other side of the room. “I have someplace to be.”

“At three in the morning? I mean, if you just want to skip the HBO and go for another round instead, I can…”

I tune out her irritating voice and begin to button my shirt. I’ve never spent the night with a woman I met online, and she isn’t going to be the first.

As I adjust my tie, I look down and spot a tattered pink wallet on the dresser. Picking it up, I flip it open and run my fingers across the name that’s printed onto her license: Sarah Tate.

Even though I’ve only known this woman for a week, she’s always answered to “Samantha.” She’s also told me—repeatedly, that she works as a nurse at Grace Hospital. Judging by the Wal-Mart employee card that’s hiding behind her license, I’m assuming that part isn’t true either.

I look over my shoulder, where she’s now sprawled across the bed’s silk sheets. Her creamy colored skin is unmarred and smooth; her bow shaped lips are slightly swollen and puffy.

Her green eyes meet mine and she slowly sits up, spreading her legs further apart, whispering, “You know you want to stay. Stay…”

My cock starts to harden—it’s definitely up for another round, but seeing her real name has ruined any chance of that for me. I can’t stand to be around anyone who’s lied to me, even if she does have double D tits and a mouth from heaven.

I toss the wallet into her lap. “You told me your name was Samantha.”

“Okay. And?”

“Your name is Sarah.”

“So what?” She shrugs, beckoning me with her hand. “I never give my real name to men I meet on the internet.”

“You just fuck them in five star hotel suites?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my real name?”

“I don’t.” I glance at my watch. “Are you spending the night in this room or do I need to give you cab money to get home?”

“What?”

“Was my question unclear?”

“Wow…Just, wow…” She shakes her head. “How much longer do you think you’ll be able to keep doing this?”

“Keep doing what?”

“Chatting someone up for a week, fucking her, and moving on to the next. How much longer?”

“Until my dick stops working.” I put on my jacket. “Do you need cab fare or are you staying? Check out is at noon.”

“Do you know that men like you—relationship avoiders, are the type that typically fall the hardest?”

“Did they teach you that at Wal-Mart?”

“Just because someone from your past hurt you doesn’t mean that every woman after her will.” She purses her lips. “That’s probably why you are the way you are. Maybe if you tried to actually date someone you’d be a lot happier. You should take her out for dinner and actually listen, see her to her door without expecting an invitation inside, and maybe bypass the whole ‘let’s go fuck’ in the hotel suite thing at the end.”

Where are my keys? I need to go. Now.

“I can see it now…” She can’t seem to shut up. “You’re going to want more than sex one day, and the person you want it from is going to be someone you least expect. Someone who will force you to give in.”

I pull my keys from underneath her crumpled dress and sigh. “Do you need cab money?”

“I have my own car, dick-face.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you really this incapable of having a regular conversation? Would it kill you to talk to me for a few minutes after sex?”

“We have nothing more to discuss.” I put my room key on the nightstand and walk toward the door. “It was very nice meeting you, Samantha, Sarah. Whatever the hell your name is. Have a great night.”

“Screw you!”

“Three times was more than enough. No, thank you.”

“Things are going to catch up to you one day, asshole!” She yells as I step into the hallway. “Karma is one hell of a bitch!”

“I know.” I toss back. “I fucked her two weeks ago…”

About the Author

A self diagnosed candy addict, travel junkie, and hypochondriac, Whitney Gracia Williams LOVES to write about characters that make you laugh, cry, and want to (in the case of Claire Gracen) reach through your Kindle and slap them.

She is the New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of Reasonable Doubt,the Mid Life Love Series, the Jilted Bride Series, the My Last Resolution Series, Wasted Love, and Captain of My Soul.

When she’s not locked inside her room, feverishly typing away on her laptop.

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Jack & Jill’s dark & uniquely funny story concludes in

Dawn of Forever by Jewel E Ann!

Find out what happens!

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Blurb

’til death do us part.

Aric James Monaghan promised Jillian Knight Portland. With a heavy heart and a light bag, she travels to the West Coast for the man she loved. In a blink her worlds collide, holding her hostage to a past filled with lies, deceit, and revenge.

Four Caskets

Two Bodies

It all started with a boy and a girl—their tragic love story is shared through the eyes of the enemy.

