Play by the Rules . . .



What do you get when you mix a dive bar, a worn velvet couch, and a discussion about goats? The night I met Owen, obviously. I sought out my private nook in Wicked Chucks, looking for a good view of the band. Instead, I got a front-row seat to the most delicious man I've ever seen. He’s everything I never knew existed, but being with him means breaking my own rules.



I didn't invent the rules, but I play by them. Now, I have a man who wants to toss out my rule book and create a new one. Together.



Some Rules are Meant to be Broken . . .



What do you get when you combine a tiny woman with a mile-wide stubborn streak, unwavering dating rules, and a hard-hitting passion? My current situation. I went to Wicked Chucks for the music, but I met Tally instead.



The first thing I realized? She’s a total klutz. The second? I was staring into the face of the woman I'd been eyeing all night, and she was even more beautiful up close. But when she started discussing blood oaths and goats, her coolness factor skyrocketed. No joke, this woman is made for me. Only one minor problem—she has rules. Two of them are cake. The last one? That might be a problem.



Contains mature themes.