Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women.
Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin’-uh.
I do care that he’s doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain—making him my competition in this year’s kissing contest.
Why do I care, you ask? Because I’ve had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was sixteen years old, but I also know it’s never going to happen.
He’s the Creek Falls bachelor to die for, and I’m the Creek Falls racoon lady who puts peanut butter sandwiches out for them every night.
I’m not going to let him break my four-year-long reign—no matter how many times he breaks the rules and slides the curtain across to do the one thing he’s not allowed to:

Kiss me.

What do a wrong number text, a burning building, and a quirky florist have in common?
A hunky firefighter with an extra-large…hosepipe.


In hindsight, I never should have opened that text message. The last thing I needed first thing on a Monday was a picture of some stranger’s, um, eggplant, in my inbox.
I also should have replaced the batteries in my fire alarm, because my Friday night did not need to end with my apartment building going up in flames.
But it’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
I’m only lying in a hospital bed with more split ends than I’ve ever had, almost all my Earthly possessions have turned to ash, and apparently, they don’t serve wine to patients in this place.
But like I said, it’s fine.
Until he walks in.
The guy who saved my life. My hero. Noah Jacobs.
And the universe is amusing itself at my expense, because the dirty photo I woke up to on Monday?
It’s his.

WANTED: ROOMMATE. Must be tidy, polite, and absolutely not my brother’s hot as sin best friend.


I have no idea why I said yes.
Maybe I’d had one too many wines. Maybe I’d done it accidentally. Maybe I’d been sleep-texting.
One thing I know for sure is this: I absolutely do not want Ethan Hawkins in my apartment, up in my business, taking over my space.
Yet he’s here. Moving his stuff into my spare bedroom. Sending a wave of panty-melting, musky man-scent my way every time he walks past me.
Here’s the thing.
We don’t get along—at all. We never have, and I don’t think we’re going to start now that we’re under one roof.
There’s also that little issue where I’m kinda, sorta, totally in love with him…

Uh-oh.

About the Author . . .

Confession One: Musical theatre and chess were my true loves. I was a mixture of nerd and drama queen. I liked to think of myself as raspberry ripple ice cream. The perfect combination of sauce to creamy goodness.

Confession Two: I was an adaptable kind of girl. Until it came to my dreams. Four years of hard work and I finally got into the college I’d fantasized about since I was a little girl. But sometimes things didn’t work out how you wanted them to.
One incident—and a Viking helmet—was all it took to have my aspirations snatched away at the end of my first year. And now I was here. In a state I hated. A second college I didn’t want to go to. But no other choices available.

Confession Three: Alcohol was the enemy. All I wanted was to blow off some steam before I met my new fate. To let loose, and have a little fun. I was never meant to wake up in a hot guys bed and not remember how I got there.

Confession Four: He was my new roommate. Running out of his house the morning after the night before was the last time I was meant to see him. I could forget it ever happened and start my sophomore year unscathed. Until I found out he was my new roommate...along with another thirty guys. I was the new Frat Girl in town, and life was about to get a whole lot of messy.

Giveaway . . .

About the Author . . .

Also in the series . . .

Confession One: Musical theatre and chess were my true loves. I was a mixture of nerd and drama queen. I liked to think of myself as raspberry ripple ice cream. The perfect combination of sauce to creamy goodness.

Confession Two: I was an adaptable kind of girl. Until it came to my dreams. Four years of hard work and I finally got into the college I’d fantasized about since I was a little girl. But sometimes things didn’t work out how you wanted them to.
One incident—and a Viking helmet—was all it took to have my aspirations snatched away at the end of my first year. And now I was here. In a state I hated. A second college I didn’t want to go to. But no other choices available.

Confession Three: Alcohol was the enemy. All I wanted was to blow off some steam before I met my new fate. To let loose, and have a little fun. I was never meant to wake up in a hot guys bed and not remember how I got there.

Confession Four: He was my new roommate. Running out of his house the morning after the night before was the last time I was meant to see him. I could forget it ever happened and start my sophomore year unscathed. Until I found out he was my new roommate...along with another thirty guys. I was the new Frat Girl in town, and life was about to get a whole lot of messy.

Excerpt . . .

Giveaway . . .

About the Author . . .

Also in the series . . .

From New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr comes a dashing new, sexy standalone royal romance.
 
A simple notification turns my world upside down...
 
The tabloids are reporting,
I’ve taken the crown and run. (Not entirely true)
 
As you might have guessed,
I’m not an ordinary girl and I don’t lead an ordinary life,
But that doesn’t mean I always follow the rules.
 
This time, though, I feel compelled to obey. 
Which means I have to find a king, 
To sit alongside my throne,
Or lose it all.
 
With only the clothes on my back,
I head to the land of majestic playboys,
Where a royal rebel strides right into my life.
With his sultry eyes and sinful lips,
He turns my world right-side up.
 
The press is calling him washed up. (I think he’s anything but)
 
Gorgeous, sexy, irresistible,
And utterly charming,
He’s exactly what I’m looking for.
 
Everything is almost too perfect,
Too easy.
 
Until I discover,
This hot-blooded royal has a reason for being here.
And it’s more than just me.
 
That thing I said about easy,
Turns out…
Nothing ever is.
 
My royal rebel has a name,
It’s Prince Adrien Laurent.
My name is Princess Victoria Blanchette.
And this is our story.

About the Author . . .