Rachel Lynn Solomon

A low whistle rolls through the crowd. Five thousand dollars—that’s more than double our prize from last year. It would cover the first-year tuition my scholarships didn’t.

I could buy so many books

MOST RUTHLESS KILL: Alexis Torres Aiden Gallagher, by way of breaking up with him

“I am. This… this feels real. I want to be with you.”

“I love you, Rowan Roth,”

“Hate and love are two sides of the same coin. As the saying goes.”

It’s that every time I try to move forward, something is waiting to tug me right back.

I didn’t think rolling up the sleeves of a man’s shirt could be erotic, but here we are.

I’ve never had a one-night stand. Maybe there’s some truth to what Wyatt said about me being a Relationship Girl, but I think the more accurate statement is that I’m simply an Anxiety Girl. I’ve read too many murder mysteries to go home with a stranger.

“Your body is just . . .” He trails off with a ragged breath, tracing a reverent thumb down my bra straps. Along the thin cotton, where my nipples are tight and desperate for his touch. “Wish I could tell that Tolkien nerd that things’ll really turn around for him one day.”
“You’re thinking about Lord of the Rings right now?”

You’re not my last choice, Chandler. But you might be my last hope.”
Oh.
Turns out, I don’t hate seeing a man grovel.