Every word fades dreams and shatters memories as life slips away. Jillian needs a Knight, Jessica needs a miracle, and together they need a savior.

Excerpt

Tugging off her shirt, she smiled. Gone were the compression bras; she didn’t burn them, but they were hauled off with the trash shortly after the infamous refrigerator sex. Lace, satin, and underwire took their place.

“What you’re doing right now feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever done to me with your mouth.”

“We’ll see about that.” He wet his lips, eyeing her white lace bra. Approval glimmered in his eyes.

She removed the rest of her clothes, eager to be in his arms. He took a step back as she moved toward him.

“Stop.”

She froze. Her hands searched for a place to be: hanging idle at her sides, covering her breasts, shielding her neatly-shaven pussy?

“Repeat after me.”

“What?” Her voice squeaked with disbelief.

He grinned as his ego gobbled up her confidence. “I’m beautiful.”

Ryn squinted.

“Say it.”

She sighed. “I’m beautiful.”

“I’m taking back every bit of confidence that bastard took from me.”

It would never happen like that, but someone who hadn’t been in her shoes could never understand. However, she loved the naked man standing before her for saying it.

“I’m taking back every bit of confidence that bastard took from me.”

“I’m worthy of happiness.”

That one hit harder than it should have. She’d never given happiness much thought.

“Say it.”

“I’m … I’m worthy of happiness.”

“I’m going to marry Jackson Knight and love him in spite of his multiple fucked-up personalities.”

“Jackson—”

“Say it.” His voice carried a rare pain and vulnerability.

“I’m going to marry Jackson Knight…” she stepped closer and rested her hands on his chest “…and I’m going to love Every. Single. One. Of his fucked-up personalities.”

“I’ve had a shit day,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Until now.”

She nodded slowly, then looked up at him. “I’ve had a shit life … until now.”

“Touch me,” he said.

“Where?”

“Everywhere. Make me feel human again.”

Haven’t read this series yet?

Jack & Jill Series Reading Order

End of Day (Book One)

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About the Author

Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.

With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.

After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.

When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.

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He found me in blood and tears.

I stayed with him through darkness and fire.

We loved each other in the moment between innocence and bitter truth.

We were the kids easily ignored, who grew into adults we hardly knew.

We weren’t meant to last forever. And we didn’t.

He ran away.

I tried to move on.

Yet I never stopped thinking about the boy who had fought to keep me alive in a world that would have swallowed me whole. He was the past that I buried, but never forgot.

Until the day I found him again, years after believing I had lost him forever.

And in cold, resentful eyes, I saw the heart of the man who had been everything when I had nothing at all. So I vowed to hold onto the second chance that was stolen from the children we had been.

Sometimes fate is ugly. Life can be twisted.

And who we are can be ruined by who we once were.

For two people who had survived so much, we would have to learn how to hold on before we were forced to let go.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

“Maybe I should tell you a story. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. You always liked when I made up dumb stuff to get you to smile.” I chuckled. “The more improbable the better, right? So let me think of something completely unrealistic.”

I sniffled, wiping my wet cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Once upon a time there was a sad, lonely boy who was actually a forgotten prince. No one knew that he was rich and powerful and had a family that was searching for him.” I smiled sadly, wishing, more than anything, that this particular story had been true.

“One day he met a girl who swore that she would help him get back home to the castle. They fell in love. The prince wanted her to come back to the castle with him so they could live there together. They fought dragons and defeated ogres. They ran from witches and swam through oceans. And finally they found the castle. The prince’s family welcomed him home and he married his princess. And they lived happily ever after.”

I rested my forehead on the back of his hand, hating how cold his skin was. “You always loved your fairytales,” I mused, wishing he had been able to find his.

The hand in mine stirred and I bolted upright. Yoss’s face was contorted in pain, his eyes fluttering.

I got to my feet and reached for the call button so I could alert the nurse that something was wrong.

Then he let out a breath and his eyes opened. They were clouded and confused as they darted around the room, taking everything in.

I was rooted to the spot, not moving. He frowned and then winced when he tried to sit up.

“Uh, you shouldn’t do that. Take it easy,” I instructed, my voice shaking.

Then the wild, green eyes found me. There was no immediate recognition and I felt the crushing weight of disappointment.

He doesn’t know who I am.

