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Informationen zum Autor ??Krista and Becca Ritchie are New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors and identical twins—one a science nerd, the other a comic book geek—but with their shared passion for writing, they combined their mental powers as kids and have never stopped telling stories. They love superheroes, flawed characters, and soul mate love. Klappentext "The TikTok sensation Addicted Series continues with Kiss the Sky, now in a print edition with special bonus material! Fall in love with Rose and Connor in this edgy new adult romance set in a world of lust, fame, swoonworthy men, and friendships that run deeper than blood in this special edition with bonus materials-in print only! A virgin "ice queen" heiress & the arrogant god who wants to melt her... Rose Calloway thought she had everything under control. At twenty-three, she's a Princeton graduate, an Academic Bowl champion, a fashion designer and the daughter of a Fortune 500 mogul. But not everything comes easy. When Rose's fashion line is in peril, she plans an unconventional solution to save it. Making matters more intense, she agrees to be in a relationship with her "godly" college rival, Connor Cobalt. At twenty-four, Connor Cobalt bulldozes weak men. Confident and smart-as-hell, Connor vows to help Rose outside of the bedroom and inside. But melting this ice queen is a challenge no one has been able to succeed at. And now they're living together"-- Leseprobe One Rose Calloway You know the stories where the strong, brawny man struts into a room with his head high, his chest puffed and his stocky shoulders pulled back-he's the king of the jungle, the big man on campus, the one who quivers girls' knees. He carries an air of unwarranted superiority for the pure fact that he has a dick, and he knows it. He expects the girl to go tongue-tied and agree to his every demand. Well, I am living that story right now. The man settles into a seat at the head of the conference table (instead of the chair nearest me) and just stares in my direction. Maybe he thinks I'm going to be that stupefied girl. That I will cower beneath his deep gray eyes and his combed dishwater-blond hair. He's twenty-eight, stained with Hollywood elitism and self-righteousness. When I first talked to him, he name-dropped actors and producers and directors, waiting for me to go slack-jawed and dopey. "I know so-and-so. I did a project with what's-his-face." My boyfriend had to grab the phone out of my hand before I cursed at the Hollywood exec for irritating the shit out of me. He finally speaks. "Do you have the contracts?" His chair screeches as he leans back. I pull out the stack of papers from my handbag. "Bring them here." He motions to me with two fingers. "You could have sat beside me," I retort, standing on two chunky heels with brass buttons, military-inspired and part of the new Calloway Couture collection. "But I didn't," he says easily. "Come here." My heels clink across the hardwood, and I make the perilous catwalk up to Scott Van Wright. He props one ankle on his thigh, his finger to his cheek as he unabashedly peruses my body. From my slender legs to the hem of my black pleated dress with sheer quarter-sleeves and to the high collar that frames my stiff neck. He traces my dark-glossed lips, my rose-blushed cheeks, and bypasses right over my pissed-off eyes, spending an extra moment fixated on my chest. I stop by his legs and throw the contracts on the table in front of him. They slide off the polished surface and land on his lap. One stapled stack even slips to the floor. I smile wide since he has to bend down awkwardly to reach them. "Pick that up," he tells me. My smile fades. "It's underneath the desk." He cocks his head, giving me another long once-over. "And you dropped it." He cannot be serious. I...
