This is the story about what happens when you hit the big three-oh and have to make good on that pinky promise.
Personally, I think love, romance and all of that nonsense is a crock of, well, you know. And Reese Collins, the boy who used to put worms in my hair at backyard barbecues, knows that better than anyone.
But when he moves to the same city I’ve happily, and singly, inhabited for years, memories of oaths past resurface. Reese is like a dog with a bone; a really hot dog and that bone just happens to be me.
He won’t stop hounding me, and the crazy thing is, my frigid, traitorous heart is starting to cave. For my best friend.
It seems so far off, when you’re a kid playing Monopoly in your treehouse. But when that clock strikes midnight on your thirtieth birthday, and you’re standing alone in front of a grocery store-bought cupcake, a childhood deal to walk down the aisle doesn’t seem so silly anymore.
Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book, and still can’t fathom that she gets to live her dream each and every day.
When she isn’t in a writing coma, Carrie spends time Netflix-binging with her husband, snuggling her infant daughter, and chasing her black Lab through the dog parks of New Jersey.