by Aja Cole
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Thank You!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Also by Aja Cole
Stay Connected!
About the Author
Professor Sexy
Quick & Hot: Hockey Romance
Aja Cole
Contents
Thank You!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
14. Epilogue
Also by Aja Cole
Stay Connected!
About the Author
Professor Sexy
Aja Cole
Copyright © 2018 by Aja Cole.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First Edition March 2018
To all of my family and friends that have supported me every time I’ve said, “I’m writing a book.”
I couldn’t have done it without your love and constant encouragement.
To everyone who reads my books and comes back for more…you fucking rock.
To my author friends and the people who let me vent and freak out and constantly inspire me to keep going…
Thank you. I love you all.
And to my baby leapfrog, may you always know how much you are loved.
Thank You!
I just wanted to say a quick thank you for giving my writing a chance, and I hope it gives you everything you’re looking for!
I like my love scenes steamy and my sweet scenes sappy.
Now, please enjoy and I hope you love my characters as much as I do!
~ Aja Cole
1
Neiko
I drag my suitcase over the threshold of my apartment and heave a tired sigh, wiping my forehead with my shirt sleeve.
Four flights of stairs and no elevator. Moving day was a bitch, but it’s better than being on the first floor and having bug issues. I’ve lived here for three years now, blissfully alone, and I love it.
But this is what happens when you go home and your mom re-packs your bag. I don’t know what else she put in here, but it’s way more than just my laundry.
I set it against the wall and head to my thermostat, turning the heat on. Usually, I’m all about saving energy, but I can’t be bothered to layer up in sweats and a hoodie right now.
I just want to sleep.
I’m still feeling the remnants of the flu, and I couldn’t sleep during any of the three-hour drive. I’ve missed my bed for two weeks, and I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.
After stripping and making myself at least brush my teeth and do a pared down version of my skincare, I make sure all the lights are off and my door’s locked.
I melt into my sheets and curl up with my body pillow, letting loose a soul deep sigh at the familiarity. My room back home is the guest room now, so it’s devoid of all of the comforts I have here.
It always amazes me at how much of a visitor I feel like in the home I grew up in. My dad said it’s intentional because there’s no way in hell that any of his kids are doing the stay at home thing.
Parents are stone-cold, I tell ya.
The minute my eyes start drifting closed and I feel like I’m floating in a warm cocoon of high thread count sheets and down feathers, it begins.
The group chat notifications that I forgot to mute.
Damn, damn, damn.
My phone is across the room on my desk, because I’ve been trying this semester to have a screen-free life when I’m ready to sleep. But the notifications keep going, and they won’t stop unless those bitches shut up, or I silence them.
Sometimes I hate my friends.
Huffing, I sling back my comforter and stomp to my desk, snatching up the phone.
I know exactly what the hussies are talking about, and I don’t even read through the messages before turning on my caps-lock and telling them exactly what I think about their midnight gushing sessions.
It doesn’t phase them at all. The girls just send gifs and jokes about me only being so pissy because I haven’t met the new guest teacher.
Bria: You don’t need sleep Neiko, you need to get your ass to class.
Neiko: I just got home asshats, I’ll be in class tomorrow. Stop exaggerating about this teacher and go the fuck to bed.