How do you screw up your life in three steps? Easy.
Step one: Graduate from college with no prospective jobs lined up.
Step 2: Forget to Facebook stalk the guy who broke your heart before accepting a job in a town that has a smaller population than a frat party on a Wednesday night.
I could quit but living with my parents forever didn't seem like a solid life plan.
Jase Hale was the golden boy. Our boss thought he was beyond talented. The receptionist sent him more flirty smiles and baked goods than was considered normal for a woman old enough to be his mom.
I tried to avoid him and his undeniable charm at all costs.
He did everything he could to get under my skin.
Every encounter left me reeling.
Every smirk made my stomach flip.
I assumed he was playing with me, just pushing my buttons like always, but when he lifted me onto my desk and shit me up with his lips on mine, I was more confused than ever.
It didn't matter that he was trying to prove me wrong. Having my heart broken by the same jerk twice in one lifetime wasn't an option.
He only got one shot with me and he sure as hell didn't order a double.
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