Todos os capítulos de The Purrfect Love Story: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

The blinking cursor on my laptop might as well have been laughing at me. Every time I tried to put words on the page, it just sat there, smug and relentless. I leaned back in my chair, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, and groaned.“Porra…” I muttered, dragging the word out like it could take my frustration with it. I typed a line, read it, and immediately deleted it. Typed again, deleted again. Nothing sounded right. My brooding cat shifter hero was about as sexy as an old shoe. My heroine felt like cardboard. And the whole plot? Flat.This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d come to America to write love stories, to become C.A. Noite, the name that sounded mysterious and romantic, the one I thought would one day be printed on book covers

By the time I made it back to my apartment, my legs felt like jelly and my cheeks burned hotter than the sun. I slammed the door shut, leaned back against it, and groaned so loudly the neighbors probably thought I was being murdered.“Carolina, você é uma idiota,” I muttered, covering my face with both hands.An absolute idiot.First, I chased a strange cat through half of Newark. Then I climbed a locked gate like I was auditioning for an action movie. And then, I landed in the arms of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in my life.I dropped onto my couch, hugging a pillow tight. My brain kept replaying the moment, his sarcastic mutter about the weather raining women, the way his arms were strong and steady when they caught me. Even now, I cou

The second I got back to my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch like I’d just finished a marathon. My heart was still doing this ridiculous fluttery thing in my chest, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Ace’s face when I handed him Goose. Stern, sarcastic, a little bit confused, like he didn’t know whether to scold me or laugh.“Calma, Carolina,” I muttered into the throw pillow, dragging it over my face. “You only humiliated yourself a little bit.”Except it wasn’t just a little. I’d climbed a fence. Fallen into his arms. Showed up with brigadeiro like some overeager girlfriend. And the worst part? Goose had betrayed me, acting like he’d known me forever, purring at my feet, making it look like I actually belonged there.I groaned, rolling onto my side and grabbing my notebook. It had half a dozen

I told myself I was just going for a walk. Stretch my legs, clear my head, maybe catch some inspiration floating around Newark’s streets. That was the line I repeated as I pulled on my coat and tucked my notebook under my arm. Not “you’re hoping to bump into a certain sarcastic firefighter.” Nope. Just a writer being studious.The December air bit at my cheeks, sharp enough to make me bury my scarf up to my nose. Newark buzzed in that gritty, restless way I was still learning to love. Horns honked, the corner bodega’s door chimed every few seconds, and kids shouted across the street as they kicked a half-deflated soccer ball. I ducked inside the corner store myself, picked up a few basics, coffee, flour, and condensed milk. Because brigadeiro might “accidentally” happen again. My shopping bag was heavier than I’d expected when I stepped back out, notebook wedged under my arm, scarf slipping loose.

My apartment looked like a fashion tornado had torn through it. Clothes were flung across the bed, the chair, and even the radiator cover. I stood in the middle of the chaos, hands in my curls, muttering, “Idiota gato-homens,” like it was some prayer.This was his fault. Ace Rosario and his crooked smile, his sarcastic brooding, his kitten that purred like a little matchmaker. If Goose had stayed inside that day, I wouldn’t be here trying to decide if a black dress made me look confident or like I was going to a funeral.I tugged at the hem of said dress, frowning at my reflection in the mirror. “Too serious,” I muttered. “I’ll spill spaghetti sauce all over it, guaranteed. Also, my mom will see the pictures in my mind and yell at me for not wearing color.”The dress went flying onto the chair.