It should have just been a fling. A weekend filled with panty-melting kisses that stayed in a hotel in Boston where they belonged. But the second I boarded the plane back home, I felt a piece of me stay with him.
Cal Donovan and I shared the same ambitious personality, two workaholics who loved what we did and made no apologies for it. We also shared the same thoughts and feelings on love; it was fine, as long as it happened to other people.
But try telling that to my stupid heart. An organ I was certain was dead after my last disastrous breakup. Apparently, it wasn't dead at all. It was alive and well, beating and wanting none other than Cal. But what if he didn't want me back?
Can two workaholics who live on opposite coasts truly find love?