Bad Roommate: Never Room With A Player

Never room with a playboy. Words to live by. Unfortunately, I seemed to have missed that memo. When Carrington Anderson shows up on my doorstep applying to become my roommate, I’m immediately shook. He doesn’t remember who I am, but I sure as hell remember him.

He’d broken my heart and been part of the reason my high school years had been complete and utter torture for me. I still dealt with the emotional and mental damage high school had inflicted upon my psyche.

Now ten years later, a hundred and fifty pounds lighter and adorned with more tattoos than a sailor, I wasn’t even close to being the same girl I’d been back then. The girl I used to be died a long time ago.

I thought I could resist his charms this time, but I was sorely mistaken. As we got to know each other all over again, I feared he’d destroy my heart a second time around.