The Fine Line Between Love and Hate

She’s not a quiet librarian.

My landlord is infuriating. He’s uptight and rigid, right down to those dress shirts that do nothing to hide the muscle underneath.

Sure, I never read the tenant’s agreement. I have now. In fact, I’ve memorized it and I’m going to use it to my advantage while staying within the bounds of my contract. Is it my fault that those little decorative touches drive Charlie nuts? And who can resist purchasing a few vulgar gnomes to enhance the landscape?

He’s uptight and rigid.

Note to self: Do not allow my mother to choose a tenant for my house ever again.

She’s the opposite of the quiet librarian I’m expecting. My tenant is outspoken, vibrant, and seems to get off on pushing all my buttons.

It drives me nuts, but there’s something there. Something that sparks a fire in me and when we’re not butting heads those flames ignite.

Whatever is happening couldn’t possibly work. We’re too different. I’m too set in my ways.

Evie pushes me out of my comfort zone and she doesn’t seem willing to give up, even though we hate each other more often than not.

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