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A stand-alone romantic comedy available now!
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A wrong number is supposed to be just that—a wrong number.
Do not continue to text. Do not flirt.
A wrong number shouldn’t be the first person on your mind in the morning, or the last at night…and you’re definitely not supposed to talk them into buying a baby goat.
Because that would be weird.
When Zach Hastings and I get into a wrong-number mix-up, we don’t follow the rules. We keep texting and flirting, because he’s wicked funny and perfectly nerdy and a wonderful distraction.
I’m not looking for love, and Zach definitely had the wrong number.
Maybe he’s the right guy.
His hand snakes out, brushing back the lock of hair that’s fallen over my eye, lingering on my cheek for the briefest of moments. “This is the most forward thing I have ever said, but I would kiss you so hard if you’d let me.”
My chest feels like a thousand pounds. Breathing is a strenuous effort and my head is spinning like a pinwheel caught in the wind.
Because I want him to kiss me. Hard. Soft. Any way I can get it. I want to feel his lips on mine, want to know if they’re as soft as they look. I’m dying to feel his stubble brush against me as his mouth moves over mine. I want to know if he kisses the way he talks. Sweet with just a hint of dirty.
“We’re in public,” I manage to scratch out.
“I don’t think this is a good place for that.”
“And why is that, Delia?”
“Because I’m certain once I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”