Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
I stopped getting relaxers in high school when I realized how much damage they were doing to my hair, but I never stopped straightening it. I love the way natural hair is being accepted and I think curly hair is beautiful, but I hate it on me and I always will.
I appreciate the compliment from Liv, though.
“Thanks, but I’m going to straighten it. You know I don’t even know how to begin to style my curly hair.”
“Fine.” She sticks out her bottom lip, the same way she does every time I don’t abide by her exact styling requests. “One day I’m going to convince you to go curly and you’re going to regret not listening to me sooner.”
She’s been saying that since college. Still hasn’t happened, but I do admire her tenacity.
“If that happens, feel free to throw it in my face.”
“Like I need permission,” she scoffs. “Okay, I have a photo shoot to get to. I need you to promise me you will not wear your UGGs.”
“I promise.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll even send you a picture before I leave.”
“Yes, I want one.” She opens my bedroom door and walks through my condo. “Now, I know most people say don’t go too far on the first date, but I’m going to say the opposite. You need to let loose and live a little. If the opportunity arises, go for it. You only live once and it’s time for you to have some fun with yours.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s terrible advice.” I unlock the front door and hold it open for her. “But I will keep it under consideration.”
“That’s all I ask,” she says before spinning around. “Well, that and a bold lip. I left you three choices from MAC in your bathroom. I will find you on your date and apply it myself if I see any hint of clear lip gloss in the picture you send me.”
“Leather boots and bold lip, promise.” I push her out of my door; she’s totally going to be late. “Now go, I think you’re forgetting how bad traffic is . . . even on a Saturday.”
“Fucking transplants,” she groans as she stomps away.
I close the door on her, laughing at what an old lady she sounds like before checking the clock. T-minus two hours before my first real date with Quinton.
—
A KNOCK COMES on my door at four o’clock exactly. I would be impressed if I wasn’t a nervous wreck. I even used the essential oils Greer gave me, but now I smell like a lavender plant and I hope I don’t give Quinton a headache.