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220 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 17, 2016















My biggest fear isn’t that the world thinks I’m pregnant, or that Stunning magazine thinks my favorite pink lip gloss washes me out, or that anonymous comments on entertainment sites say that because I took my best friend to the Grammys instead of a guy, I must be a lesbian or completely unlovable.
My biggest fear is that all of those things have gotten into my head so thoroughly that they’ve destroyed the one thing that’s always mattered: the music.
“A little more time, Vaughn,” I say quietly. “I hate having to say this out loud, but I’m . . . I’m reeling, man. I feel like I’ve been in an aimless free-fall for years, and this place . . . it’s helping. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it’s helping.”
He searches my face carefully. “You sure it’s the place?” he asks slowly. “Or is it the girl?”
I don’t respond, but I know from Vaughn’s sigh that he already suspects the answer. It’s a little bit of both.
“You know I’m the better catch, right? Caretaker here might have wood, but as an electrician, I know a little something about heat.”
She laughs . “That’s terrible. You can’t tell me that actually works on any girls.”
“Bet you twenty bucks our waitress comes home with me,” Finn says.
“Only if you repeat that lame line about the heat. Twenty bucks absolutely says she’s not letting you in your pants if you say that.”

"I deserve nothing less than a slap right now, and I'm well aware of it." - Noah Maxwell, ladies and gentlemen!
"You know that feeling you get sometimes? Well, okay, rarely. That feeling when you meet a stranger's eyes and something inexplicable and intense sizzles between you?
That.
That's what happened between me and Noah Maxwell, at least on my end.
And then...
And then he had to go and open his mouth."
"Her gaze narrows slightly, and I expect her to get pissy that I've just outed our sexual status in front of Finn, but instead she leads forward, running a nail down the front of my shirt. "I think we're a little confused about who seduced whom, princess."
“Come on,” I breathe against her throat, trailing soft kisses there. “You can do it.”
I suck on her neck, hard, and she cries out.
“Yours,” she gasps. “I like your fingers better.”
“That’s a good girl,” I say, my fingers resuming their exploration of her hot center.
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➥ Jenny Dawson (h) is why I am so sad this book was disappointing. What an excellent, entertaining, and substantial female main character. I feel like most fmcs I read about are either the quirky, childish, "sunshine", short, busty girls or an attempt at writing a nuanced fmc that just ends in reading about a girl with no substance, mean for no reason (not in a hot girl way) and just annoying. Jenny was not that. She's a singer/songwriter, she's funny, has real emotions but actually stands up for herself. And she's hot as fuck. If only she were given a love interest that deserved her or matched her energy (me), rather than her ending up with the man she was standing up for herself against, due to his misogyny. Nah. The whole second star I gave this book is for my girl Jenny <3. I mean, who else do you know that attacks a man and ties him to the bedpost with pink zip ties and teases him to no end? Me fucking next, please.
I trail a finger over his erection. "I don't know that sorry's enough, Noah."
