Me and love go together like oil　water.

Hence why I've never been with a man. What's the big deal anyway?

The kind of men I like never like me, and the men who do like me?

Oh right, there aren't any.

The last one ended up falling in love with my best friend.

I have bigger things to worry about anyway.

Like saving my library from demolition.

Until he shows up.

A tattooed bad boy with a body that belongs on a romance book and eyes that undress me with every glance.

Gulp.

He's trouble.

Ex-con kind of trouble.

Hooking up in the car kind of trouble.

I'm not that girl—at least I didn't used to be.

He's the definition of what I shouldn't want.

So it begs the question.

Why him?