You Had Me at Hola (Primas of Power, #1)

by Alexis Daria

If you’re not wearing lipstick and earrings, you might as well be naked, Esperanza used to say. It wasn’t until Jasmine was older that the true meaning sank in. Those things were armor against a world that had wanted to treat her grandmother as someone smaller and duller than the brilliant and beautiful woman she was. Looking after her appearance forced people to take her seriously.

This was her MO, after all. A spectacularly messy breakup—although this McIntyre thing was even messier than normal—followed by a stars-in-her-eyes crush on yet another emotionally unavailable man. Rebound, relationship, breakup—rinse and repeat.

Jasmine tried not to take it personally, but taking things personally was one of her greatest skills.

the thing that always toppled her headlong from crush into infatuation wasn’t just good looks or competence—it was attention.

Years ago, Michelle had created the four-point Jasmine Scale to track Jasmine’s progression—or descent, as Michelle called it—into love. The first point on the scale was Attraction. It was the curiosity phase, where Jasmine started to wonder about the guy and noticed all the cute and charming things about him, usually while ignoring glaring flaws and red flags. Next came the Crush. In the Crush phase, Jasmine amped up the flirting, getting physically closer and making it obvious that she was interested. The third phase, Infatuation, was where she started to lose her sense of self and all good judgment. She made herself too available and did too many favors for the guy in question. After that, there was only one more step left: Falling in Love, where she threw herself headfirst into the emotional abyss.

The man was an enigma, albeit a sexy one. If she were smart, she’d keep her distance. Too bad Jasmine had never been smart when it came to men.

Jasmine had developed a crush on nearly every cute guy she’d spoken to since the age of twelve, and she was terrible at hiding those feelings from her cousins.

For once, she was going to cockblock her stupidly romantic heart.

She wanted to keep dancing. Or undress him with her teeth. Either one would be fine.

Her traitorous little heart converted pants feelings into emotions far too readily. It was rather efficient that way.

All she ever wanted was to be the single-minded focus of someone’s attention. And his was 100 percent entirely focused on her.

Everything felt different—no, better—with her. He was better, just for being in her presence.

This couldn’t last—good things never did—but for right now, he would live in the moment with her while he could.

I do respect your privacy, I also think someone who is allowing you to enter their body deserves a modicum of respect and trust as well.

From now on, she would never again allow anyone to make her feel like her worth came from the man she was attached to.

For the sake of her heart, she needed to draw a clear line in the sand. And this time, she would not cross it.