Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
When I landed a new job in a brand-new city, I needed a place to live—fast. the spare bedroom in a suburbia McMansion with a pool, wine fridge, and stove that probably costs more than my car. Perfect setup, right?
Wrong. My new roommate saw me practically naked on night one. Then I catch him doing something that rhymes with “disasterbating.”
Half hockey player, half Viking, Turner “Skaggs” Hutton III is the human embodiment of a golden retriever and is off-limits. Which would be easy if the chemistry between us wasn’t hotter than this blazing Texas sun…
The chemistry? Molten.
The tension? Physically painful.
slow burn with zero impulse control. tight spaces with his hand on my thigh during a cramped car ride… And could someone please explain to me why I find it so damn sexy watching his massive hands choose the prefect LEGO brick? Send help!
He’s sworn off distractions to save his career. I’m focused on building mine and certainly not looking for a boyfriend. But when one too many lapses in judgment and one missed cycle leads to an emergency trip to the pharmacy…
Well. Things could get complicated
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
prologue
. . .
Poppy
This is bonkers.
I got the job in Houston and I’m moving.
Again.
But it’s a promotion, with benefits. Vacation days. Paid sick leave and personal days—and a security clearance keycard badge that I fully intend to bedazzle.
I GOT THE FREAKING JOB!
Better yet? The gig is in Houston, aka: home of my best friend Nova and her fiancé Luca, which means built in community. Built in support system. Built in fun. Also home of highways, cattle, and cowboys.
This isn’t the first time I’ve packed up my life and started over somewhere new—but this is the first time it feels… different. Less like an escape, more like a decision.
I chose this.
The job is good. Better than good.
I’ll be leading the cybersecurity team at a rising tech firm, and they’re already throwing around words like promotion track and stock options.
Yay, me!
I take a peek at my phone for the third time in ten seconds, as if staring at it was going to make it ring. Ring, dammit!
When it finally does, I’m standing in the center of my living room—well, soon-to-be-former living room—surrounded by a crime scene of empty boxes, bubble wrap, and one half-eaten sleeve of Oreos I’ve been using for morale.
It finally rings, and I answer so fast I nearly dislocate a thumb.
“Are you wearing it right now?” I blurt out, needing to see her hand.
Again.
Nova, my best friend, is newly engaged and the size of the ring damn near knocked me off my feet when I saw it. Like, literally—I tripped over a shoe rack and almost ate carpet.
She lifts her hand with a smug little smile, the rock catching the light like it’s auditioning for a role in a heist movie.
“Jesus,” I mutter, squinting. “Is that a diamond or a disco ball?”
She laughs, breathless. Happy. “I haven’t stopped staring at it. I almost ran into a display of light bulbs at the Home Depot yesterday.”
Don’t blame her.
We squeal at the same time, which makes me laugh and wipe a tear I didn’t expect. Because it’s not just about the ring. Or the proposal. Or the fact that she got the produce aisle moment of a lifetime.
It’s the fact that my best friend is in love.
So damn in love.
And it’s happening. And I’m going to be there. In the same city. Starting over but definitely not alone.
“Please, please, please help me find an apartment,” I say. “Preferably one with a view. And a pool. And a rooftop garden.”
Nova rolls her eyes at my demands.
“I can do you one better.” She props her phone against the tile backsplash in her kitchen and goes about her business wiping down her counter. “Are you ready for this?”
I stop taping a box of knickknacks I’m donating to the Salvation Army. “Hit me.”
Nova stops wiping and grins at the camera.
“Luca’s house, the one he owns not too far from here, has a spare bedroom.”
My ears perk up. “Spare bedroom?”
She resumes cleaning. “Unless the guys haven’t moved into the primary bedroom, yeah. There’s a room that’s available and I’m one hundred percent positive they wouldn’t care if you moved in.”
My spine straightens like I’ve just been told I won a luxury yacht and free skin-care for life.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
‘Cause I’m interested!
Nova holds up her hands. “I’m saying if you’re willing to live in the suburbs with two semi-domesticated male athletes and their ill-mannered dog, the room is yours.”
Semi-domesticated? “Are they clean?”
She hesitates.
“Nova.”
Her shoulders lift up and down. “They try their best?”