Blair is just looking for someone to take the edge off her crappy life. Dull the pain, breathe a little life into her neglected body. A chance meeting at a bar leads to a night of passion. No names, no personal details. Just sex.
Well, it wasn’t personal until she sees the guy standing on a stage ten meters in front of her. How the hell didn’t she realize that the guy who blew her mind is the guitarist out of that dirty rock’n’roll band, Affliction? And why is he chasing her down the street? And how does he know her name?
Sometimes you find the things you didn’t even know you were looking for in the most unexpected places.
Amity Cross isn’t my real name. That’s no secret.
I didn’t want my Mum and my workplace to find out I wrote about doodles and tongue-in-cheek sexual innuendo.
I live in a leafy suburb of Melbourne writing about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don’t take s**t lying down.
Insert more pretentious c**p here.