I’ve always enjoyed a Melanie Harlow book. I can always count on a sweet, make me feel good kinda feeling when I read her stories. Definitely no different with this story.
This story is on Nate & Emme. Neighbors that live across the hall from each other. Emme has watched Nate for years bring different girls home, never wanting a relationship, just the physical aspects of it, simply just sex. So she’s always looked the other way, secretly wishing he’d ever want more in a relationship.
Nate & Emme hang out often, always as friends, never anything sexual related happening between them. However somewhere along the way, things changed and they both seem to want more, start to feel this connection, needing more of each other. And then suddenly Nate is left with a surprise at his door. All of a sudden Emme is needed not just for friendship, but for so much more. Nate was adamant on nothing more than a friendship though. He was denying himself anything more with Emme. Fighting attraction was the goal, keep things strictly in nothing more than a good time with a good person.
We’ve all read these stories. Of course we know what’s going to happen. It’s the way the story is told that makes a story and Mrs. Harlow does an amazingly wonderful job bringing this story to life. I throughly enjoyed it. It has the perfect amount of angst, just enough smut, and a bit of drama to make it an exceptional read for me.
If you are looking for a book that gives you plenty of smiles, a couple tears, a page or two or 200 pages of angst, and a boatload of sweetness, this one is for you. A definite recommend from me ❤
“You know, even an alpha male can have feelings occasionally.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, giving me the evil eye. “Yes. He doesn’t have to be hard as granite all the way through, all the time.”
Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. I leaned back against the opposite counter and sort of held my glass in front of my crotch. “Why are you even concerned with alpha males? You’re never attracted to them.”
“What? Yes, I am!”
“No, you’re not.” I knew her type well. “You’re always saying how you don’t want to be rescued, you want someone willing to show affection and talk about feelings, you don’t like arrogant or competitive guys or guys who always have to win, you like guys who get along with everyone—”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But that’s not an alpha male.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “But look at Bond. Who is he so worried about protecting? Why is he so driven to kill the bad guys? There must be people he cares about more than himself to put himself in harm’s way so often.”
“Maybe he just likes the thrill of the chase.”
“Maybe he’s more selfless than you think.”
“In this case, I think we’re going to have to disagree.”
She sighed heavily, and I knew I had disappointed her by ending the argument in a draw instead of winning or losing it. Any other night, I might have kept it going, but there was something odd going on with me, something that had me wanting to close the distance between us, set her up on the counter, slip my hands beneath that fuzzy white sweater she had on, see what her legs felt like wrapped around my hips. But I knew better.
Get her out of here before you do something stupid.
“Hey, you got fortune cookies? I didn’t see those.” She reached for the little cellophane bag.
“I forgot about them.”
“Can I have one?”
“You can have them both.”
She took one out and cracked it open. “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.”
She ignored me and went on to the next one. “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Her lips pursed. “Hm. I don’t want a dangerous ship or a broken heart.”
I laughed at the anguish in her tone and expression.
“It’s not funny,” she said, shoving pieces of cookie in her mouth. “It means I’m doomed to be unhappy. And then I’m going to die in a shipwreck.”
“It means you take things way too seriously.” I tipped back the last of the bourbon in my glass, and set it in the sink. “Well, I’ve got an early morning at the gym tomorrow.”
She popped the rest of one cookie in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “I’m going. What time is it anyway?”
I checked the digital clock on the microwave. “It’s 11:11.”
Her face lit up. “Ooh! Make a wish!”
“It’s 11:11, you have to make a wish.” She closed her eyes for a couple seconds, her lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. Then she opened them. “Did you do it?”
I laughed. “No.”
“Nate! Hurry up! Make a wish.” She glanced at the clock and flapped her hands agitatedly.
“I don’t have a wish to make.”
“So make one for me, then. And do it fast, before it’s 11:12.”
This time it was my turn to roll my eyes, but secretly I wished that the next guy she fell in love with would love her back the way she deserved, and she’d be happy. But I didn’t close my eyes, and I didn’t move my lips, so she had no idea whether I’d made a wish or not.
“Did you do it?” She looked concerned.
Her mouth fell open for a second. “What was it? What did you wish for me?”
I started to laugh as I left the kitchen. “Nice try, Calamity. Even I know you don’t tell a wish if you want it to come true.” The credits were still rolling on the television, and I picked up the remote to turn everything off.
“Oh, now you believe in wishes?” She sat down on the couch and tugged on her fluffy boots.
No, I wanted to tell her. I don’t, because I learned a long time ago that wishes and prayers and hopes don’t mean anything. No one is listening. But I didn’t tell her that, not only because she was looking up at me with my favorite expression of hers, the one daring me to fight back, but because at that very moment, I heard a noise in the hall.
A strange and oddly terrifying noise.
I looked over my shoulder toward the door, thinking I must have imagined the sound.
Then I heard it again—the unmistakable, ball-shrinking, cringe-inducing sound of a baby’s wail.
About Melanie Harlow
Melanie Harlow writes sexy, emotional romance about strong, stubborn characters who can’t help falling in love. She’s addicted to bacon, gin martinis, and summer reading on the screened-in porch. If she’s not buried in a book or binging on Netflix, you might find her running, putting a bun in someone’s hair, or driving to and from the dance studio. She lives outside Detroit with her husband and two daughters.
Melanie is the USA Today bestselling author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, MAN CANDY, AFTER WE FALL, IF YOU WERE MINE, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s.