It’s another dusty Sunday morning, and you’ve woken up in another stranger’s bed. No biggie. You don’t remember much but you do remember having a great night, and you most certainly remember that some Nordic god of a man with lush, gold hair had been buying you drinks the whole time. You smile to yourself and roll over. You’re alone in bed but his side is still warm, and you can hear footsteps getting louder. You quickly position yourself like one of Jack’s French girls, thinking maybe you’d be lucky enough to get a sober round two, and then he appears. He’d clearly just come out of the shower and his hair was slicked back, revealing a very unfortunately average face. Your heart sinks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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