The first time I laid eyes on James Mason, the world stood still.

Unfortunately, the tether ball I’d just spiked didn’t, and when it ploughed into the back of my distracted head, I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

I don’t know why I was so dumbstruck. All he did was ride up on his skateboard and call my best friend’s name.

Perhaps it was his confidence that roused me. Or the funny cowlick at the front of his dirty-blond hair. Or the way his jeans sagged on his hips… Not that I’d ever noticed the way a boy’s jeans fit before.

But it wasn’t my name he called that day, and it never will be.

Because guys like James Mason don’t fall for bookworms like me. And even if they did, that farfetched dream died the day he became the stepbrother I never wanted.

Not that I don’t want him.

I love the idea of him wrestling me to the floor and pinning me down with the weight of his body. But there’s nothing familial about the way I wish he would pull my hair, the way I wish he would pull me close.

I’ll be taking that secret to the grave, though, because our families have been through enough.

Besides, he doesn’t see me that way.

So I keep biting my tongue. As hard as it takes to keep my secret.

And only when I’m alone do I ever imagine that it’s him.

(Blurb from Goodreads)