His eyes were cold. So cold. Dead. He groaned as he lifted his hand to his face, touching the bandaged skin.

“Let me call the nurse. Your doctor will want to see you now that you’re awake—”

“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough and hard.

It was a voice I had heard a million times in my dreams.

A voice I never thought I’d hear again. Not in real life.

“You’re at Lupton Memorial Hospital. You were brought in last night.” I didn’t give him any more details. I wasn’t sure he was ready for all that. He had just gained consciousness after all.

“The hospital,” he repeated. He struggled to sit up and hissed in pain at the effort.

“Seriously, you should wait and let me call the nurse—”

His eyes flashed in my direction and the cloud of confusion lifted as he speared me with a look that I felt in my bones.

Recognition.

His eyes widened and his mouth parted in disbelief.

I wanted to say something—anything—but my tongue felt frozen behind my teeth.

Yoss shook his head and closed his eyes. He let out a noise that sounded a lot like a sob and my heart knew the sound of pain when it heard it.

When he opened his eyes again, they were wet. Long, dark lashes spikey with tears that refused to fall.

A hundred memories arched between us. A thousand words spoken softly in the dark.

A dozen promises never kept.

His lips curved upwards into the shadow of a smile that I remembered and loved so much.

“Imi,” he whispered.

I nodded, still otherwise paralyzed.

“Imi,” he said again, a tear traveled the length of his cheek and dripped off his chin.

“It’s me, Yoss,” I said finally, forcing myself to speak.

Our eyes met. They held.

They clung and they devastated.

Fifteen years had passed but none of that mattered.

In that instant we were kids again. Remembering a time when, to each other, we were everything.

The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and Paranormal romance including The Find You in the Dark and Bad Rep series as well as the upcoming stand alone romance, Reclaiming the Sand, and a dark new adult series for Gallery Books.

A. Meredith spent ten years as a counselor for at risk teens and children. First working at a Domestic Violence/Sexual Assault program and then later a program for children with severe emotional and mental health issues. Her former clients and their stories continue to influence every aspect of her writing.

When not writing (or being tortured with all manner of beauty products at the hand of her very imaginative and extremely girly daughter), she is eating chocolate, watching reality television that could rot your brain and reading a smutty novel or two.

A. Meredith is represented by Michelle Johnson with the Inklings Literary Agency.

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Excerpt

Suddenly, my body goes rigid.  I can’t move at all, but I can feel a surge through my entire system.  I can see it, taste it, smell it.  My heart forces blood through my veins, warming my insides.  As the blood flows, the muscles in my legs, arms, and chest flex.

“Sten?  Are you all right?”

I try to focus on her face, but my vision is blurred.

“Hold on, Sten.  You just need to ride it out.”

“What…”  I can’t utter another word.  My throat seizes up, and for a second, I am unable to take a breath.

Riley’s palm touches my face as she presses a sensor to my temple.  My arm jerks, and I grasp her hand.  I press it to my chest.

“Relax.  Focus on your breath.”

“I can’t!”

She takes my free hand in hers and holds it to her body, right over her heart.

“Focus on me, then,” she says.  “Feel my heartbeat.”

My fingers twitch.  I can feel the steady beat in each fingertip.  Closing my eyes, I count the beats.  One hundred.  Two hundred.  Three hundred.

Minutes pass.  I keep counting.  Eventually, my body begins to adjust and my muscles relax.  I become aware of not just her heartbeat, but of how close my hand is to her breast.  My dick strains in my shorts.

I reach out with my legs, wrapping them around her waist and bringing her body toward my crotch.  Releasing her hand, I reach up and grab the back of her head and use the other hand to push the collar of the lab coat out of the way.  The blue of her blouse contrasts with her skin.  It’s beautiful, enticing.

With one finger, I trace the edge of her collar, brushing over her skin.  I can feel her heart beat under my fingertip, and I want to taste the spot where I’ve touched her.  I look back to her eyes.  She’s staring at my lips.

I bring us together, pressing my mouth to hers gently at first but then with more vigor.  I can taste mint on her breath as my tongue slides over hers.  I thread my fingers through her hair and tighten my thighs around her waist, holding her close to me.  I trail my finger farther down her collar and spread my hand to cup her breast.

She pulls back, breaking the kiss.

“Sten, you’ll have to stop that now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”  She touches the side of my face, running her hand over my rough cheek.