➥ Preston "Noah" Maxwell (H) ruined this book for me. He's not all that different from other typical asshole love interests but I'm tired of us as women reading books about falling in love with misogynistic men and glamorising it. He believed all the rumours about Jenny (her fucking a married man) and threw words like "homewrecker" in her face when she's literally staying at his rural estate to better her mental health and get away from the media. He was so so desperate to "humble" her, always calling her a spoilt rich girl as if he isn't a spoilt little rich fucker. The author also decided to add this whole OW drama plotline that is so annoying. Who cares to read about a man who's ex wife cheated on him and was such a hooorrible person that he doesn't trust women any more 💔? Not me. It was clearly just an excuse placed there so that he could hate women, talk shit about gold diggers blah blah. It added absolutely nothing to the story, and if anything, that man deserved to get cheated on and have his pockets drained, idc. Literally the opposite of a gentleman.
“I try to tell myself that she’s just a hot piece of ass out for a good time, but the possessive feeling in my gut hasn’t eased up.”
My chest fills with hurt and I stare down at him. “You slut-shamed me, Noah. You made me want you, and then you degraded me for wanting you.”
“Still I press her, wanting to punish her for making me desire her the way I do.”
“Your cocktail’s not half as good as your blow job,” I say, taking another sip of the drink.”
“You know, we’ve done this a couple times now. You’re a jerk—and I mean real, grade-A asshole stuff—and then you apologize. And I say okay. But then you do it again, and I think…”
He leans again, his forehead resting on mine once more as his eyes go even darker. “You’re also sexy as hell and give great head.”
Get it the fuck together,” I mutter at my reflection. It’s got to stop. Too often in the past couple of days, I’ve been dangerously close to wishing it could be like this all the time. That I could be with a girl who likes my best friend, doesn’t flinch at dirty dive bars, drinks Jack and Coke, and wears cowboy boots on long, sexy-as-hell legs.”
“Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.
“I want both. The guy and the career. I want it all.”
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“A little more time, Vaughn,” I say quietly. “I hate having to say this out loud, but I’m…I’m reeling, man. I feel like I’ve been in an aimless free-fall for years, and this place…it’s helping. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it’s helping.”
He searches my face carefully. “You sure it’s the place?” he asks slowly. “Or is it the girl?”
“Oh, what’s that? I didn’t mention that my revenge plan is totally creepy and a lot immature? It is. Don’t care.”
“There once was a guy named Noah, he was as appealing as a boa. Whatever happened, whoa-oh-oh, whatever happened, who-oh-oh, to rot his soul?” I shake my head. There’s more strumming on the guitar, and her Noah-hate song continues. “His face was average, his eyes were cold. His body flubby, whoa-oh-oh. His kiss was filthy, his flavor bad. He tried to woo me, and it was sad, whoa-oh-oh.”
“You know how I said Jenny’s voice sounded like her heart? I’m wrong. Her voice sounds like my heart. And I want it back. I want her back.”
I exit out the front door just in time to see my big brown Lab leap forward, his clumsy paws finding the shoulders of a blond girl who lets out a shriek, holding a cat above her head like that scene from The Lion King.
“Ranger, no! Down!”
I run forward, my hand finding the collar of my dog and yanking him backward as I search the ground to find the source of the small-dog barks still piercing the air. Then I register that the sound is coming from above, and I realize…
The cotton ball isn’t a cat. That orange peace of fluff is a dog, and Ranger is apparently in love.![]()

