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Kissing a complete stranger shouldn’t be a life altering experience, but with him it was. One look into his mischievous hazel eyes and our lips were colliding without a second thought.
Now, months later, not only do I know his name, we’ve also become friends. Good friends. The kind of friends that kiss and cuddle together, all night long. The kind of friends that fantasize about being horizontal or vertical…and very much naked.
I’d never been attracted to the football playing jocks, but Nick’s different. When he’s not being a professional flirt, he’s undeniably sweet and funny. For every excuse my mind comes up with to keep my distance, my body finds two reasons to give him a chance.
Can he make the final drive into my heart or will I keep him in the friend zone?
DRIVE is a sports romcom standalone.
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January – Four months ago
The happiness radiating out of every single pore of my sister Reagan is a welcome change. I always knew she and her fiancé Noah were meant for each other, it just took them four years to find their way back together.
However, sometimes things don’t work out so well. Fate has a way of crashing through the door uninvited and destroying our plans for the future. I should know. I’m well versed when it comes to fate’s assholish qualities. How else can I explain the guy I’ve been in love with for the past three years sleeping with a close friend of mine. She’s an ex-friend now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she ended up exactly where I imagined I would – as Mrs. Joseph Baldwin. One drunken hook up between them and she’s two months pregnant with his son.
They’ve been married for two weeks and twelve hours, now. I only know, because I can’t seem to fucking forget.
How do you let go of the exact date that your life was over as you knew it?
Once they said their I do’s it was the final gasp of our relationship. We’re dead and things will never be the way they used to.
If only I could bury us.
I know; I deserve better. He’s a lying, cheating dick who wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him in the ass. He gave me up after all and I pride myself on being the best person I can be. If you Google ‘good girl,’ I’m pretty sure my picture is the first thing that comes up.
Glancing down, I run my hand over the soft material of the pale pink dress I’m wearing. Even the clothes I choose are appropriate. Pink and pearls are two of my favorite things, at least that’s what everyone thinks, and I’ve never done anything to correct their faulty assumptions. How could I when ninety-nine percent of the time I’m wearing both?
What they don’t know, what I won’t even admit to myself is that I’m sick of my good girl image. At this point it’s starting to feel like a persona I’ve adopted to make everyone like me – everyone except me. I can’t stand this sickeningly sweet pink person I’ve become.
Shaking my head, I gulp down some more of the champagne Noah supplied for their surprise engagement party. He asked my sister Reagan to marry him earlier tonight and had us all waiting here to celebrate with them. The two of them haven’t stopped smiling since they arrived. That’s the way love’s supposed to make you feel. It shouldn’t change you for the worse or turn you into a meek bobblehead who only knows how to nod their head in agreement.
When did I become a doormat that Joseph wiped his feet on – and a pink one at that?
It may have started with him, but it’s spilled over into the rest of my life and now I’m the ultimate people pleaser. I please everyone except myself.
I’m tired of being me. I want to be brash and bold, two things I forgot how to be when I met Joseph my senior year of college. Instead, I let him mold me into the perfect little accessory on his arm – the perfect aspiring politician’s wife.
And when push came to shove he ended up sleeping with my friend who’s the exact opposite. She has a list of ex-lovers a mile long and she never wears pink or pearls.
How’s that for irony?
Drinking back the rest of the champagne, I frown at my empty glass. Guess I need a refill. Each one goes down smoother than the last and makes me feel a little better.
“Would you like another?” A deep voice to my left asks as a large tan masculine hand appears in front of me. My head spins around to see who’s speaking and I unsteadily brace myself against the wall behind me. The champagne is affecting my balance or maybe it’s the sight of this stranger’s devastatingly handsome face.
He flashes me a quick grin showing straight white teeth that can only be achieved with braces and a possible dimple in his left cheek. “Would you like some more champagne?” he offers again, holding the glass up in front of me.
My father always told me not to accept drinks from strangers, but there’s something kind about his hazel eyes that has me curling my hand around the thin glass. Our fingers brush when he pulls his hand away. His skin so warm to the touch, shoots a mad flurry of excitement from my stomach to my chest like fireworks being set off in a cloudless night sky.
My eyes sweep up his tall stature, connecting with his. Heated interest flickers in the hazel depths before they lazily glide down to linger on my mouth. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I watch as he continues to study every inch of my face.