Me and love go together like oil water.
Hence why I’ve never been with a man. What’s the big deal anyway?
The kind of men I like never like me, and the men who do like me?
Oh right, there aren’t any.
The last one ended up falling in love with my best friend.
I have bigger things to worry about anyway.
Like saving my library from demolition.
Until he shows up.
A tattooed bad boy with a body that belongs on a romance book and eyes that undress me with every glance.
Gulp.
He’s trouble.
Ex-con kind of trouble.
Hooking up in the car kind of trouble.
I’m not that girl—at least I didn’t used to be.
He’s the definition of what I shouldn’t want.
So it begs the question.
Why him?
