Getting pregnant after a booze cruise hookup was not what any parent wanted to hear, so I picked up my entire life and moved to Paris to start over. Six years later, I was ready to go home.
I was a single mom and the only thing I knew about my son’s dad was his name—Luca. I didn’t need to know anything else.
The universe had other ideas because on our second day back home, the man came crashing back into my life.
Attending a welcome back party for my boss’s daughter wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Sunday. But walking in and seeing my hookup from a cruise six years ago knocks me on my ass.
It was a weekend of fun and now I’m seeing a pair of eyes, identical to mine, staring right at me. The boy standing next to her is my son.
Now we’re living next door to each other and attempting to co-parent something that would be easy to do if the pull that brought us together wasn’t still there making things more complicated.
For six years she haunted my dreams, now she’s haunting my every waking moment.
I let her get away once, now I want to make her mine.
This time, permanently.
Only one thing left to do. I have to tempt the hookup.
When her nose isn’t buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she’s in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It’s a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn’t listen to her…
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