Never trust a man who gets paid to take off his clothes for a living and then uses it as a pick-up line to get girls in bed with him.
That should’ve been enough for me to call in sick that day.
I’ve worked with male cover models like him before and they’re all the same—smooth-talking, sexy as sin, egotistical know-it-alls who think they’re God’s gift to women—all traits I know to steer clear of.
Assisting authors comes with many perks—reading on the job, using my organizing skills on a daily basis, drinking coffee by the gallons—but Maverick Kingston barges into my life and demands more than I can handle.
When we’re forced to road trip across the country together, he pushes every boundary I have and rearranges my thoughts on playing it safe. And when he “accidentally” drops his towel, he makes it very clear what he’s offering and proves he’s packing more than abs of steel under his clothes.
Working with him was brutal, but falling for him was unexpected.
And playing by the rules will be impossible.