A Rom Com
What’s one way to make a lasting impression on a man? Shoot him.
When I accidentally send a bullet flying through a handsome stranger I’m mortified. When I find out he’s a doctor who treats children with life-threatening heart problems? I’m determined to make it up to him.
Playing nursemaid to Dr. Oliver Kinkaid is easier said than done. At least while having to pretend I’m not attracted to him. He’s a decade older than me, supremely sexy and has his life together. What’s not to swoon over?
Especially since I’m scraping by as a teacher, sharing an apartment with two friends and an exciting Friday night means binge-watching Dateline episodes with a bag of potato chips. Not much to swoon over here.
Until I find a hidden letter in our century old apartment that predicts I’ll meet my soul mate and live happily ever after.
Things start to develop between Oliver and me. Our mutual attraction grows to combustible levels and I can’t help but wonder if the letter was right–is he my perfect match?
Then I find out Oliver’s secret and I want to put another bullet through him.
A Rom Com
Damn, the man has the body of a god. Like a real-life statue of David or something. It’s unfair that someone so annoying looks so delicious.
Keane and I have been enemies since childhood. He thinks I’m a Goody Two-shoes and I think he’s an arrogant a$$hole.
Years later nothing’s changed except the fact that we’re cohabitating in the same apartment along with his sister, who’s also my best friend.
Even though I’m fighting like hell to keep the city from tearing down the building he wants to replace with a new restaurant, we somehow find ourselves doing the horizontal mambo.
Maybe it’s the magic of the letter I found in our ancient apartment that predicted I’m going to meet the man of my dreams. Or maybe it’s just hormones. But just when I start to buy into us as a couple, someone from his past shows up with a shocking secret that Keane’s adamant is untrue.
Now I’m questioning if I can really trust the guy who told the entire football team in high school that I still slept with a stuffie at fifteen years old. In my experience, the answer is no.