Love Like That

An average romance author? Lately, the only romance action I’ve gotten is from my novels. A gorgeous cover model? He’s handsome and nice and way out of my league. A serious crush? I should know better, yet, I can’t help but fall for him. A chance I can make him mine? Only one way to find out. Put him on a book cover and ask him to a book signing.

It started with a not-so-innocent text I sent to the guy I was casually dating. Things had been moving slowly, and it was time to spice things up. Me: I need you to come over. I want to feel you inside me. Him: Who is this? Me: Indy. Who’s this? Him: Wrong number. Me: Oh crap. I’m sorry. Him: I’m not. What’s your address? Now, I have to decide whether I want to block him and text the guy I meant to in the first place. Or do something outrageously bold and tell him to come over. Me: . . .

My First Mistake: Breaking up with my boyfriend right before I turn thirty. My Second Mistake: Requesting my expert-in-the-sack best friend, Griffin, give me a leg-shaking orgasm as a birthday gift. My Third Mistake: Lying to myself that I wouldn’t fall for my best friend just because we slept together. My Fourth Mistake: Accidentally telling Griffin I love him. And losing our friendship forever.

Dear Lydia, I need help with my neighbor. She doesn’t like me, but I can’t stop thinking about having sex with her. Half of me wants to screw her, and the other half wants to choke her. Or choke her while I screw her. How do I put her out of my mind?