On her wedding anniversary, Esme's husband demands a divorce He accuses "You got promoted because you slept with your boss!" Esme decides to invite her boss to a bar as a form of revenge. To her surprise, the sexy single dad actually shows up— and soon moves in next door with his two daughters...
View MoreSpeechless and somewhat curious by his intentions, I do what he says, drinking some of the water as he stands back up and heads to my fridge. To my utter surprise, Derek starts pulling things out and tossing them on my counter. What is he doing right now? Robbing me? It takes about f
“I’m not playing this game any longer. I’m making you dinner, and the only thing I want from you is to find the courage and strength to open up about whatever it is that you’re struggling through.” Rolling my eyes, I respond, “Haven’t we done this enough? Back and forth, round and round, and
“Home sweet home,” I grumble as I slam the front door closed. I let everything in my arms drop to the floor and slowly make my way to the couch to lie down. The utter exhaustion that runs through my veins is enough to face plant down on the soft material without a second thought. After this
Another step forward from Derek. He’s maybe five or six feet away from me now, closing in on me. It feels like I’m absolutely suffocating. “Then let me buy you a drink after work. As an apology. From your friend.” Is that what I want from him? Do I want a friendship, or is that too c
Derek’s face finds mine, his own dark eyes baring into my soul. “Esme.” It’s only one word, but God does it pack a powerful punch. “I’m fine.” I don’t even mean to say it so quickly; it’s almost like I’m pushing back at him for something. “What?” He asks.
Aside from his attitude, of course. “Let me spell this out for you since you seem to be misunderstanding me.” He grabs my arm, and the blood starts to drain from my face. “Get your hand off of me,” I sneer, ready to either spit in his face for touching me or punch him in his stupid n
Ken breathes out his mouth, his smile pulling up into a “Well, what are you going to do?” His shrug comes next, and I struggle not to narrow my brows at him. “I guess because I’m here now we should get started though, shall we?” Ken asks, choosing to sit in the chair across from me.
I rub as much sleep out of my eyes as possible, staring at my reflection while I stagger another yawn. Sleep has evaded me again, and I groan with the realization I have a long day ahead of me. I’m not sure what exactly is causing this painful insomnia: the embarrassment of what happened wit
“Oh, of course!” He says, seemingly understanding that it’s time to go. “Sorry!” “No, don’t worry!” I reply back, feeling somewhat bad for making him think whatever it is he’s now feeling. “I actually have a lot of work to do, and I didn’t even realize the time.” Is that the
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