Ladies,
I know how things look from the outside. I’m rich. I’m a successful surgeon. I’m handsome. I should have women lining up from here to New Jersey clawing for space in my bed, but there’s one huge catch.
I’m f*cking awkward.
Every time I get a date, I spoil it. Asked if she’s pregnant? Check. Forgot her name? Check. Bought a meat lover’s pizza for my vegan girlfriend? Check, check, check.
This is why my best friend, romance fanatic Allie Jenkins, has declared that she’s swooping in to save the day. She’s prepared a list of required reading straight from The Ripped Bodice, and I’m supposed to take notes, learn from the best, and put that shit into action. After all, practice makes perfect, right?
Wrong.
