Savannah Scott

I live for happily ever afters. And I'm finally meeting my favorite romance author in person! Only, all this time, I thought author, Amelie De Pierre, was a woman. It turns out, Pierre Toussaint is the man behind the books that make me weak in the knees. He could be the consummate book boyfriend with his dreamy hazel eyes, strong jawline, and those black-rimmed glasses. Not to mention that accent. Oh, that French accent. When Pierre speaks, I feel like I’m curled in his arms on a riverbank being fed chocolate-dipped strawberries. Not Pierre’s arms, of course. We barely just met. And I’m just me. And he’s Pierre, internationally renowned romance author. Seeing Pierre in person has me stammering and blushing—two things I don’t usually do. Imagine my surprise when I receive a call a few weeks after meeting Pierre—from his agent—proposing marriage. Not that I’d marry his agent. They want me to marry Pierre.

Can you keep a secret? ... I'm in love with my best friend. There are three things you should know about me. I hate running. No, really. I only run when someone's chasing me, and thankfully that's never happened. My ideal Friday night includes pizza, The Princess Bride, and dancing with abandon. And, I'm madly in love with my best friend. That right there, that's my secret. Trevor, and I grew up next door to one another. Yes. He's the boy next door. Even now, we rent opposite sides of a duplex, and we work across the aisle from one another at the Corn Corners Tribune. Basically, there isn't a part of my life Trevor hasn't touched. I take that back. Me. He hasn't touched me. He's made it clear we're in the friend zone and whatever feelings he had for me were a passing thing for him, while mine keep growing like a Chia pet on a humid summer day in the midwest. Unruly, and apparently pointless. So, now I'm resigned to get Trevor out of my system once and for all. If only Trevor would see me as more than a friend ... But, unless he shows me otherwise, I'm going to have to do what it takes to move on.