"From New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg comes a new, sexy standalone about taking chances and finding love when it’s least expected. Or wanted. This whole contest was supposed to be easy. I know, I know. Famous last words. It’s a long story, but I messed up at work. Big time. To earn back the trust of my boss, I promised to save one of our magazines. Yep. That Hot Dad contest you’ve seen advertised all over the place was my idea. And if I’m successful, if I’m able to increase our online readership, then I get a shot at my dream job. But the one thing I never expected to happen, happened: Contestant number ten, Grayson Malone. Hello, Mr. Difficult. And did I mention sexy as hell? Unfortunately he knows me. The old me, anyway. And while we might be older now, I remind him of before. Of the woman who broke his heart, who hardened him, and who left him alone to raise the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen. But I don’t want a relationship. And I definitely don’t fall for single dads with baggage. Even ones with chiseled abs and killer smiles. But he got to me. They got to me. He and his son and their messy, crazy life. But I got to him too. I see the stolen glances. I feel the walls he built start to crumble. I recognize that there’s an unexpected beauty to the chaos in his life. And now that the contest is about to end, we’re left to decide whether the last six months were just fun or if what we have is worth risking it all?"View More
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary romance novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate but can’t help to love.A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow and her mind scattered in too many different directions.Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Kristy has sold over one and a half million copies of her books across eighteen different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over thirty times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by the streaming platform, Passionflix, with the first movie (Driven) out now.With her imagination always in overdrive, she is currently scheming, plotting, and swoon
“Are you fricking kidding me?”“What?” he murmurs quietly. Smart man. He’s learned over the past two years and is treading lightly.I look over at Grayson, who’s sitting in the chair across from my desk, with his feet crossed at the ankles and his phone in his hand, and I want to strangle him. Not just strangle him, but him and everyone else in this office. Especially with that blank look on that gorgeous face of his that tells me he has not a care in his world while mine seems to be slowly falling down around me.“This!” I point to my computer screen and then jab a finger to the office beyond mine. My staff is milling about as if there’s nothing wrong when the draft of the next issue of Modern Family on my screen says anything but. “We’re getting close to the deadline for print, and nothing’s right. Not the layout. Not the ...” I scroll through the pages and growl—yes, growl—in frustration when, in an article about winter break activities for your kids has the w
It’s like déjà vu, standing in the back of Hooligan’s.So many faces are the same as last time, but the buzz is a lot bigger this go ’round. Sunnyville is anxious to make one of their own Modern Family’s Hot Dad of the Year.There’s a live band playing. Someone from Modern Family has placed signage in optimal spots for photographs, and there are red and white balloons tied to the ends of the booths to add a splash of color.From where I stand in the back, I’ve managed to catch a glimpse of four of the five contestants. All but the one I crave to see—Grayson.For the first time since I stepped foot back in Sunnyville months ago, I feel completely out of place. Strangely enough, my place has kind of been beside Grayson, and to be so uncertain of how he’s going to react to seeing me again is nerve-racking.“Look at you! It’s only been a week, and I already miss the hell out of you.” Rissa grabs me in the tightest of hugs, which makes me wants to cry.“It does feel like forev
Me: Text me when you get to town. We need to talk.I hit send and then realize what a dick I sound like, but I can’t take it back.Fuck. Can I do anything right?All I have to do is tell her that she’s my choice. That I choose her.It’s only been seven days, and I’m going fucking crazy without her. Seven days of waking up and repeating the steps without any color in my life.I scrub a hand over my face as I stare at the screen and wait for a response. Any response. Something to let me know that she knows that her leaving was a mistake. Something to let me know she’ll be at the party tonight and that this—she and I—is somehow still on her mind. Is something she still wants.Only, she doesn’t respond.She doesn’t text back.I end up sitting with my phone in my hand while Luke plays on the PS4, and I try to figure out how to fix something I broke.How to prove to her that it won’t happen again.“Dad! Someone’s at the door!”“Who is it?” I ask as I jog down the s
“I’m proud of you, Sid. Your work and dedication really had a chance to shine in this contest.”“Thank you.” My words are muted, my mind elsewhere as I meet my dad’s gaze. He can probably see the confession of everything I did wrong.Like fall in love with a contestant.I clear my throat. “Numbers have definitely improved, and not just for the contest pages. The click-through to other articles has had a significant increase as well.”“So the numbers show.” He flips through more pages of statistics and then looks back up at me, a proud smile on his lips. “Zoey came to see me a few months back.”I whip my head up to look at him, utter shock blanketing my face. “You mean my friend Zoey, Zoey?”He gives a measured nod. “Yes.”“Okay.” I draw the word out, mentally scrambling to come up with a reason why she would do that and coming up with nothing.“Why didn’t you tell me you missed the interview because you were helping her?”Completely blindsided by this conversation, I o
My chest burns.I focus on my breathing. On the cadence of my steps. But it doesn’t matter how fast I run or how much distance I cover because her goddamn letter is on repeat in my mind.Just like it was last night. And the night before that. And on and on.Fuck.She’ll be back in a week, my ass.The Kraft house is empty. All her stuff is gone. The vase where she kept the dead flowers she didn’t realize I’d noticed has been emptied. The hose she’d always leave stretched across the drive is rolled up on its hook. The blinds on the house are pulled closed.She’s gone for good.And I’m running. I run. Because I’m being a dick to everyone around me, taking this out on Luke with a short temper when it’s no one’s fault but my own. When I’m the only one who can fix this. But I can’t until I make sure my head’s as straight as it can be.I run until I can’t run anymore. Until the lactic acid makes my muscles seize and my lungs can’t catch air fast enough. It’s only then that I c
Him texting me was inevitable, but when he finally does three days later, it’s crippling.Grayson: You left without saying goodbye.I stare at his text for the longest time, trying to figure out how to take it. Is he angry? Is he surprised? Is he disbelieving?Me: I thought we had already said goodbye.Grayson: You didn’t even tell me you were leaving early ... but you told Luke?Me: I didn’t want him to think I abandoned him. That was very important to me. And you? It was just easier this way.Grayson: Easier for who?Me: You. Me. I don’t really know anymore.Grayson: Neither do I.I stare at my phone—so many words I need to say, his voice the one thing I desperately want to hear—and I close my eyes as I remember everything about him.Me: I’m sorry.Grayson: So am I.Clutching my phone to my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t even bother to fight the tea
My first night back in my penthouse, and it feels nothing like when I left it.It’s cold.It’s empty.I curl my knees up into Grayson’s shirt that I took with me, and I cry myself to sleep.
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