I have plans for more books in this series. I’m pretty sure Oakley needs a book. I don’t have any plans to write anything but MM for a while, but I know Ari, Emma and Holly were begging for a LeAnn book. I doubt it, but you never know!

If you’re missing these boys and want more, be sure to join my Patreon because I miss them like crazy already and they need a bonus scene or two!

Thank you so much to everyone who makes these books possible! Thank you to my husband and my babies for putting up with my crazy writing schedule. I hope I make you proud because that’s all I really want.

Love to every single one of you!

-Nicole

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HOSTILE

Want more High-School MM?

Check out Hostile!

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ONE

RHETT

I stare at the blue frosting on the cupcake in front of me and try like hell to feel joy. Any kind of joy. Hell, at this point, I’ll settle for feeling anything other than the ugly bitterness dragging me down daily.

I’m eighteen.

Eighteen years old and should feel like the luckiest guy in the world but the truth is . . . I’m broken. Undeniably broken.

“You aren’t going to eat your cupcake? I think that’s bad luck.”

I smile when I hear Bree’s voice behind me and then see her red Converse sneakers before she plops down on the front steps next to me. I turn to look at her, setting the cupcake down. “What other luck is there?”

Her eyes narrow, and then she rolls them. “Please. We’re the definition of good luck, Rhett.” She slightly turns to gesture to the big-ass house belonging to the steps we’re sitting on. “Foster kids adopted by rich people who aren’t assholes but instead, are amazing.”

I swallow hard and try to force a smile, but it just doesn’t come. Because I know how lucky I am. Or how lucky I should feel. My parents were young when they had me. Really young. And then, they lost me to the system several times before my mom took off and my dad permanently relinquished his parental rights to me, leaving me to drown in foster care. I bounced around from house to house, each one worse than the others.

I met Bree and Fletcher in foster care. They became my family. We rarely ended up in the same place but usually stayed in the same area and the same schools until Bree literally ran away from her foster father and into Rhys.

Rhys. A badass tattoo artist. Loyal and fierce. He didn’t rest until she was safe. He and his wife, Blair, adopted Bree and then eventually, Fletch and me as well. They’re amazing. They have money and a love most people only dream about.