Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)

by Amy Daws

“Book boyfriend,” she repeats. “The leading male in a romance novel that readers claim ownership of because he doesn’t likely exist in the real world. Basically, the ideal man.”

Sex appeal wasn’t created in a gym with weights and treadmills. No, it was born in powerful, grungy garages where men, real fucking men worked with their hands.

We were worse than Ross and Rachel.

Dicks can be such…dicks.

“But I do think women get blamed for loving drama when men are equally as guilty. We get away with calling it macho.”

Mercedes waggles her brows at me and turns to watch the last few inches of sun dip down behind a faraway hill. But I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. Her hair is kind of like a sunset. She feels me watching. “You’re missing something really beautiful,” she sings teasingly. My voice is serious when I reply. “No, I’m not.”

I’m only noticing him because he’s fucking stupid hot. Like take McDreamy and McSteamy and rub their penises together. That’s how hot he is.”

Green complements redheads,