Callie: The past is the past, right? Or so they say, or whatever. I've let mine define me for the past five years. No relationships, no cuddling, and definitely no sleepovers. All I need is a good romp in the hay, my sex-positive radio show, and my best friend Jade. Until him. Dex. He broke the cycle of meaningless one-night stands and showed me how true love should be. He even helped me tackle my demons once and for all. Dex: She broke my heart. After four years, she cheated on me the moment she could. And the idiot I am, I call into a radio station pleading with the hosts for help on getting over the heartbreak. And the moment a goddess walked into the kitchen of my frat house offering me a beer, I took their advice. I hooked up with her, thinking that would be it. But little did I know Callie would be the center of my world if only I could convince her she was worthy. ■■ Spin-off of Sex and Writing. You don't have to read it first. ■■■ Mature. Updates weekly.

He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.