Love is best served on the rocks.
My roommates look really good naked. At least one of them does. I’m sure the other one does too, but I haven’t seen him without his pants on. Living with two guys wasn't something I’d ever considered, but the opportunity fell in my lap, and I’d have been crazy to turn it down.
College went by in a great big blur leaving me with less of a direction than I had going in. Add in a family that wanted nothing to do with me, and my post-college plans were less than clear. What’s a girl to do when she has nowhere else to turn? She moves to the Outer Banks and learns to bartend. After all, it was my horrible bartending skills that led me to my roommate’s bed and into his heart.
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Excerpt
I heard the water in the sink running, and I assumed someone was brushing their teeth. I knocked while pushing open the door. “I just need my—”
The rest of my words were lost as Macon turned toward me. There he was holding a toothbrush and wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Oh my god. I am so sorry.” I backed out without finding my brush.
“Can I help you?” His voice was amused. How was he amused?
“Why are you naked?”
“Because I just got out of the shower.”
I kept looking down. “But you were brushing your teeth.”
“I like to dry off before I get dressed. You should try it sometime.”
“That’s what a towel is for.” I heard the ping of the towel bar. I glanced up, half hoping he’d be covered and half hoping he wouldn’t be. He had a towel tied around his waist.
“I guess we’re even then.”
“Even?” I could barely think straight. I was still picturing Macon naked.
“Yeah, I walked in on you in a towel, now you’ve seen me baring it all. We’re good to go.”
“I wasn’t naked.”
He grinned. “So what you’re saying is now I’m the one with the extra points. Nice.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I am? You’re the one who opened the door without waiting for an answer, and what did you need anyway?”
“My brush,” I answered sheepishly. He was right, I did pretty much barge right in.
“Here you go,” he held out the brush.
I took it, and my hand brushed against his in the process. Even tiny touches from him got me. “Thanks, and sorry.”
“Not a problem, roomie.”
“Okay.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Oh, no. Nothing.” I backed out the rest of the way and closed the door. Could I get more embarrassing?
About the Author
Alyssa Rose Ivy is a New Adult and Young Adult author who loves to weave stories with romance and a southern setting. Although raised in the New York area, she fell in love with the South after moving to New Orleans for college. After years as a perpetual student, she turned back to her creative side and decided to write. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and two young children, and she can usually be found with a cup of coffee in her hand.
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