Note to self: Do not allow my mother to choose a tenant for my house ever again.

I like things done a certain way.
Some call me uptight, I prefer precise.

I can’t understand why my mother thought Evie Jackson would be the type of person I want to rent my house. She knows me, knows how I live my life.

Instead of the quiet librarian I’m expecting, Evie’s a vibrant, tattooed woman who seems to find immense joy in making my life miserable.

She pushes me outside of my comfort zone. It’s called a comfort zone for a reason, and I have no interest in venturing from it.

I hate her, and I’m positive that feeling is mutual. Why else would Evie go out of her way to make my life difficult?


Author's Note: This novella is part one in a three part serial