It started with a broken condom. Sounds like a nightmare, but I would never take it back. Now, I have my insanely high IQ son. Oh, but I’ve learned a lot since getting pregnant then dumped at nineteen. For the past seven years, I’ve become an architect, building walls around my heart. Behind a computer screen, I hide, writing my risqué blog, discussing the perils of love and sex, while controlling every aspect of my boudoir. I like having the upper hand, especially when I tie men up. Nothing and no one, not even my idiotic crush on my neighbor, will ever break me from maintaining this distance.
One accident. Just a split second in time when my body bent beyond physical limits, and now I’m a has-been with a cane. No more million-dollar contracts, no more speeding down the rink with a puck on my stick, no more groupies fawning over me. Nothing. I am nothing. But I’m not inhumane, which is why I rush over to my neighbor’s to help when I see her fall and break her ankle. I’ve never wanted anything in my life. Everything’s been handed to me on a silver platter. But I want Zoe. And I think she wants me. Problem is she won’t let me in. I have to find a way to tear down the walls surrounding her heart.
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