The fireman is hot—able to burn me. But still, I crave the singe.
The professor is cold—brooding with intrigue, making me yearn for more.
The police officer easily unlocks my laugh—something I thought was caged for life.
Two years ago, before my cheating husband died, he promised he'd right his wrongs--and there were so many wrongs. On his deathbed, he swore he’d send a slew of men to worship me and treat me like a goddess.
I don't know how, but my husband kept that one promise. Unbelievably, I get to choose between three men—one’s perhaps too hot, another too cold, while the other might be just right. And faintly, I can hear my husband chuckling and whispering that I don’t have to choose.