I'm cursed.
At least when it comes to finding Mr. Right.
I'm tired of men that only want one-night stands or blind dates that are nothing but awkward and uncomfortable. I'm tired of avoiding inappropriate text messages and the constant disappointment of always meeting Mr. Wrong.
After all these years of dates that lead nowhere, I can admit that it's me. I'm the problem. I'm shy and picky and cursed. Definitely cursed.
So I've decided two things.
The first? I'm giving up dating and relationships and men in general. Maybe, possibly, forever.
The second? I'm going to have to try harder to avoid Ezra Baptiste.
If I couldn't hack it in the kiddy pool of dating, I certainly can't swim in his deep end. He's too successful. Too intense. He's all man when I'm used to nothing but boys pretending to be grownups. He's everything I'm afraid to want and so far out of my league we might as well be different species entirely.
So he'll need to find a different artist to paint his mural. And a different graphic designer to help him with his website. He'll need to find someone else to glare at and flirt with and kiss.
It can't be me.
We're too different.
Contains mature themes.
