Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

"I'll see you." Ik kijk met een kleine glimlach naar hem. "Yeah sure. Small chance we'll see each other again, but okay." Harry lacht zacht en haalt zijn schouders op. "You'll never know." ---- De 24-jarige psychologe en seksuologe, Joyce De Graaf, bezoekt haar oudere broer in New York. De dag van haar aankomst gaat ze s'avonds naar een club waar haar broer moet optreden. Daar leert ze DE Harry Styles kennen, iemand die voor haar een vreemde is. Hoe het verder gaat, lees je hier. Het verhaal zal half Nederlands, half Engels geschreven worden. TRIGGER WARNING: depressieve gedachten, suïcide, zelfverwonding, verkrachting, seksuele taal, schelden, (seksuele) taboos worden aangehaald...

~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~ Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are only made worse when his conservative, opinionated and by the book parents decide to come to town for the month. Harry must figure out a way to convince them that his son has a mother figure and he is in a stable relationship. Struggling single mother of twins, Sunday Jones, finds herself unable to say no to his offer... Playing the role of Harry's wife for a month in return for Harry to buy her a small place for her and her little girls. The only problem is, Sunday's contagious optimism annoys Harry and she can't stand his grumpy facade. Lies, loyalties, liberation and love. Will they make it to the end of the game?