Giving You - La série

I just wanted a freaking cup of coffee. After all, hard-charging lawyers like me require caffeine to survive court battles. I didn’t expect my life to change. I didn’t expect the unbelievably hot guy behind the counter—all green eyes and golden surfer curls—to tilt my world. And I REALLY didn’t expect his particular brand of laid-back alpha male style. I’d been so secure in my own little world. One with Rules about what I do—and what I definitely do NOT do. Especially in bed. Rule Number 9? No dirty talking? There’s no earthly reason why I’d want anyone to do that. I may be stuck-up, but my Rules kept me safe and happy. Okay, I wasn’t happy. Depressed and repressed is more like it. But am I ready for Mister Barista to obliterate every Rule in my book?

He’s just so infuriating. A tall, dark-eyed, slow-talkin’ cowboy who wants nothing to do with me because he’s a card-carrying Republican and I represent everything he hates. Veganism. Bio-diesel cars. Liberal causes. Yeah, you get the idea. I couldn’t care less if he (or anyone else) doesn’t agree with me. Problem is, our chemistry. There was that one time I saw him naked. (And it was impressive.) That other time we kissed. Oops. Even if we could get past our political differences, there’s another big issue. He’s now my boss.

Life has a funny way of imitating art. I write romance novels, right? So of course Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome would move in next door. Clad in his beautiful suits, with those unfathomable blue eyes and that perfect dark hair. I can’t stop watching him. Of course he’d be mysterious. Of course he’d be a workaholic I rarely see. Of course he’d reduce me to a stalker, paying attention to what he does every day. I know there’s more going on with him than meets the eye. And I know I caught HIS eye that day I wore my tiny bikini to the pool in our complex. I pack a pretty punch in a tiny, Latina package. My jerk ex-husband doesn’t need to know about any of this. Especially not since we’re in an ugly custody battle. Having Jake be my neighbor is good for research purposes only. Yeah. That’s it.

So maybe I’ve been sheltered, but what a way to open up my eyes. Walking in on my new, allegedly “professional,” man-mountain roommate doing the nasty with some woman. Eye bleach. Please. I’ve got enough to worry about with my new job in a new city, and even worse, my new health diagnosis. So maybe my curves have gotten a little out of control. But If I can’t escape my demons with cookies, I’m sure I can learn to cope. I’ve got a plan. Go to work. Come home. Diet fiercely. Exercise religiously. Don’t pay any attention to that tattooed hottie with a bigger-than-life personality. He’s just someone I found online, and I only need him to rent a room to me until I find my own place. After that, I can say goodbye to Dr. Michael Tate, the veterinarian, and his menagerie of animals. And his secret side. Except when you live with someone as magnetic as him, things go a little awry.