Samuel Hawkes loves that I hate his pretty face.
Exchanging scowls with your exact opposite is self-care.
But when we make our office feud an everywhere feud.
The word "obsessed" gets harder to dismiss.
Suddenly, the look in his eyes is less "You're a dork, Ellie," and more "I want to break you. "
And I'm afraid to find out what that means. (Hopefully closer to ice-pop-split-in-half than egg-thrown-against-a-wall. He'll make fun of me if I ask.)
Before anyone says "he's trash, ignore him," let me first agree with you and second, explain.
Watching Samuel Hawkes is not my hobby.
It's secretly my job.
I work undercover in this office, as a sleuth.
The guy's suspected of stealing millions of dollars or something-I don't know, it doesn't matter, because the only crime he's committed under my watch is tormenting me. He thinks I'm monitoring him for fun, so he pays me just as much attention. Maybe even more.
He remembers everything about me.
He wins every scuffle.
Most annoyingly perfect jawline. Broadest shoulders. Fanciest car. Best smile-wink combo without accidentally catching our boss, Mr. Paterson, in the crossfire. (I don't want to talk about it.)
If I can withstand this himbo hurricane of a man and investigate my way into his closet full of skeletons, there's a much-needed cash reward coming my way.
But as he watches me watch him, and we both get closer to the enemy than we'd ever intended (he smells like a pine tree), the mysterious Mr. Hawkes is catching up to my lead in the one competition I was definitely winning.
Is his pretend-stalking. kinda real?
And worst of all.
Am I into it?
Sorry, mom. Sorry, therapist.
I'll un-think that thought, live a well-adjusted life, and collect my paycheck before my carefully guarded walls and all these secrets come crumbling down on me.
.But am I into it?
An over the top, enemies-to-lovers rom com with big laughs, big swoons, and big thrills, spanning fake dates to car chases, as the tough and lovable Ellie braves everything bad for us that's so, so good in books.