“I want you.  I need you.”  I don’t understand why I’m explaining myself.  It’s clear to me from her scent that she wants this too, but she keeps pushing me away.  She denies me as she denies herself.

Why?

A soldier, a doctor, and a stark white laboratory full of lies.

Specimen releases on February 24th!

Pre-order NOW!

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Blurb

I awaken in a laboratory.

I don’t know who I am.

I’m inexplicably drawn to the doctor who cares for me.  She tells me I’ve been altered, that I’m stronger and faster, that I’ll be a key component in a war between corporations.  She says I volunteered for this.  She says I volunteered to be transformed, but I have no way of knowing if what she says is true.

Something isn’t right.  My memories have been taken, wiped clean, but dreams begin to slip into my conscious mind.  I can’t let anyone know when that happens, or they’ll remove my memories again.  Somewhere inside of me, I know I need to remember something important.

I’m fighting a war I don’t understand, and the one woman I rely on can’t be trusted.

About the Author:

Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her family and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker, and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys science fiction movies, masquerading as a zombie, is a HUGE Star Wars fan, and member of the 501st Legion of Stormtroopers. When the geek fun runs out, she also loves soccer in any and all forms – especially the Columbus Crew, Arsenal and Bayern Munich.  Savage holds a degree in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories.

Stalk Shay Here: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Swoon-worthy Justin Banks is FINALLY HERE in

RoomHate by Penelope Ward!

AVAILABLE ON ALL RETAILERS:

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Blurb

From New York Times Bestselling Author, Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.

Sharing a summer house with a hot-as-hell roommate should be a dream come true, right?

Not when it’s Justin…the only person I’d ever loved…who now hates me.

When my grandmother died and left me half of the house on Aquidneck Island, there was a catch: the other half would go to the boy she helped raise.

The same boy who turned into the teenager whose heart I broke years ago.

The same teenager who’s now a man with a hard body and a hardass personality to match.

I hadn’t seen him in years, and now we’re living together because neither one of us is willing to give up the house.

The worst part? He didn’t come alone.

I’d soon realize there’s a thin line between love and hate. I could see through that smug smile. Beneath it all…the boy is still there. So is our connection.

The problem is…now that I can’t have Justin, I’ve never wanted him more.

Author’s note – RoomHate is a full-length standalone novel. Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

Check out our 5 smooches review HERE.

RoomHate Excerpt

Copyright © 2016 by Penelope Ward

His eyes darted to the side, and he noticed me standing there. We just stared at each other. It was ironic, but the only times I could ever feel the remnants of our old connection were in fleeting moments of silent eye contact. Sometimes moments of silence spoke the loudest.

I left him alone again, making my way back down the hall and into the restaurant to tend to the customers I’d been ignoring.

Things really started to get busy. Without Jade working tonight, we were short-staffed, and I was having a hard time keeping up with the orders. Sandy’s had indoor and outdoor seating. Normally, I would only be working one section, but tonight I was going back and forth between the two.

It was nice out, so I knew they would have Justin performing outside. I kept glancing over to the small stage to see if he was there. It was past eight, and he hadn’t made an appearance yet.

Sometime close to eight-thirty, I was in the middle of serving a large party of ten when I first heard it: the chilling sound of a soulful voice that was not familiar in the least. He gave no introduction. No warning. He just started to sing out the first few words, followed by the strum of his guitar. The song that Justin had chosen to start with was a cover of Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers.

The entire room soon quieted down, and all eyes were on the stunning blond male specimen with the spotlight shining down on him. Despite the fact that I was carrying a large round tray of dirty dishes, I couldn’t move. The vibration of his thick, smoky singing voice had completely paralyzed me, penetrating my body and soul.

Aside from the lone teardrop that fell the night he lost it on me during steak dinner, I hadn’t shed any more tears—until now. It was all too much. Hearing how different his voice sounded, how he’d trained it over the years, was a wake-up call as to how much I had missed. All of the hours of practice that must have gone into honing that beautiful voice, and I wasn’t there for any of it. The guilt, the emotions, the reality of a decade gone…everything started to pummel me at once. Not to mention the song—about a girl leaving. It probably had nothing to do with me, but in my mind, it sure as hell felt like it did.

