Only fools jump...and Zoey Porter is no fool. At least not anymore. One tiny mistake when she was eighteen led to two very real consequences—the kind that keep you up all night and demand breakfast in the morning.
The only thing Zoey has time for these days is dry shampoo, energy bars, and that magical photo filter that erases the circles under her eyes.
So when Elliott MacCallister knocks on the door like a #nofilternecessary god, Zoey knows she’s in serious trouble.
With Elliott as the newly-minted resident of her boss’s pool house, keeping her distance is easier said than done.
Time to stock up on wine, cookies, and a portable fan. This summer just got complicated.
Only Fools Jump is like cotton candy for your soul—light and sweet. It’s a full length, standalone romantic comedy. It’ll be impossible to stop smiling after you devour this perfect summer read.
Recommended for 18+ due to language and some sexual content.
On sale for $0.99 for a limited time!
“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, soda?” I hear myself asking. Chalk it up to my automatic response system for houseguests. He might murder me with an ice pick in a second, but at least I offered him a beverage.
“I’ll have a Gatorade. I’m sure Sam keeps some stashed in there. Thanks.” Another point in his favor: Samantha totally does keep Gatorade in the fridge—it’s the only non-organic, high-sugar thing in there.
I walk over to the fridge and make the mistake of looking at Elliott on my way over. He’s smiling at me, and I notice he has a single dimple on his right cheek. It’s like the universe knew giving him two dimples would be unfair to the rest of us.
Ahh. I need to focus. “Okay, so how are you going to prove you’re really who you say you are? Do you happen to have a DNA test in your back pocket?”
And what fine pockets they are. His jeans are the perfect cross between hipster slim and boringly straight. He’s obviously well-acquainted with the inside of a gym because I can see the outline of his quads through the dark denim all the way from here.
Elliott’s eyes lock onto mine when I finally make it back up to his face. His eyebrows tick upward. Yup, I’m pretty sure he realizes I was just checking out his denim—and everything underneath it. I open the fridge door and stick my head in while my cheeks turn hot pink.
K.P. Haigh joined the adult world as a project manager. After spending years in spreadsheets, she put her love of blank notebooks to good use and started spinning words into love stories.
In a perfect world, K.P. would have a never-ending supply of coffee, carbs, and sticky notes. She corners the market on ridiculous facial expressions and is happiest when she's cooking for people or making them laugh.
She’s always up for crispy French fries and can’t wait for self-driving cars to take over the world so she can read on her way to everywhere.
K.P. lives in Seattle with the man who loves her crazy and their son, who inherited half of it.
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