My Brother's Roommate

There are a few things you should know about my brother's roommate.

Wolfie Cox is . . . complicated. And incredibly sexy. Unfortunately, he has an impressive stick lodged so far up his ass, he's about as emotionally available as a chinchilla. Actually, that might be an insult to the chinchilla community.

So, naturally, I want to ride him like a bicycle.

He thinks I hate him. Mostly because I've led him to believe this. It's easier than admitting the truth.

And while Wolfie is about as soft and cuddly as a fork, I'm the opposite. A good girl. Reliable. Conscientious. Oh, and completely panicked about an upcoming work conference.

Wolfie's usually allergic to altruism, so when my brother convinces him to help me out by escorting me to said conference where everyone else will have a plus-one . . . I say thanks, but no thanks.

Surprisingly, Wolfie is unflinching about this. And that's the story about how I got stuck in a hotel room with my brother's hot (grouchy) roommate.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

In all seriousness, this isn't a game to me, and hormones aside, I need to impress my boss this week so the promotion I've worked hard for doesn't get handed to his worthless nephew. But with Wolfie and me sharing a hotel bed, things get confusing quickly.