"My biggest fear is that I've lost the music."
"America's good girl just went bad."
"I've never been sucker-punched with equal waves of lust and disdain before."

"I think we're a little confused about who seduced whom, princess."

Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly, #1)




“What the heck is wrong with your dog?” the girl says as she slowly lowers the puffball from over her head, cradling the hideous little monster against her chest as it continues its high-pitched bloody-murder yips.
“At least my dog is actually a dog,” I say, staring in horror at the pointy face of a canine that could fit in one of my hands. “I’ve seen dust bunnies bigger than that thing.”
“Dolly’s a Pomeranian,” she says, setting a hand on top of the monster’s head. “She’s supposed to be this tiny.”
“Well, Ranger’s a Lab. He’s supposed to be this normal.”


“A little more time, Vaughn,” I say quietly. “I hate having to say this out loud, but I’m…I’m reeling, man. I feel like I’ve been in an aimless free-fall for years, and this place…it’s helping. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it’s helping.”
He searches my face carefully. “You sure it’s the place?” he asks slowly. “Or is it the girl?”
I look from her to the dog, who I belatedly realize is now wearing a pink bow.
No. Just hell no.
What have I gotten myself into?
More important, how do I get myself out?
I hurriedly grab my stuff, making sure there’s no sign of my presence before I can dash into Noah’s tiny closet, leaving it open just a crack so I can breathe and see what I’m doing.
Oh, what’s that? I didn’t mention that my revenge plan is totally creepy and a lot immature? It is.
Don’t care.
I stand still, my body humming in anticipation, as Noah comes in the door.
“Hey, boy,” I hear him say quietly to Ranger. “Where’d you get that bone, huh? You steal it from the stupid cotton ball?”
I roll my eyes. Sure, my dog’s the stupid one. I saw Ranger barking at his own shadow the other day.
But anyway, back to Jenny.
Am I avoiding her? Yes.
Out of embarrassment? No.
I’m avoiding her because I can’t even think her name without remembering what it felt like to have her hands and mouth all over me. I can’t blink and not see her in that sexy black bra. I can’t breathe and not smell her scent, all sweet and innocent.
I dump a handful of chocolate chips into the blender. Chocolate fixes everything.
Tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder, I put the lid on and flick the blender back on, sort of relishing the hacking noise the chocolate chips make as they whir.
“What the heck is that noise?” Amber asks.
“Just throwing some carrots into the blender,” I lie.
“Oh, good call! I love how carrots add that delicious bit of sweetness,” she says.
I roll my eyes. Sweetness my ass. They’re carrots.
I exit out the front door just in time to see my big brown Lab leap forward, his clumsy paws finding the shoulders of a blond girl who lets out a shriek, holding a cat above her head like that scene from The Lion King.
“Ranger, no! Down!”
I run forward, my hand finding the collar of my dog and yanking him backward as I search the ground to find the source of the small-dog barks still piercing the air.
Then I register that the sound is coming from above, and I realize…
The cotton ball isn’t a cat.
That orange peace of fluff is a dog, and Ranger is apparently in love.
I climb into the truck, moving the seat slightly, since Finn’s a couple inches shorter than me. I glance over at Jenny, hoping she doesn’t ask why I’m adjusting the seat in what she thinks is my truck, but she’s too busy fiddling with something orange and hideous on her head.
I pause in the process of jamming the key into the ignition, staring at her in horror. “What the hell is that?”
“A wig,” she says, pulling down the visor to look in the mirror. Only there isn’t one, it having broken long ago, so she turns to me. “So how does it look?”
You know how I said Jenny’s voice sounded like her heart?
I’m wrong.
Her voice sounds like my heart.
And I want it back. I want her back.
“What the heck is wrong with your dog?” the girl says as she slowly lowers the puffball from over her head, cradling the hideous little monster against her chest as it continues its high-pitched bloody-murder yips.
“At least my dog is actually a dog,” I say, staring in horror at the pointy face of a canine that could fit in one of my hands. “I’ve seen dust bunnies bigger than that thing.”
“Dolly’s a Pomeranian,” she says, setting a hand on top of the monster’s head. “She’s supposed to be this tiny.”
His eyes rake over me. “Playing dumb won’t change the fact that you’ll be thinking about me all night, princess. Your fingers will be a poor stand-in for my tongue, I can promise you that.”
“I’m trying to figure out which word better applies here, delusional or disgusting. I’m thinking it’s a tie.”
Noah bends down slightly, enough so that I can feel his warm breath on my mouth. “Enjoy your night, princess.”
"I survive the first week of being Jenny Dawson's bitch.
Oh, I'm sorry, I mean caretaker of her run-down place."

"If the girl can't handle the shit people are saying, maybe she shouldn't have fucked a married dude."
It's on the tip of my tongue to argue that there are two parties involved. That Shawn whatever-his-name-is was there too, and nobody seems to be giving him more than an indulgent eye roll beofre smearing shame all over Jenny."

"...there's something about it that calms me. It's one of those places where you hear your thoughts louder and more clearly than anywhere else."
"Playing dumb won't change the fact that you'll be thinking about me all night, princess. Your fingers will be a poor stand-in for my tongue, I can promise you that."
"You know, we've done this a couple times now You're a jerk - and I mean real, grade A asshole stuff - and then you apologize. And I say OK. But then you do it again, and I think..."
"The hope in his eyes gets to me.
Please, his eyes say. Stay.
And damn it, now I feel like crying again, only for a different reason. No matter how much this complicated guy thinks he doesn't need anyone or anything, there's a coarse vulnerability there that nearly undoes me.
“It’s starting to feel a lot less like running from something and a lot more like . . . home.”



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Finn pulls out his phone.
“I need to write that down. See if Ma will stick it on a quilt for me.”
"I survive the first week of being Jenny Dawson's bitch. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean caretaker of her run-down palace."