George Hunter Farris, should finish his last book. And in order to finish his book, he would have to fuck me for three hundred and sixty five days. He would have to taste three hundred sixty women in one year, and that 365 women was all me. Why? Because George was dying, and he was my stepfather. And I would have to be free in the end, fleeing away with every ounce of his wealth...

As if life wasn't hard enough being bullied and treated like garbage all the time; my loathsome, insufferable seat mate just had to come with his "secrets" and torture my every waking hour. What's the big deal you say? Nothing except for the fact that he's some insanely beautiful Greek God under those nerdy glasses. And now, he lives next door. I'm Sarah and this is my story.