It's not that I don't believe Silas when he tells me who he really is. It's that I don't want to. Of all the families in all the world, that boy had to be a Fairfield.
In retrospect, I should have guessed as much. A guy sneaking around the Acre Hotel, so irrationally handsome it leaves me breathless? There's only one bloodline he could've come from.
One night. That's how long it takes before I'm hooked.
Silas shows me, over and over again, that he isn't like his family. He comes from a life of bad luck and hard work, like me. We could have something incredible. And for a while, we do.
I give him everything. Every piece of me I've never given anyone else. I should have known it would come back to break me.
After all, he is a Fairfield.
Contains mature themes.
Sharp suit, fabled smile, and a sexy shyness guaranteed to equal one incredible lay. Translation: Levi Fairfield is impossible not to want.
He's also damaged goods. Not that I care; I don't do relationships. I do casual. And going after men whose hearts are too shattered to function is the easiest way to get it. One night. That's always enough for me. Then a few things happen that I didn't count on. Like how hard it is to get Levi out of my head, or the fact I've never experienced anything like the night he gave me. The fact that, that very same night, I lose everything. Now our one-time deal is turning into something more. Something real. I can handle it, though. I have to.
Because even if I believed in such a thing, Levi and I aren't soulmates. We're roommates.
Black leather, quick wit, and the ability to get on every single one of my nerves . . . while lighting them on fire. I can think of a hundred ways to describe Mara, from the moment we meet. When she shows up on my doorstep with nothing to her name, I can't turn her away. I should. But the truth is, she needs me.
The bigger truth? I need her.
Contains mature themes.
Wasted, covered in glitter, and wearing the ugliest dress in existence. Also known as: me, the night I stumble into bed with a Fairfield. Cohen isn't my type. Not even a little. I mean, other than his legendary family genes, and a smirk that leaves me as breathless as it does enraged.
One night. That's all I want. Then daylight comes, and all I want is to forget him. There's just one problem: that night was too incredible to black out. Actually, there are two problems. Now my sister wants me to be her surrogate. To carry her child. To be pregnant. But, as luck would have it . . . I already am.
* * *
Wasted, hungover, in that dress or out of it: there's not a single version of Juliet I don't find beautiful. Including knocked-up.
I'm a joker. I'm immature. She's got a long list of reasons why I'm not her type. But thank God for hormones: now she needs something. Bad. And I can give it to her, in about a hundred different ways.
I promise her our arrangement will stay purely physical. I'm a liar.
Contains mature themes.
