Hit and Run by Emilia Finn

Meet-cutes are supposed to be… cute, right?

A stroll through the park. A lingering stare with a handsome stranger. A sexy little smile that says “Hey, want to ruin each other’s lives in a fun, romantic way?”

Yeah. Not my story.
I hit my handsome stranger with my car.
Launched him over the hood. Wrecked his shoulder. And for one horrifying second, I genuinely considered burying him in the woods because I thought he was dead.

Merry freakin’ Christmas to me.
We’re a week out from the worst holiday ever created—tinsel, forced family time, aggressively cheerful music.
Hard. Pass.

But here’s the thing: December might not suck quite so hard anymore.
Because the man I accidentally vehicular–manslaughter-adjacent-ed?
He’s annoyingly gorgeous. Surprisingly sweet. He looks like sin even with his arm in a sling, and flirts like it’s a competitive sport.

And if the sketch on the news is anything to go by, he might also be a charming, infuriating, potential felon-in-hiding.
Which, honestly, might be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in this godforsaken month.

Turns out, fate doesn’t always whisper.
Sometimes it slams a gorgeous man onto the hood of your car and says,
Try again, sweetheart.