I see them staring. Blame the scar that’s carved from my chest to face, or my reputation as a beast. Keeping to myself keeps others from knowing how I got this way. Then she moves in next door. My sexy neighbor revels in me watching her most intimate moments. The kicker? She wants to watch me. What’s the harm in staging sinful shows across our shared fence line? No words. No contact. Just how I want it. But weeks of teasing hit a boiling point when we collide at the store and find our chemistry’s even more sizzling in person.…
I read. And quilt. A lot.