Phillip by Pandora Snow

“My mom heartlessly abandoned me at age sixteen. Kendra selfishly served me divorce papers without explanation. I’m not good enough for anyone. What will it take to crack open my heart’s defeated impenetrable fortress?”

Phillip:
My heart’s rough, wrecked, untethered.
Two long isolated years at sea’s done nothing to abate the excruciating pain of rejection. I’m a bitter, lonely man.
A serendipitous accident catches me totally off guard, staring like a lovestruck buffoon into Brooke’s endless entrancing blue eyes.
When I hold her sexy, shapely body in my arms for a split second, a raging spark of desire lights my dormant fuse.
Thank God for my best friend.
“I should kick your ass, you know,” I grin to Houston as we blend into traffic.
He slipped her my number.
“She called!?” he shouts, his eyes sparkling with accomplishment.
“Texted. We have a date tomorrow night.”
“Please tell me you said something clever. Girls love a confidant guy.”
“Says the man with no girlfriend,” I laugh, his face bursting into a knowing smile.
“I told her drinks are on me, and she said she liked me.”
“Impressive move. You’re a great guy, Phil. Not all women are heartless like your ex.”
Houston’s words are truth.
But my embedded insecurities and screw-ups continue.
And one horrific fateful night, I take Brooke too far.
Can my shattered heart crawl out from the depths of rejection to admit my failures? Can Brooke forgive my reprehensible actions?
I love her more than life. Only she can save me.

Brooke:
A round of applause breaks out, my flushing red cheeks lifting to meet his beautiful bemused eyes.
I just spectacularly spilled an entire glass of ice-cold soda onto a sexually charged Navy hero.
“I could take my shirt off,” he whispers commandingly, close to my ear.
My squirming thighs retreat to the beverage station, the vibrations of his low voice tickling more than my fancy.
Have mercy. I so want to be that woman who can have a passionate fling without feeling any remorse. But I’m gun shy after my last jackass of a boyfriend unremorsefully cheated on me.
Thank God for my best friend.
“I can’t wear this short of a skirt; it’s too revealing,” I bemoan.
“You’ve got to up your game to land a studly boyfriend. Give him a taste,” Misty smirks.
Our first date was epic.
He chuckled at my frustration, entertained by my struggle to secure the damn noodle in the flimsy chopsticks.
I stabbed my utensils into the soup, gasping in panic as the soup splashed onto his shirt, the wonton into his lap.
“You really want to get me naked,” he breathed against my chaotic lips.
Phil’s masculine bravado is all-consuming.
Unfortunately, his unrelenting agonizing emotions strike.
And I’m left a helpless, frightened bystander.
Is Phil’s egregious sin forgivable? I have a golden opportunity to escape.
If I deal him the final culminating blow and abandon him like the others, he’ll never recover.
Nor will I.