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Description : Stardust
I'm not the fun girl in my group of friends. That would be Shayla, entertaining everyone with her stories about the restaurant she manages, and all the young people who work there and fornicate like forest bunnies after hours.

I'm the girl you ask toe over and give your cat his daily pills while you're on vacation. And, by the way, I don't like the way your cat looks at me. Like even he knows I'm the dull one. One of these days, I'm going to drink some wine and flash my boobs at your cat—really give him something to think about.

If there’s one part of me that’s a little bit fun, it’s my big mouth, which receives and broadcasts messages from some place other than my brain. My mouth cannot be silenced. If you want to get on my bad side, try to shush me. Just try.

Besides my mouth, the rest of me is well behaved. Most Saturday nights, I’m snuggled in bed with my laptop, indulging my shopping fantasies. I rarely dance on tables, or even stand on chairs. I keep my feet on the ground and my eyes wide open at all times.

The Saturday I met the mouth-wateringly delicious Dalton Deangelo, however, I was standing on a chair. I broke my own rules and paid the consequences.

Want a visual?

Picture me as a luscious piece of fruit, with ample, dimpled thighs peeking out from under a peach-colored dress. That's right—picture a pleasantly chubby, blond girl in her early twenties, teetering back and forth on an old wooden stool, inside a bookstore. I was applying packing tape to a vent along the ceiling, hoping to put an end to the maddening cupcake scent wafting in from the bakery in the same...