








“An irresistible blend of emotion, angst, drama, heat, heart and humor was super enjoyable and made this book a true delight to read.”– Gladys (Goodreads Review)
“There was certainly some emotional moments in Love to Hate You and a few times where I was on the edge of my seat whilst reading. This book is a little gem and one I thoroughly enjoyed.”– Erin Lewis (Goodreads Review)
“Their story is intense and poignant at times but it also has a lighter side to it as well. The authors words draw you into a storyline that holds hard and fast to your heart. Love to Hate You is an exceptional love story.”– Kylee (Goodreads Review)
“The sexy times between them are nothing to sneeze at either: hot, steamy, sensual and drool-worthy. This book made me laugh one moment and cry the next.”– Silke (Goodreads Review)

The sound of the curtain in her changing room being pulled open echoed into my changing room, so I made sure my dick wasn’t visible, then pulled back my own curtain.
Jamie was zipping up Alexandra’s dress—the royal blue bandage strapless one—but she whipped around to face me when Jamie was finished.
Her eyes widened, pupils dilated, nostrils flared. It was a primal reaction that I would have to be an idiot to miss.
I had a primal reaction of my own—in my pants.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
She glanced away, but the smile that lifted one side of her mouth was dead sexy.
“You’re getting that one,” I said.
She smoothed her hands down the sides, turned on one foot, and glanced at herself in the mirror. “Yeah, I like it, too.”
“You can’t wear those two together, though,” Jamie said. “The blues are too close in color, but not close enough. If you know what I mean?”
Alexandra and I nodded.
“He should just wear a dress shirt and maybe dark gray pants when you wear that dress.”
“I have dark gray pants in the room,” I said, hooking a thumb toward my changing room and a stack of pants on the bench.
I stepped out and away from my room to get a better look at myself in the mirror outside the changing rooms. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a perfect fit,” Jamie said. “Doesn’t even look like you’ll need tailoring.”
Alexandra nodded. “Looks good.” I caught her checking out my ass and grinned, but when she saw me see her, her eyes whipped up to the ceiling as if a flock of geese had just flown overhead.
“You guys got any brown wingtips?” I asked, focusing my gaze on Jamie.
He nodded. “Sure do. Size?”
I glanced back at Alexandra and smiled as I said, “Thirteen.”
I did not miss the flare of her eyes or the way they drifted down to the front of my pants.
“Eyes up here, lady,” I said, catching her gaze back in the mirror.
Startled, she ditched the surprised look and went with a glare before returning to her changing room and dramatically pulling the curtain closed again.
“What is the dynamic of your relationship?” Jamie asked, glancing back and forth between me and the closed changing room curtain.
“She’s my fiancée,” I said chipperly. “But she’d rather not be.”



My phone chimes in my hand with a text from Monica.
Check the group chat I sent you. A sweet weekend away.
Opening the chat, I scroll to the post from a BF with a Captain America avatar. Inside I release an ugh before I read the post.
Weekend wedding in Bermuda. Flight leaves at 10 pm. Back Monday at noon. Looking for my +1. Those with drama need not apply. Pay own flight. Hotel is all inclusive.
Instead of texting Monica back, I hit call and press the phone to my ear. She’ll be in the car with her boyfriend, but I’m not replying to this post. The guy sounds like an idiot.
“Do it,” Monica says when she answers.
“Two initials and a Captain America avatar? He’s going to be the worst. A sleazy, misogynistic jerk.”
Monica cackles over the phone. “You’re judging that hard over initials and an avatar?”
“‘Those with drama need not apply,’” I say. “He might as well scrawl ‘I’ve got issues’ at the end of his post.”
“Oh, I see what it’s like,” Monica says. “You’re all talk.”
“What?” I sit up straighter on the couch.
“In class you were all ‘I seek adventure’ and ‘my extravert-loving heart,’ but when an opportunity drops in your lap, you’re not taking it?” She tsks. “Something better than a trip to Bermuda come up?”
“I have to pay for my flight.”
“That’s a bonus—you can leave early if he really is a sleazy jerk.” She hums over the phone. “Never mind. Someone else replied. I gotta go. Devon doesn’t like it when I talk on the phone when he’s driving. He wants his tunes cranked.”
“Have a good weekend,” I say again before hanging up.
I click into the chat and stare at the exchange of messages. Shared hotel room, but separate beds.
They’re still hashing out details.
I’ll come.
I send the response before I can second-guess myself.
The bubbles pop up under my response.
DM’d you.
In my private messages, I find a picture of flight details and a link to purchase. Other girl was wasting my time. If you’re serious, book this and screenshot as a reply.
Once I’m on the airline page, I grab the credit card that my parents still pay out of my wallet. There have to be some perks to being abandoned on a long weekend. I don’t allow my brain to engage as I type in all my details and press on the pay now button. While the payment processes, a brief shot of panic spikes in me. This guy could be anyone, and not in a good way.
A boarding pass appears on my screen and a thank you for my payment.
God, that was expensive. It’s a good thing he’s paying for everything else. At least I can justify it to my parents that way.
I screenshot the transaction and send it to BF in our private chat. He sends me another picture of the hotel name and location. Immediately, I save it to my phone, and then I text it to Monica.
In case he’s a murderer. This is where I’m supposed to be for the weekend.
Monica responds immediately with an LOL and heart eyes. One of us is a bad influence, and I’m starting to think it’s not me.
When I click back over to the chat with BF, he’s left another message.
I’ll text you at the airport. Glad you’re a dude. So tired of the drama!
I frown at the message. He thinks I’m a dude? Why would he think I’m a guy? On my chat profile, the other shoe drops. My avatar is a J in Bellerive blue, and the only name visible is my last one: Jensen.
My fingers hover over my keyboard. I’ve already paid for my flight. Do I tell him I’m a drama-rama girl or leave him to be surprised at the airport?
My lips twist into a smile.
See you tonight!






When the weather permits, you can find her outside walking her golden retriever, or enjoying a nice cocktail by the pool. She loves cooking and entertaining for her family and friends.
When she’s not holding a glass of wine in one hand and her kindle in the other, she loves to hear from her readers at:
Authorsjoneswrites@gmail.com







