I wasn't made to be in love. I used to think I was, but that didn't work out very well. Instead of dwelling on it, I turned to the books I write. I made my characters more broody and feisty. I make them work for it.

It was going swell. Till the day a woman, a real-life woman, decided she wanted to challenge me even more than I challenged the people in my books. And man oh man, does she make me work for it.

I'll admit, the whole thing was my fault, a result of the cockiness I held before she came into my life. I was the first to suggest we fake a relationship. Once that worked out well-too well if you ask me-I was hooked. I'd have taken any opportunity to spend more time with her. And I did.

Even though I knew our time was limited, I wish I had processed the ending better ... prepared myself more, you know. Then again... what if I let myself be the hero for once? What if I let myself see that it could all work out and that I could have the girl in the end?

Maybe, just maybe, all I needed was for the right woman to come into my life.

Here's to hoping.