My Neighbor’s Secret – Alternate Cover Read Online Lauren Rowe

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)

I hate him and I don’t even know his name.

The good news is my nemesis has made it abundantly clear the feeling is mutual. He did call me pretty, though, in the midst of a heated screaming match. Which would have been flattering, if I didn’t loathe him so much. But whatever. I don’t care how handsome he might be, or how charming the rest of the world probably finds him, guys who look like aged-out boy banders aren’t my type. Add to that, he’s got a knack for being in precisely the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was thrilled to march away from our angry skirmish and never see the bastard with the piercing blue eyes, ever again.

It wasn’t meant to be, though. As it turns out, my sworn enemy is my new next-door neighbor. F*ck my life. Luckily, he’s got a big secret to keep, just like I do. He’s in a jam, and so am I. So, we’ve decided to put our differences aside long enough to resolve our respective predicaments. Of course, we’ve made it clear this is going to be a business arrangement and nothing more. A necessary means to an end. But when you’re forced to work closely with your sworn enemy, a guy who happens to be ridiculously attractive and surprisingly funny—when he actually starts to grow on you, much to your shock—keeping things strictly professional becomes easier said than done.

My Neighbor’s Secret is a funny, silly, zany, swoony, spicy, enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity rom com that will keep you laughing, swooning, guessing, and fanning yourself, all the way to Charlotte and Auggie’s happily ever after.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



Idid it.

I’ve finally arrived in my new, temporary hometown of Seattle after three long days of driving by myself. As soon as I can get myself a new job that returns me to my old life, and also figure out a way to unload the pricey condo I never should have bought, I’ll be out of here. But for now, I’m thrilled to get to live in the same city as my lifelong bestie again, if only for a few months.

Buzzing with excitement, I burst through the front door of Captain’s, Tessa’s downtown bar, and immediately scan the place looking for her. Captain’s is a popular hot spot, so it’ll surely be packed later; but at this time in the afternoon, it’s easy to spot Tessa Morgan—Tessa Rodriguez, when growing up with me—standing near the bar. She’s chatting with one of her employees and looking equal parts Argentinian assassin, badass businesswoman, and pregnant supermodel.

I take two bounding steps into the trendy space before planting my feet like a gymnast sticking a landing and shriek, “Let’s get this party started, Crazy Girl!”

Tessa’s dark eyes abruptly shift to me, and the moment she beholds my beaming, ecstatic face, she whoops, throws her arms up, and bounds gleefully toward me, her adorable baby bump leading the way.

As Tessa makes her way toward me, I launch enthusiastically into the silly dance moves we choreographed together as tweens at a birthday sleepover. Later that year, we performed the routine at our sixth-grade talent show, much to the mortification of both sets of our older brothers, and we’ve been performing the dance, ever since.

Despite being in her place of business, Tessa stops short before reaching me and enthusiastically mirrors my gyrating, flailing movements without missing a beat. Although Tessa, unlike me, is making our ridiculous choreography look graceful and sexy, while I look like a clown on cocaine who’s been shot out of a cannon. But that’s per usual. Tessa’s always been the effortlessly elegant, mysterious brunette of our duo, while I’ve always been the comedic relief—a high-energy redhead who telegraphs every emotion on her expressive face and who’ll do basically anything for a laugh.

Midway through our routine, we both dissolve into laughter, meet in the middle, and fall into a warm embrace. “Welcome to Seattle, Nut Job,” Tessa whispers into my hair.

“I’m so excited to be here with you, Crazy Girl. I’ve missed you.” Even though I won’t be here long, I know whatever time spent here will be exactly what my bedraggled, paranoid, sleep-deprived soul needs. God, I’ve missed this woman. When I got laid off from my job as a flight attendant last month and lost the perk of free flights, I could no longer hop a free flight to visit Tessa and her family on a whim. Such a bummer. Due to that specific loss of benefits, and the loss of my job and income in general, and also combined with the heightened anxiety I’ve caused myself by doing that idiotic, stupid thing the day before my layoff, and this has been the most stressful, isolating, and nerve-wracking period of my entire life.

“Are you feeling any better?” I ask, touching Tessa’s blooming belly. She’s been feeling acute morning sickness with this, her third pregnancy.

Tessa nods. “Now that I’m in my second trimester, I’m sure I’ll feel much better soon. That’s how it went with Zach and Claire, so I’m hoping this one follows suit. How are you feeling?”

She’s referring to my lay off and the lack of progress I’ve been making with my job search. Tessa doesn’t know about the other major stress I’ve been under—the one I caused myself by making that colossally stupid mistake, and I’m hoping to keep it that way. If I tell Tessa about the mess I’ve made, she’ll try to fix it for me. Because that’s what she does. And there’s no way I’m going to drag anyone I love into this particular mess of mine, especially not someone I love as much as Tessa.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” I lie. “Now that I’m finally here with you.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“However long it takes to get a new job and/or fix up the condo enough to sell it for a profit or rent it out at a rate that makes sense with my mortgage payment. I’m guessing no longer than a couple months.”

Tessa pouts. She’s tried to get me to move from our hometown of LA to her new city many times over the past six years. But like I keep telling her, the rainy, gloomy weather in Seattle isn’t my jam. Not to live in, anyway. I love pulling out a fashionable raincoat when visiting Paris or London. Bad weather is glamorous when traveling. But in my real life, give me all the Southern California sunshine, please.