You've probably heard of me. Reclusive fantasy author turned famous when his series got developed into a mega TV hit. Except now I'm way behind deadline, and the whole world is waiting to see what I'll write next. The pressure is getting to me, and I. Can't. Write.
Cue: small town where people don't recognize me.
Cue: my assistant insisting on a personal chef to keep me fed and nothing more.
Cue: finding the first bit of inspiration I've felt in months whenever she's around . . . Am I a walking cliche now, or what?
Dani Cooper seems to have her own hurdles to jump this holiday season. Newly divorced, looking for her next move. She's the first person who's seen me for me in way too long. And I see her, too-as way more than just an employee, a divorcee, a cook. She's becoming my muse . . .
But when my Christmas deadline hits, will it spell the end of us, too?
Contains mature themes.
I'm a walking contradiction.
School principal who liberally drops the F bomb. Fiercely independent yet willing to auction myself off for charity. Serial monogamist who's down for a no-strings one-night stand.
Except now I've gone from one-working-ovary to coparent in the time it took a stick to turn blue. F. Bomb.
Ian Donovan may be a richer-than-hell venture capitalist, but he's no Prince Charming ready to sweep me off my feet. Good thing I don't need him. I've been doing fine on my own for forty years, and I'm not about to start changing that now.
Ultrasounds, swollen feet, midnight cravings? Bring. It. On.
But why is it when you finally swear off men, you meet one who's too sexy-and determined we can make it work?
Contains mature themes.
Don't drink and text. Even on the cusp of forty, I had to learn that the hard way. After discovering my best friend, who I was supposed to grow old and single with, got engaged, I drowned my loneliness in one too many Old Fashioneds and woke up with thirty-nine responses from every available man in my phone.
Through the absolute mortification of thirty-seven rejections, shockingly, I realize two men have said yes. Behind Bachelor Door #1 is Rob, my old high school crush: the comfortable, dependable boy-next-door. Behind Bachelor Door #2 is Darius, the exciting, flashy news reporter about to hit it big. Does this mean I'll have to get out of my yoga pants and actually go on dates now?
Dax, the local bartender who got me into this disaster in the first place-remember the Old Fashioneds?-can't believe I've given up on finding true love. What does a tattooed, broody twentysomething know about carving out a future for yourself, anyway?
Too bad the further into this hot mess I get, the less I know about who I am. And I'm going to have to figure out exactly what I need if I ever want to find a true happily ever after.
Contains mature themes.
