The Checklist

Copyright © 2014. All rights reserved. No part of the materialize may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, translated or reduced to any electronic medium or machine-readable form, in whole or in part, without specific permission.

This book is written purely for fun. Sure, there will be serious moments added to it, but at the end of the day I want you guys to laugh, swoon, and fall in love with the characters.

Hopefully you like it!

Much love,

-Nickymb<3

 "It is only through the rules of The Checklist that you find the perfect man."

                                                                                             - Ender Collins

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Rule #1: You snooze, you lose

Once a boy is claimed, look the other way.

No boy, even a perfect one, is worth losing a nail over.

 Unless it’s Orlando bloom.

ALWAYS lose a nail for Orlando Bloom.

There’s a boy outside my door.

 Usually this is the time I would freak out. I mean, there’s a boy outside my door. And even if I didn’t freak out, I would atleast check to make sure I looked okay and wasn’t flashing him my boobs. Because when it came to good looking boys standing in front of me, I almost always showed boob.

 I called it the boob curse.

 “Hello?” Mr. Goodlooking says before giving me the most breathtaking smile this side of Florida has ever seen. Did I just swoon? I take a step back from the door, my hands still on the handle.

 Either this was a huge prank or he was about to kill me. Because boys like him don’t knock on my door. Actually, no boys knock on my door.

 “Is Ellie here?” Ah, now it makes since. Sighing, I open the door wider and wave him in. I take the opportunity to watch his butt as he takes a small step over the threshold and into the foyer.

 Yeah, he had a nice butt.

 “Ellie!” I shout, grabbing the bag of popcorn I layed on an end table when Mr. Gorgeous decided to knock. “Your dates here!”

 I shove the buttery deliciousness in my mouth before walking past the guy and heading back to the living room. Even if I did want to stay in the foyer and stare at his godly butt, it would be very unsisterly of me.

 I’m just about to restart my show, when my sister bounds down the stairs and shouts my name. “Ender, Mom won’t be home till later. You know the rules.” Rolling my eyes, I turn around and watch as the guy grabs my sisters pocket book and kisses her hand at the same time. Seriously, who was this guy?

 And where can I get one?!

 My sister blushes an unnatural shade of red. Then, as if she can sense that I’m watching, she looks over toward me and glares when she see’s that I am indeed staring.