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Contents (64)
  1. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  2. PROLOGUE HIM
  3. CHAPTER ONE AUDREY
  4. CHAPTER TWO CAT
  5. CHAPTER THREE AUDREY
  6. CHAPTER FOUR CAT
  7. CHAPTER FIVE AUDREY
  8. CHAPTER SIX CAT
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN HIM
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT AUDREY
  11. CHAPTER NINE AUDREY
  12. CHAPTER TEN HIM
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN CAT
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE AUDREY
  15. CHAPTER THIRTEEN HIM
  16. CHAPTER FOURTEEN AUDREY
  17. CHAPTER FIFTEEN HIM
  18. CHAPTER SIXTEEN CAT
  19. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN AUDREY
  20. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CAT
  21. CHAPTER NINETEEN HIM
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY AUDREY
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CAT
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO AUDREY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE AUDREY
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR HIM
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CAT
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX AUDREY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN HIM
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CAT
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE HIM
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY AUDREY
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CAT
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO AUDREY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE AUDREY
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR AUDREY
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CAT
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX AUDREY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN AUDREY
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT HIM
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CAT
  42. CHAPTER FORTY AUDREY
  43. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE HIM
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO AUDREY
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE AUDREY
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CAT
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE HIM
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX AUDREY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN AUDREY
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT HIM
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE AUDREY
  52. CHAPTER FIFTY CAT
  53. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE AUDREY
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CAT
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE AUDREY
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR HIM
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE CAT
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX AUDREY
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN MAX
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT CAT
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE AUDREY
  62. CHAPTER SIXTY MAX
  63. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  64. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The thing that I would never admit to in those threads was that I missed the pulsating heart of a real woman. I missed burying my face in silky hair, inhaling the scent of perfumed skin. I missed the softness of feminine lips beneath mine. If only that bitch Sabrina hadn’t broken me.

And then one night, I was lying in my extra-long twin bed, listening to my roommate snore and battling insomnia by browsing Overexposed. I was on a thread where users were posting screengrabs of their ideal woman when one of them caught my eye. I rocketed to a seated position, my chest clenched so tightly I could barely breathe. The thumbnail image was small, only an inch or two at most, but I would recognize that mane of shimmering, red-tinged hair anywhere.

Sabrina.

With trembling fingers, I tapped open the picture. Relief and disappointment coalesced as I realized it wasn’t her. It was another flame-haired beauty smiling at the camera, her name discernible in the screenshot from her social media post: Audrey.

Her resemblance to Sabrina had initially taken my breath away, but the more I studied her, the more I saw the differences. Both were small and red-haired, but Audrey was sharper, more femme fatale. Aquamarine eyes flashed beneath thick lashes, heart-shaped face came to a point, pale breasts swelled beneath a plunging neckline. My mouth filled with saliva; heat surged through my body.

Audrey.

I found the rest of her online presence, from her Tumblr to her WordPress blog, and followed her wherever I could. For days, I binged on her. I went through her blog archives, committing every image to memory, parsing every chatty post for its deeper meaning. She was more adventurous than Sabrina ever had been, and funnier, too. I learned what she was listening to, what she was watching, what she was reading; I devoured every morsel she shared of herself.

Lucky for me, that was pretty much everything.

My favorite image was of her standing on a beach, her milky-white skin glowing against her black crochet bikini. She was partially turned away from the camera, her body angled toward the ocean behind her, her eyes looking straight through the screen into mine. One hand restrained her flowing hair, the other was extended to the camera, beckoning, as if to say, Follow me.

CHAPTER ONE AUDREY

What doesn’t kill you makes you more interesting. At least, that’s always been my personal motto, and it was echoing through my mind as I tried to stave off a panic attack on a southbound train to Washington, DC. In this instance, though, it wasn’t helping—largely because I wasn’t sure that the logic held. What if this move actually made me less interesting?

I shuddered and once again considered petting the emotional support Chihuahua currently occupying a quarter of my seat. When I’d extended a hand to scratch behind his ears earlier, his owner—a ferocious woman with a French-tip manicure and wearing a lemon-yellow velour tracksuit—had practically screamed, “He’s working!” The little dog looked to me like he was snoozing, but I was in no hurry to set his owner off again.