Princess and the Player (Strangers in Love, #2)

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

“Clowns should be murdered,” I add. “Wanna know who invented clowns? A psycho, that’s who.”

Wait a minute; I’m thinking about sweets instead of tits. Jesus. I am old.

“He’s also proud of his penis. He’s named it.” “What?” “Cupid. Because every girl who gets the arrow falls in love.”

“We all have darkness. People you see on the street, people you work with, people you love, people you hate. If there’s no darkness, then there’s no room for light. And when that darkness hits you, and it will, all that matters is that you keep going, one step at a time until you’re up and back on your journey.”

“Harlee feels uneasy with you in the shop. The entire situation is uncomfortable for her.” I shake my head, an exhalation of disbelief coming from my lips. “She’s uncomfortable? Oh my God, that’s ridiculous. She humiliated me; she has Edward. What else does she want?”

My stomach clenches at the food before eventually settling down. It hasn’t been right for a few days. I’m fine. Totally.

She better not be pregnant

Girls like me don’t have time to wallow.

We’ve been rejected before, and when it happens, we make plans. We move on. We survive.

Tuck Avery. Professional footballer. Lives in the penthouse of my building.

What are the odds

My own story begins by being left on the steps of a police station in the snow in a small town in Upstate New York. All I had with me was a car seat, a blanket, and a locket engraved on the back with “Francesca.”

Do you know how long a snail can sleep?” I arch a brow. “Three years. Do you know what happens to female ferrets if they don’t mate?” “They get angry?” “They die. Something about their hormones going crazy. Anyway. I like him.”

“No, but will you step out here in the hall so we can talk? Just five minutes?” “I’m, like, super busy. You have no idea. Sorry.” I lean in. “But, Francesca, I want to see you. Your whole person. Without you and Mr. Darden yelling back and forth. Without the toboggan and glasses you had on at Café Lazzo.” My voice lowers. “And

without the mask, Princess Bride.”

“You just pick out a girl you aren’t attracted to and get her interested just to win a dollar? Douche move.

“Do you always run this hot and cold? Besides, there’s another NFL player on my list to stalk. Tell Jasper I’m coming for him. He’s more fun anyway.” A spike of possessiveness rises. “No Jasper for you.”

Fate is a tenacious bitch. And sometimes when she doesn’t get what she wants, she tries again and again.

“Where do you think? Widow Crane has blackmailed me into her ridiculous book club. I’m going. A prisoner of war.” “Don’t be dramatic. It doesn’t suit you,”

A tear falls. And another. And another. Rejection claws at me. Cruel. Harsh. Distrustful. If he’s my fate, then I don’t want him.

But this is his choice. Just like I had a choice. I chose her and me. He chose himself.

You are my soul, he said. The light that guides me home. So why does it matter if it was sooner than we might have anticipated?