Meet Lauren Halsted. It's all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos. After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh's arms, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming.
Meet Matthew Walsh. A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do—unless, of course, she was naked. She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway, and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.
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