Tiffany White

Yes, at seven-thirty. Your name—”

The door to her office opened and her assistant called out, advising her that the executive editor, her boss, wanted to see her, pronto.

“Hello…” Dawson said impatiently. “I haven’t got all day, lady. The other line is ringing.”

“Britt Astor,” Brittany replied, adding her address on Park Avenue, while Sandy waved to her frantically.

By the time Brittany fixed the scheduling snafu for her boss and nabbed a seat on the subway, she was too exhausted to worry about the upcoming interview. She was too tired to malinger over the fact that she’d given her name and address to a complete stranger— and a cranky one, at that. Oh

been in short supply.

He’d grown into a young man who would take any risk to get the attention he craved. Date any beautiful woman for the same reason. His accident had forced him to see that he’d grown into a man his parents were proud of because he’d become just like them.

He had their superficial values and a life devoid of love. How ironic that the accident that had made him realize the truth had also left him too damaged to pursue love