Barbra Lazzarini

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company. 

The first time we met was at a party. Your ex arrived to show off the person he'd left you for last month, and you asked me to pretend to be your date. I was more than happy to help. You were attractive, smart and witty--and that kiss we shared? It left me wanting you for days. The second time we met was in my office on campus where we were both surprised to discover you were the new master’s degree student in poetry that I would be working with. You promised to be professional. I did no such thing. The late nights and intense study sessions spent alongside you majorly throw me off my game. I want you, and I fight with myself daily over this fact. I know I'm crass, that my sexual innuendos and dirty mouth annoy you, but I live for those two bright spots of color in your cheeks. If that's the only reaction I can get out of you, I'll gladly take it. You hate Mondays so every Monday I slip an anonymous poem into your bag and your smile gets me through the week. I think I'm falling for you, and I know it's wrong. I know that I'm only supposed to be the adviser to your program and nothing more, but here's the thing. I think you're falling for me too.

At one point during the party, Alessandra said, “There’s nothing like a girl’s first love.” I knew she was talking about the first smash hit by my band, 22 Goats. Alessandra said it was the first song she’d heard by us and it “hit her like a ton of bricks”. Ironic, seeing as how I was having the same reaction from being in her presence.   

I signed on the dotted line. A marriage contract to seal my union with the devil. I thought I knew what I was doing. His money and name were mine for the taking. But Camden Percy always gets exactly what he wants. And what he wants is me - my body, my obedience, my surrender. He wants to break me. But I'm Katherine Van Pelt. I'll never break. I'll never beg. I'll never give in. Except I promised him one more thing - a baby.

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident. 

I never intended to pick up a naked hitchhiker wearing nothing but a guitar. A guitar. Really. I don't collect guys like that (don't ask what kind of guys I do collect), but when you spot a blond, tanned, sculpted man with a gorgeous smile and his thumb poking up and practically begging you to stop - you stop. And I definitely never thought I'd be staring into the bright blue eyes of Trevor Connor, the lead singer for Random Acts of Crazy, an indie rock star I followed like the slobbering fileshare fangirl I am. 

Darby has always been "that" guy. The guy that no man, woman, or child wants around their loved one. See, a long time ago he made some bad decisions. Those bad decisions have haunted him ever since. No matter what he does, people still see him as the town’s screw up. The boy that sold his soul to the Devil. Enter Waylynn Jennings. Waylynn has watched Darby Valentine from afar for a very long time. She’s witnessed the changes in him and knows the only reason he’s so mean is to protect the man that lies within.

“I’m hiring you to do more than guard her, Zander,” my new boss explained. “You’re gonna be her rock. Her human Valium. Her trusted friend. And she’s gonna be your mission from God.” “So I’m her babysitter?” “Her babysitter, her bodyguard, her f--king service doggie. Whatever she needs or wants, that’s what you’ll be. Anything except her booty call.” The vein in my new boss’s neck bulged. “Touch her and I’ll do more than fire your ass, Zander. I’ll rip off your balls.” My buddies laughed when I told them about my ridiculous new job. 

Keane Morgan wouldn't return any of my calls or texts, and I was pissed as hell about it. I didn't want to drive from Seattle to L.A. with the guy any more than he wanted to drive with me, but I had no frickin' choice in the matter - at least, not if I wanted to use his brother Dax's coveted parking spot at UCLA. Okay, so it turned out Keane was objectively gorgeous, and, fine, pretty funny, too. But did he have to be so damned in love with himself? I mean, jeez, the cocky way he flashed those dimples was just so orchestrated.

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.