KattyKatReads

Crushes are harmless—unless they involve your best friend’s grumpy, off-limits brother. Gannon Brewer is the epitome of my type. He’s at least ten years older than me, emotionally unavailable, and highly disagreeable—a walking red flag in a tailored suit. But do I listen to that? No. In fact, when his office plants start dying, I convince myself that I can ignore the pheromones and save the philodendron. Now I’m in his office every week, dodging sinful smirks and heated stares, reminding myself to reach for the watering can—not him. But one “ivy incident” changes everything.

When you’re an artist, everything has to be perfect. Or so I thought, until my professor told me my perfection was boring and unoriginal. Studying abroad in Florence has taught me one thing: I know nothing when it comes to what makes art truly beautiful. So, with my professor's words in my ear, I step outside one evening and decide to say yes to any and everything I’m faced with until the sun rises.

When you've been told your whole life that something is sinful, you have two options. Avoid it like the plague, like it has the power to destroy all that is good and pure. Or become as fixated upon it as Eve was upon that apple. I'm sick of the push-pull of terror and temptation. It's tearing me apart. I just want a bite of the apple. More than a bite. I want to devour it. Have its juices spill from my lips. And by apple, I, of course, mean sex.