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Informationen zum Autor Alexa Martin is the award-winning author of Better than Fiction , Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes , and the Playbook Series. Her novels have been chosen by NPR and Amazon for the best books of the year and her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan, Entertainment Weekly, and NPR. Her first book Intercepted was optioned for tv/film with Starz and G-Unit Production. She lives in Dallas with her husband, four children, and German Shepherd. The Playbook Series was inspired by the eight years she spent as an NFL wife and her deep love of all things pop culture, sparkles, leggings, and wine. When she’s not dreaming up her next romance hero, you can find her catching up on whatever Real Housewives franchise is currently airing or filling up her Etsy cart with items she doesn’t need. Klappentext ONE OF THE NEW YORK TIMES' BEST ROMANCES OF THE YEAR! "Martin’s prose is a live wire: There are little shocks of pleasure on every page."— New York Times Two rival candidates for a homeowner’s association presidency are about to find out how dirty suburbanites fight in this steamy new romantic comedy from Alexa Martin. After years of hustling, Collins Carter has finally made it...back to her parents’ house. Between tending to the compost with her newly retired dad and running into her high school nemesis at the only decent coffee shop in town, Collins realizes this subdivision from hell she swore she’d never return to is her rock bottom. Then the homeowner’s association complaint arrived. Nathaniel Adams always dreamed of a nice, quiet life in his suburban hometown. Or at least that’s what he thought until Collins moved back and sent his quaint, organized life into a tailspin. He thought Collins was infuriating ten years ago, but when she announces she’s running against him for HOA president, all bets are off. From secret board meetings to vicious smear campaigns whispered over backyard fences, Collins and Nate sink to levels their sleepy suburb has never seen before. But as hate turns into lust, these two enemies are forced to reckon with the feelings they’ve ignored for years. If only there were bylaws for real life. Leseprobe Chapter 1 If I hear live, laugh, love one more time, I'm going to die, scream, rage. I know my mom means well, but my phone's almost out of storage thanks to the abundance of uplifting memes and Bible verses she won't stop sending me. Maybe I'd appreciate her unrelenting positivity if I was still in LA, enjoying my oat milk latte from the adorable café I wrote in almost every day. But for some reason, the never-ending text stream hits a little different when I'm fifteen feet away, sitting in my childhood room, and notifications keep interrupting the shame spiral I've been living in for the last two months. I swipe away her latest text message and nestle deeper into the frilly comforter of my childhood past. I make sure the volume is all the way down-after all, who needs sound when every single word is ingrained in my brain?-and hit play on the video that has quite literally ruined my life. To say the camerawork is shoddy would be a massive understatement. The video bounces and bobbles around as the image blurs in and out until a woman standing in an empty parking lot wearing nothing but spike high heels and a silk robe comes into focus. A woman, of course, who happens to be me. Jazz hands! Honestly, it's borderline offensive that after all the time I spent in Los Angeles, all the scripts I wrote, all the internet content I produced hoping to hit my break à la Issa Rae, this is what has millions of views. You flip out and threaten to bury your lying, thieving ex one time and it goes viral? What are the chances? It just really sucks that instead of my brush with viral fame catapulting me to television-writing super...
