When life gives you lemons, put them in your bra and make you tatas look bigger. If I had done that at fourteen, maybe I would have avoided the unfortunate nickname of “Flatty Cami.”
It all started when I met Brody Murphy. I was eight years old and it was love at first sight.
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, he showed me his true colors six years later. We argued every time I saw him, which was a lot since he was my brother’s best friend. The hostility became outright hate when he coined that nickname I mentioned—the one that I didn’t leave behind until I graduated high school.
The day he got married and moved away was probably the luckiest day of my life and since then, I graduated college, started a business, and grew boobs so the whole nickname thing shouldn’t still bother me. Yes, I know it shouldn’t, but some grudges are worth holding.
Now, Brody’s back in town, divorced, and with his adorable daughter in tow. But he’s not the same boy I once knew. He’s a hot single dad who makes me laugh and it’s getting harder and harder to remember all the reasons I should hate him.
There’s one thing I’ve learned in life: men may come and men may go, but pizza is forever. Particularly when you have a problem.
Mine is that I can’t fall in love. Unless you count pizza. Because I definitely love me some pizza.
What was I saying? Oh, yeah, that’s right. My little problem.
After my latest failed attempt at love—with a man, not food—I needed a break, not just from dating, but from my life. What better time to take a vacation than when you realize you’re defective?
That’s how I ended up visiting my best friend, Cam. And how I found Ben Murphy. For the first time in my life, I felt more yearning for a man than I did for a deep dish supreme with extra cheese and it was scary as hell.
But unlike a pizza, Ben has the ability to break my heart.
You know the old saying: don’t put the cart before the horse? I lived by that saying. I plotted and I planned and I worked my tail off to make something of myself. It’s the way that I’ve always lived my life.
That’s why I was a twenty-five year old virgin with two more years of graduate school and two jobs. I didn’t have time for a man in my life, and I really didn’t want one either. I had goals and they definitely didn’t include falling in love.
But I did want to have sex because one thing that had never been in my plans was to lose my virginity after the age of twenty-seven. I always thought it would happen in high school. But having four older brothers kind of ruined that. No one in their right mind would cross my brothers.
So I did what I always do… I made a plan.
But there was no way to plan for J.J. McClane or what would come…well, in about nine months.
About the author Born and raised in Texas, C.C. Wood writes saucy paranormal and contemporary romances featuring strong, sassy women and the men that love them. If you ever meet C.C. in person, keep in mind that A self-professed hermit, C.C. loves to stay home, where she reads, writes, cooks, and watches TV. She can usually be found drinking coffee or wine as she spends time with her hubby, daughter, and two beagles. Represented by Stephanie Phillips at SBR Media. Contact firstname.lastname@example.org for inquiries. many of her characters are based on people she knows, so anything you say or do is likely to end up in a book one day.
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