I’ve been warned on several occasions about southern men - with their sexy accents, charming manners, and the ability to easily get any woman in bed - which is something I’ll be avoiding. Being a professional photographer has many perks - traveling around the world, calling all the shots, and working with subject matter that isn’t bad to look at - but Colton Langston with his washboard abs and baby blue eyes, could care less about my current project. He’s trouble, I know it, and he’s determined to make me work for every single photo.

Never trust a man who answers the front door wearing nothing more than a pair of low-cut jeans and a panty-melting smirk. That should've been my first sign. I write about guys just like him for a living - sexy and charming, yet reluctant to get into a serious relationship. His body screams sex appeal, but his condescending personality makes him a classic f--kboy. And I want nothing to do with that.

College parties, beer, and one-night stands - that was my life. Now, I hunt down criminals, ethically or not, but if no one's asking, then I'm not telling. Drinking and women are still included, although I can't seem to forget the girl who almost gave me her virginity. She would've until I realized she was too young, and I wasn't looking to get thrown into jail.

The night we met in the dimly lit bar, she looked like a brunette bombshell, and I wanted to learn her deepest secrets. With sun-kissed skin and soulful bedroom eyes, she was pure temptation, and I was mesmerized. As one drink led to two, I craved more of her playful banter and taunting lips. Resisting her wasn't an option, and we quickly became a desperate mess of tangled limbs and hot kisses. She tasted like the sweetest sin, but I was no saint.

I saw her first. Blonde. Gorgeous. Feisty. I was smitten. But it didn’t matter because she chose him, and he was my best friend and roommate. I’d never be able to compete with that, so I pushed her away instead. It was easy when she lived hours away, and I didn’t have to see her every day, but then she moved in with us. Now, I’m screwed. From her singing in the shower every morning, dancing in the kitchen while she makes coffee, and doing yoga in our living room, I can’t stop thinking about her in all the wrong ways.