A romantic comedy that will have you laughing your socks off. You'll relate to Violet on many levels—most especially her being a klutz.
I'm SO excited for everyone to read the new version of CONFESSIONS OF A KLUTZ. I first released this at the start of 2018, but these two wouldn't leave my head even after release. So I added some new scenes and had the whole thing re-edited.
I love the new version more than the old one, and that's saying something!
Confession One: I was a klutz.
I thought I’d grow out of it, but evidently I didn’t.
It’s not fun to look like a fumbling toddler when you’re twenty-six.
Confession Two: I had a standing appointment at the local ER.
It wasn’t by choice that I knew all the doctors names—it was necessity.
But that was about to change.
Confession Three: I hated the sun yet I lived in LA where it always shone.
I supposed that was one plus to being sent to New York for the next eight weeks.
That was until I got there.
Arm veins, dimples, and THE sexiest voice known to man were my weakness,
and he had every single one of them.
Confession Four: He was my new boss.
I could control myself though, right?
The city of dreams… a klutz’s worst nightmare.
Eight weeks. A klutz. And a drool worthy boss.
What did you get when you crossed a klutz with a GQ model lookalike?
I was about to find out.
A smattering of hair covered his jaw, his cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. And those lashes—it was so unfair that men were blessed with the long, thick ones. Hot damn, he even had a chin dimple. What was it about dimples that immediately made a woman turn to mush?
I was preoccupied with taking him in, noting his charcoal suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair, his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows and showing arm veins. Oh, God, I was a sucker for arm veins. They were so…manly.
My gaze finally rolled up over his dark-blue tie before stopping on his lips that were…spread into a grim line. Shit. How long had I been staring?
I didn’t mind that Mr. Taylor hadn’t spoken to me, though, because sometimes people were awesome to look at but douchebags to talk to. Maybe he was one of those kinds of guys?
I needed at least forty-eight hours to confirm or deny that.
For sure, I thought there’d be gossip about him, allowing me to determine it sooner rather than later, but there’d been nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Maybe he dazzled everyone with his strong jaw and dimpled chin, and they were put under some kind of spell, causing them not to utter a bad word about him?
“You’re playing with fire.”
“I’m a pyromaniac.”
His breath quickened, and he yanked me closer as his fingertips dug into my ass. “Careful, Vi. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted me.”
Leaning my head back, I looked up at him as I lifted onto my tiptoes. “Who said I didn’t?”
Great. Now horny Vi had made an appearance.
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