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Welcome to Creekwood…
Head down, eyes peeled for any opportunity to get off the dead-end course my mother carelessly paved for me years ago.
My plan takes a sharp turn landing me directly across the hall from Creekwood’s resident bad boys. The three streetbike riding misfits are as stubborn as they are sexy. And they. Are. Sexy. Especially the one with the mocha swirl eyes watching my every move.
But even the six-foot hallway separating us can’t keep the overbearing trio from constantly getting in my way.
When my past threatens to catch up with me, I quickly learn not every detour promises an easier route, no matter how tempting my new neighbors might make it look.
Head up, eyes locked on anything threatening to throw me off the carefully constructed path I have mapped out.
I live my life the same way I ride my bike, never once regretting the roads I’ve chosen.
Lately though, after years of the same scenery, everything’s starting to blur together. It’s only when our elusive neighbor girl comes out of nowhere that I realize what’s been missing.
And now that I have, I don’t think I can let her pass by so quickly. At least not without proving the lengths I’ll go for her first.
The first book in the highly addictive Creekwood Series, Detour can be read as a complete standalone.
Want your very own signed copy of Detour? Head to my Etsy shop *HERE* to purchase. Signed book plates are also available for previously purchased unsigned copies.
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This is Creekwood…
My home. A place to shine just bright enough. Where my makeshift family and I not only strengthened our bond but readjusted it to fit another.
I’ve been coasting in this lane for years, biding my time, and making myself…easily accessible. I don’t move for others—ever. I don’t have to. They go around me, hopefully without chancing too good a look on their way past.
After all, people can’t see what you keep hidden.
Until she showed up.
My new apartment. Somewhere for me to lay my head between chasing what really matters. Who really matters.
I’ve brought enough baggage to fill every inch of this place but I’m not the only one. Someone else’s closet has skeletons too. Skeletons that only come out at night, when nobody’s watching. Nobody but me.
And my new roommate, the one with the arctic blue eyes that see more than he lets on, thinks him suddenly being in my path is all fun and games, but I’m not the one afraid of changing lanes and when I do, he’ll be the one working to keep up.
If he even can.