Anne Archer Hot Novels & Stories

“Do you think you can fight him on it?” “She’s 17, Arch! Seventeen. She could have a mate out there!” I wail aloud. “And so could you, Drake,” Archer adds. I brush off the idea with a hand wave. “I think that’s passed. I’m nearly 30.” “You’re 25, dude,” Archer corrects.

Still ‘arriving in 4 minutes. Of course. It had been ‘4 minutes’ for the past 8 minutes. Liars. That was when I noticed him. Mr. Annoyingly Hot. Christian freaking Gallo. Looking hotter than ever in an expensive navy-blue suit. He strutted out of his house toward his driveway like a man in a luxury car commercial. Standing in front of a sleek black Grand Wagoneer Series III, was another good-looking man in a black suit—probably his assistant. Then my eyes caught two little girls, practically bouncing with energy. They had their backpacks on, clearly ready for school.