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I wouldn’t say I ran away exactly—twenty-two is too old for that.
I’d call it self-preservation.
I have one objective: protect my heart from the boy next door who has no clue I’ve loved him my whole life, even with a front row seat to his revolving bedroom door.
My escape plan almost worked.
Except I left one thing behind.
Logan Carter hijacked my heart, and it’s time to get it back. This time for good.


I wouldn’t say I’ve been lying this whole time—not about everything.
Not about how much I miss my best friend, and definitely not about how pissed I am that she left with hardly a goodbye.
She’s the last person I ever expected to ghost me, and her absence left a gaping hole in my chest.
When Joey Grayson steps off that bus, I know I’ll do anything to keep her home, and that means finding out the truth.
But I’m not sure how to tell her my truths when I’m living so many lies.


Lex Martin

Expected Release Date: 18 February 2020

Book Series: 

He’s the boy next door who was always getting in trouble. She is his sweet, shy neighbour who’s always loved him. But now they’re all grown up, and she’s tired of waiting for him to get a clue… A sweet friends-to-lovers, small town romance is coming next week from author Lex Martin, and I have a sneak peek for you.

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We’re shooting the shit in the kitchen, sitting around the bar when, three big gulps into my iced tea, I choke.

What is Joey wearing?

At first, all my monkey brain can process is skin. Golden skin. Smooth planes with faint freckles. And curves. So many fucking curves.

Despite my hacking cough, I still manage to ogle the woman, who’s now decked out in what have to be Tori’s clothes. Because I have never seen Joey put so much on display. Even when we go swimming, she always wears a giant T-shirt over her suit. 

I’m not judging. Women should wear whatever they want. I’m not some Neanderthal. I’m just not used to my friend in this context. The limited clothing context. 

As I stare at her, two words come to mind: Mouthwatering tits. Damn, she’s stacked.

Is it hot in here? I take one more gulp of my tea, feeling like I got struck in the face by a two-by-four. How have I not ever noticed that my best friend is alarmingly attractive? It’s like my head always knew this, but the rest of me is only now catching on.

Awkwardly, she tugs at her tank, to pull it away from her stomach. She’s shy, and judging from the flush crawling up her neck, she’s feeling it now too.

I wonder where else she gets flushed.

Not cool, dude.

I’m about to turn away when I catch a glimpse of her round little ass in those snug shorts. Fuck me.

My cock agrees with a hearty nod.

Clenching my eyes shut, I think of all the disgusting things I can. Like that time Patrick puked up eggs through his nose after going on a bender. Or how much horse shit I have to shovel when one of our ranch hands calls in sick. Or when my nephew crapped all over my lap when he was two.


My dick stands down enough that I can lean back in my seat, but now I’m wary. Joey and I have spent tons of time together over the years, and I’ve never been so affected by her presence.

Is that why I was acting like a tool out on the front stoop, grabbing her and telling Patrick to piss off? I’ve been a dick to him all day for no good reason, except maybe he’s right… I’m feeling territorial about Joey. More than my typical BFF concerns.

I’m gonna need something stronger than tea to wrap my head around this.

Sure, I’ve missed her. Been upset with her for disappearing on me. Wanted to straighten things between us, but the thoughts hurtling through my brain have more to do with exploring that tight little body rather than reuniting with an old pal.

And that’s a line I’ve never crossed. But given how my friends and family constantly encourage the “Team LoJo” relationship, it’s no wonder my thoughts are going haywire.

I’ve had her firmly placed in the little sister category for so long that even when she grew curves, I’ve always tried to ignore it. 


Except for that one spring.

A flash of a memory from my senior year breaks out of the box I keep all the shit from that time locked down.

Of her laughing. Of us talking in the barn. She was only fourteen and so fucking beautiful. It was always her eyes that got me. Pierced me down to my soul—the way she looked at me. The way she trusted me.

And as someone once pointed out, women should never trust me.

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