The Perfect Putt (More Than a Game, #2)

by Annah Conwell

“That’s not how he is with you,” Naomi says. Satisfaction drapes over me like a warm blanket fresh out of the drier.

the reckless romantic in me whispers then why is he here? Why is he carrying you to bed and buying you coffee? I can’t answer those questions. I can only jump to conclusions. And I’ve been jumping the way kids jump waves at the beach. If being delusional was a sport, I’d be smiling on the podium with my gold medal.