The Bombshell Effect

<p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">My new neighbor is a complete jerk. A tall, brooding, tattooed jerk. I tried to be nice, bake some cupcakes for him and his adorable daughter, and the only reaction I could come up with to his ice-cold reception was to shove those pink cupcakes right into his muscular chest.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">In my defense, it was a rough week.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Being back in Seattle for the first time in years was hard enough, the fact that I was there for the dispersal of my father's will made it even harder. I had no intention of staying, until I got a football stadium-sized surprise as my dad's final gift to me.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">No ... really. He left me a football team.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">It's how I found myself in a conference room, staring down the veteran quarterback who wants nothing to do with a new owner. And that quarterback? It's my tall, brooding, tattooed jerk of a neighbor.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Now he's everywhere. Next door with his daughter. In meetings. Don't even get me started on away games.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Luke Pierson is under my skin, and pretty soon, I'm not sure I want it any other way.</span></p>