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"This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself." Nanny laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, Isa. You’re making it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world. Just imagine it—a forbidden workplace romance, secret glances, and the tension! Oh, how thrilling! The babysitter and the boss. You’ve already got the perfect setup." I glare at her. "Nanny, stop. He’s my boss, and he has a child. A cute child, by the way, who is clearly going through something. I’m not about to entertain any fantasies about him."

data-p-id=82eca71f7ac217849f3ba1383a595493,style=text-align:left;,"Whatever for?" data-p-id=d7e46828d3303f4c88e9ca7ef6cf5b82,style=text-align:left;,"For changing my life. For loving me. For being the kind of wife and mother any man could only dream about. For filling all the holes in my heart and making it feel so full that I fear it might burst of happiness."

It was a very expensive ride. "Of course it is, this is a memory that I'll engrave in my head forever hehe." "Oh really? There were better moments than this though." I can't believe this guy is such a clichè. I guess he wanted to do some romantic stuff he saw on tv. "Better moments than this? I can't possibly think of anything better than riding the ferris wheel on the sunset with you, isn't that the most romantic?" Ugh, just like what I've thought! What a clichè.

She was fully expecting him to give it one glance, and put it down with a caustic remark about trash, at which she would mutter something equally caustic about literary snobs. Instead he scanned it for perhaps twenty seconds. It was ridiculous to feel embarrassed, but she did. Not because he was reading about the imaginative contortions of Dominic and Natalya, but because he was probably imagining her reading them and getting all hot and erogenous in the process. In fact, she had not. As scenes of rampant nookie went, it had been disappointingly unerotic - more like a DIY plumbing manual than anything else. ‘Jesus,* he muttered at last. ‘This is anatomically impossible.*

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

But I didn't get a chance to call it out when she continued . “I stumbled upon this book the other day. By mistake, obviously. I thought it was a theological study on ‘Fellowship,’ but it was actually this incredibly sappy romance story about two childhood best friends who fall in love after they made a promise to marry each other if they were still single by thirty.” She let out what sounded like a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “They were very scandalous scenes in the book, Leon,” Rose murmured in a low voice. “Their…sexual escapades were so vividly described I couldn't stop blushing, but I couldn't stop reading either.” She laughed again.

I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews. Most of my stories were about older women with guys my age and Miss Ross had been the inspiration for many of them. Most of my female leads had the same long dark hair, big brown eyes and perfect full lips as my favorite English teacher. Yes Miss Ross had been the nasty little cougar in my mind and in print many times over the last few months. Shit, I'd even joined her writing discussion group because it met every other Sunday at her house.

Adrian grabs his soda, taking a long, desperate sip to wash away the taste of phantom blood and shame. Almost immediately, the phone buzzes against the wood. Adrian sets the glass down and flips the device over. A notification:@ryxder sent you a friend request. Adrian’s thumb hovers over the screen. He clicks the name, opening the profile. It’s definitely Ryder—the same jawline, the same smirk. The profile picture is a shirtless shot from what looks like a locker room, glistening skin and tight abs on display.

My best friend liked it instantly. [Congrats, Director Thornton. Welcome to freedom!] I was promoted to the position of finance director in my company. I bought my own home, and I had a cat. After everything I had been through, I finally understood that loving myself was where lifelong romance would truly begin.