Mixed Signals (Lovelight, #3)

by B.K. Borison

Not my date. Of course not. Bryce is about as memorable as a crumpled-up gum wrapper shoved in the bottom of my purse.

I concluded my evening with the best date I’ve had in months—a shiny bottle of sauvignon blanc and a plate of peanut butter fudge cookies I made myself.

I went through a . . . phase . . . not too long ago. A phase where I ordered a custom cake from Layla’s bakery every two weeks. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. Not really. I just liked seeing her, spending time with her. Ten pounds later, I decided I needed to let that little buttercream addiction go.

“You look nice,” he says, voice hoarse. “I look like a drowned rat.” “A nice one though.”