He’s my brother’s best friend.
The hot single dad next door.
And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret.
Make Me Yours, an all-new rom com that is all too sexy from USA Today
bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now!
It’s my own damn fault. I’m thirty years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible
adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would
do to me.
I wasn’t supposed to hit send.
He wasn’t supposed to see it.
And he definitely wasn’t supposed to text back telling me to go on . . .
Because after that, things escalate quickly.
Cole is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s sexy and protective. A devoted father to his little girl. A dedicated cop the whole town adores. The kind of guy you can trust to keep his hands to himself, even when you’re desperately hoping he won’t.
I’m not the girl he thought he’d end up with, but after all this time, I might finally get the chance to say the words I’ve always dreamed of . . . make me yours.
If you want to read an excerpt from the book check that out below!
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Darlene spoke up. “My mother passed them down to me, and I want to make sure they’re
in good condition so I can leave them to Cheyenne when she gets married.” Then she crossed herself
and closed her eyes, her lips moving in a quick, silent prayer. Cheyenne ignored her mother and
addressed Mariah again. “My brother and I always had to wash and dry the wedding china on holidays
before we went to bed. It took forever.”
“I’d stay and help you, sis, but I have to get Blair home. Sorry.” Griffin gave her a grin that said he wasn’t
the least bit sorry, and Cheyenne stuck her tongue out at him.
“Cole, why don’t you stay and give Cheyenne a hand?” My mother suggested, wrapping her scarf around her
“That’s a great idea,” Darlene said brightly. Then she sort of bent over and rubbed one hip, her expression
agonized. “I’d help her myself but I’ve been on my feet a lot today and the doctor said that isn’t good for my joints.”
“You should just get to bed, Darlene,”my mother said, shepherding Mariah toward the front door. “Cole will be
more than happy to stay and help Cheyenne.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Cheyenne smiled at me and shook her head. “I can handle them.”
But Darlene beamed at me, reaching over and snatching my coat out of my hands. “That’s so nice of you, Cole.
I’ll just hang this in the front closet.” Before she left the room, she and my mother exchanged a look that had me
wondering if the whole helping-with-the-dishes thing had been a set-up.
Either way, ten minutes later Cheyenne and I were pushing up our sleeves in the kitchen, the house dark and silent
except for the running faucet and the hum of the dishwasher.
“I’ll wash, you dry?” she asked, adding dish soap to the side of the sink she’d plugged and lined with a towel.
She took a plate from the stack to her left and placed it in the warm soapy water. “Oh! I almost forgot.” Slipping her rings
and bracelets off, she set them on the windowsill above the sink. “So I don’t scratch anything,” she explained.
“Oh.” I glanced down at my wedding ring. “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to take it off.”
“It’s fine,” I said, working it off my finger and placing it on the sill next to her jewelry. For some reason, I felt compelled to
explain why I still wore it all the time. “Mariah once told me she likes when I wear it, so . . .”
“I think it’s nice, ”she said. “I like a guy who wears his ring. It says something about him, you know?”
I nodded, my attraction to her growing even stronger. “Still, we’d better be careful with these dishes.”
“Damn right, we’d better,” she deadpanned. “This is my fucking wedding china, Cole. If we even look at it wrong, I might
end up a spinster.” She laughed as she gently scrubbed the plate with a cloth. “My God. Is she not totally ridiculous?”
“She’s pretty bad,” I agreed, taking the plate from her and carefully drying it with the soft clean towel she’d given me.
“But mine wasn’t much better tonight. Did you have the feeling something was up between them as we were saying goodnight?”
“Yes,” she said. “And it’s probably my fault because I made the mistake of telling my mom you bought me dinner last night. In
her mind, I believe we are now betrothed.”
I laughed. “That’s all it takes, huh?”
“Apparently. Tomorrow I’ll be pregnant because we washed dishes together after dark.”
“Wow. Guess I should have worn the rubber gloves.”
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