It turns out I am, on the other hand, a total sucker for the “identity porn” trope, especially when one side knows the truth and the other is blissfully unaware. However, the authors quickly turn the dynamic sexy AF, and they also don’t leave the reader hanging about who is on the other end of Conor’s conversation.
If it’s only in my head, though, it doesn’t count.Īfter all, it’s not like we’re falling for each other in real life.I’m not one for texting/sexting or sending intimate photos by text, so the basic premise of this “meet-cute” didn’t initially speak to me. Except I can’t stop thinking about him night and day.
Which is a problem, because I made a vow long ago to never let emotions interfere with my life, either business or personal. The more I get to know Conor, however, the more I start to fall for him. After all, once our business is concluded, he’ll be out of my life for good. Instead, I decide there’s no harm in flirting. The one that belongs to my anonymous late-night texter.
The same geeky tie that’s held hostage on my phone. The first thing I notice about Conor Newell when he sits down in my high-rise conference room is how delightfully nervous he is. Within days, I’m falling for someone I shouldn’t, and I have to remind myself that none of this is real. I spend my days squaring off against Wells in the boardroom, and my nights succumbing to the sexy stranger’s commanding texts in the bedroom.
Little do I know the man on the other end of the line is none other than Wells Grange: the most controlling, egotistical, emotionless SOB I’ve ever met. I tell myself an unexpected night of hot as hell back-and-forth is the perfect way to blow off a little steam while I’m in New York closing an important business deal. Only, instead of it going to the flirty hotel bartender, it goes to some random stranger who actually responds.
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