Roommates with Complicated Benefits

What do tequila, furry handcuffs, shame, and a 6' 2" hot man with a black eye all have in common?

They were all in my bed last night.

Well, shame was there this morning.

My asshole roommate up and moved out and rented her "room" to some guy her brother's coworker's cousin "knows really well." The aforementioned roommate thinks we'll get on like a house on fire. I tell her I don't think anything related to fire is a good thing. Especially as this guy and I will now quite literally be sharing the same room, with a divider for "privacy."

Sounds bad, right? Well, it gets worse.

Ethan Huntington is the most annoying, frustrating know-it-all, pompous jerk I've ever met. I did try to be open and ask him about himself when he moved in. But his responses consisted of, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Yeah, okay. Cue major eye rolls as I walked away from him. It only made me angrier when I heard him laughing as I slammed the door as if he'd gotten the last laugh.

He thinks he's God's gift to women just because he's hot. I can't lie: I've seen him without his shirt, and let's just say he got more than my heart racing. But that doesn't mean I'll succumb to him. No way.

Well, that was the plan. Until that night. When we decided to play a few rounds of cards and we drank way too much. Sure, we had one night. But that's all it's going to be. I'm not going to let my one-night mistake stop me from going out and meeting Mr. Right—even if Ethan is still living with me and I can't get him out of my mind.

And then the first letter arrived and changed everything. Maybe that one-night mistake was just the beginning of something really special.