the man of her dreams, and an escape from her painful past. She’s
fantasized about him for years, and when he mysteriously walks into
her summer teaching gig, she never dreamed she’d question whether he
was the one she truly wanted.
Academy…he’s her boss, he still has her heart strings tied in
knots—and he’s hiding secrets of his own.
Troy may have been my boss, but that didn’t make him perfect. How could he have forgotten our night together? “Maybe someone with such an ailing memory shouldn’t be teaching summer school. Or diagnosing his staff.” I snapped.
I felt him smile. How can you feel someone smile? It only made me more furious with him.
He leaned against the tree next to us, arms crossed over his chest.
I watched the way his biceps flexed. Stop. Looking. At. His. Muscles.
“June 6th, one year ago to the date last Friday. You had cherry pink lipstick, that actually tasted like cherries. Your hair was red then, and smelled like wildflowers. You wore a yellow sweater. V-neck. And a black lace bra. Clap in the front. You ordered the New England clam chowder, but ate dessert first—s’mores cheesecake.”
A pinprick of regret pierced me over my earlier comment. Clearly he did remember—and that set in motion a whole other range of emotions. Embarrassment, humiliation, and a small flush of arousal.
My face had to be red, but that didn’t stop him.
“We went to my place, because you didn’t want to go back to yours. Then like Cinderella, you disappeared, just when we were about to…”
“Okay. Okay. So your memory isn’t that bad,” I said, holding up my hands. I’d give anything for a hole to fall into right now. People would be showing up soon and this was embarrassing enough without an audience.
“And just like the prince, I tried to find you. But since it wasn’t a shoe you left behind, going door to door would have been, awkward.”
Right…because leaving a shoe behind would have been way classier than the lacy black bra I’d abandoned when I sprinted from his townhouse.
He flashed another smile and I wanted to crawl into myself.
foot in this reality and one foot in another, one of her own
imagining. So it follows that she would grow up to write about and
sculpt the characters from those enchanting worlds she knows and
loves so well. As a fan of everything romantic, her young adult
novels are populated with witches and vampires and faeries. Michele
resides in southern Canada with her hubby and son who indulge her
passions for writing, reading, lattes, and most of all
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