When ratings for her popular DIY show start to circle the drain after the sudden death of her sister, Charlotte “Charlie” Conti has only one mission—to plan a comeback. But her sister had other plans. As part of the will, Charlie must work with *him* to create a memorial scholarship in her sister’s memory. The same *him* Charlie fell in love with three years ago while working at a summer camp.
The same *him* she dumped to protect his heart.
Sexy British player, Nate Walsh, has sixty days to find a new job or he’ll be deported back to England where he’s no longer welcome. He doesn’t have time to work on a memorial scholarship with *her*. The same *her* who shattered his heart without explanation or warning.
The same *her* he’s never gotten over.
Unable to agree on a benefactor for the scholarship, Nate and Charlie challenge each other to a winner-takes-all competition. They both know the only way to win is to turn up the heat and tease one another with the one thing they both want: each other. But as sparks fly, their true feelings resurface. Nate and Charlie must decide if their love is worth the effort or if they'll allow their disastrous past mistakes to destroy their chance at forever.
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KD lives in West Central, Minnesota with her husband and fur-kids. She likes to write fun twists on the usual tropes that we all love. Her characters are smart, funny, and always swoony. And yes. They always get their happily ever after.
Before being accepted for publication, MEET ME UNDER THE STARS (formerly titled IF YOU’RE EVER IN TOWN) was the 2016 YARWA winner for the New Adult category.
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I’m such a twatwaffle.
For years, I wondered what in the hell I’d say to Charlie when I ran into her again. The response depended on the day. Even though I’d moved on, there were days where I pictured crossing her path, giving her a giant middle finger, complete with a “fuck you.” Other days were more subdued with a silent nod in her direction and maybe a wave.
Now here we are, face-to-face where we’re going to have to talk to each other—unlike her sister’s funeral where she dodged me at every turn—and the first words out of our mouths aren’t “hi” or “What was Gwen thinking?” Instead, I tried to make a sick joke about screwing her in the conference room of a lawyer’s office.
It’s not like I’m expecting things to go back to the way they were three years ago when our time as camp counselors came to an end. Back then, we’d spent every day together for nearly three months, and saying goodbye had sucked ass. But we’d been determined to prove to everyone that long-distance relationships could work. I’d even gone to see her at her college in mid-September, and when I left everything was fine.
Then four weeks later, she never showed up for my fraternity formal.
I let that shit fester for months. I trash-talked her. Was piss drunk on a regular basis. I didn’t go to my lectures. And when I learned I was failing my classes and jeopardizing my visa, I couldn’t be bothered with her anymore.
My life depended on flying straight and getting my shit sorted.
This afternoon when I walked into my fraternity house, word spread like a ramped stomach virus that I was home. I didn’t even have time to unload my Jeep, much less have a hen session in the hallway. When they saw me dressed in a pair of khaki Carhartt pants and a polo shirt—complete with a fucked up collar that wouldn’t lie flat—everyone assumed I had a meeting with my research advisor.
If they knew what I was up to, they never would’ve let me leave the house.
They hate Charlie for what she did.
I’m not about to tell them that since Gwen’s funeral, my feelings for Charlie have been front and center again hitting me in waves when I least expect it. Like now. Thank Christ I pulled it together at the last second. When I caught a glimpse of her through the door of the conference room, my breath caught, and my brain scrambled. It’s like that every time. A chain reaction impossible to stop.
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