About the Author:

Penelope Ward

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 11-year-old girl with autism and a 9-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

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Other books from Penelope Ward

Sins of Sevin

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Cocky Bastard

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B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY

Stepbrother Dearest

Amazon http://amzn.to/1mFNMeg

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kobo: http://bit.ly/1fJaaBs

Gemini

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1vgk1SE

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Jake Undone (Jake #1)

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My Skylar

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F

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Jake Understood (Jake #2)

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Set the Pace

Excerpt

© 2016 by Kim Karr

Jasper Storm

Control is an absolute necessity when driving fast on the road, and there is no other car that applies force to the pavement as directly as the Storm. Whether turning the wheel, accelerating the gas, or stepping on the brake, I am always in contact with the road, and therefore I always have control.

Too bad I can’t say the same for my life, which right now seems to be spinning out of control.

Driving through the streets of the old Cass Corridor, I manage to suppress the bad memories of my childhood from surfacing. Sure, the area’s history is a sad cocktail of drugs, prostitution, and crippling poverty. And even though this section of midtown is a shadow of its former self, I can still see the neglect in the thoughtless demolition. However, as I come to a stop in front of Charlotte’s building, I can also spot change and hope for the future.

Then again, her building isn’t the grimy brick front with a dark lobby lit only by streaks of light through cracked windowpanes that I grew up in. Her stairs aren’t rotting, her hallway isn’t a putrid shade of green, the carpet isn’t worn, nor does it smell like piss, and there isn’t the yelling going on that makes me want to cover my ears.

This isn’t the same place where I grew up.

Slowly, I glance around. She’s right—her building isn’t that bad. As I take the stairs and look out the window, I think I might have been a bit harder on her than I needed to be.

Walking down the hallway, I can’t suppress the smile on my face when I see that her bike is just outside the door. This means she’s planning on coming with me. After my confession last night, I wasn’t exactly sure she would.

Way too soon, I’m standing in front of her apartment.

Not quite ready for this, I give myself the pep talk. This is not a date.

Not.

A.

Date.

Answers.

You’re looking for answers.

That’s all.

You don’t need to be thinking of her in any other way than as someone you used to know. You look only at her face. You definitely don’t watch the way she moves. You don’t need to feel guilty because you f*cked her co-worker. You don’t even remember much about it anyway. And for fuck’s sake, you don’t need to be thinking about how good this girl would feel wrapped around you.

With that out of the way, I’m feeling clear-headed and focused. Before that changes, I hurry up and knock.

No one answers.

I knock again.

Maybe she changed her mind and she isn’t going to come with me after all.

Feeling impatient, I knock one more time.

“Just a minute,” I hear from inside.

The sound of her voice makes me feel desperate to see her. That’s not a good thing. I should leave. I really should. I seriously consider it for about a hot minute. Nothing but bad can come out of this. But my feet seem cemented in place and when I hear the click-clack of a lock and it begins to turn, it’s too late.

Slowly the door opens and she comes into view. As soon as she does, the wind is knocked right out of my lungs. She looks a little disheveled but all the more beautiful because of it. Feeling like I’ve been zapped, I’m overwhelmed by the energy between us and it holds me in place. Everything about her is like it used to be—just the sexier, hotter, grown-up version. Her hair is pulled back, but even so, it still looks wild and untamed. She always said her hair was a bother and she just wanted it out of the way. Because I used to really like her hair, it always made me laugh.

I still like her hair, and the fact that she pulled it back because it might be a bother makes me want to laugh now. That, along with the toothpaste on her lip, is just too much. I try to hold back my laughter but fail miserably.

“What?” she asks with mild curiosity.

“Nothing,” I say with a shake of my head. “It’s just I wasn’t sure you’d come with me today.”

She looks at me as if considering her words, and I use this time to study her further. She’s not wearing any makeup and everything about her face screams how gorgeous she is. For no reason at all, my chest tightens.

It doesn’t mean anything.

So what if it took less than 1.4 seconds for that hurricane within me to start batting around.

It means nothing.

But then that fucking myriad of conflicting emotions starts to mess with my mind and yeah, I realize, it means something. Just like that, it’s as if my pep talk never took place. Still, I can handle this. Find out what she knows. Drop her off. And say goodbye—forever.

How hard can it be?

Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby it would be her favorite. It’s how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful.