Page 189 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

PROLOGUE

By now, most women have met the half dozen or so basic types of men in the world.

Just to be sure, though, let’s review the lineup.

First, there’s the too-cool-for-school playboy who solemnly swears he’ll never settle down.

Next to him in the modern-day parade of dudes is the Grouchy McGrouch Pants.

This surly, bearded guy is a softie beneath the dickhead exterior he shows to the world, along with his beanie cap.

By his side is the guarded businessman in his three-piece suit, housing deep, dark secrets that only one woman can unlock.

We have other roles in Guy Central Casting: the lumbersexual, the groomed father, the citified pretty boy, the hot nerd, and the bad boy with a heart of gold.

Trust me when I say the ladies of the world have heard every one of their stories.

I know that because I’ve fucking heard them.

I’ve heard them from the guys, and I’ve heard them from the gals.

When you take people out of their comfort zone and into the woods, they tend to tell you everything—every sordid detail.

I’m honestly kind of amazed that men and women, women and women, and men and men get together at all.

There’s so much baggage going around, it’s like a goddamn virus.

As for me?

I’m simple. I travel light. I don’t bring luggage to the table. I hoist my backpack and I’m ready to go.

I’m a man of many skills. Give me a battery and I’ll start a campfire.

Show me an old phone and I’ll make a compass.

I’m the guy who knows how to get out of jams. I can fix a tire, repair a sink, gut a fish, pick a lock, and survive a bear attack—I’ve been there, done that, and have the merit badges to prove it.

Not gonna lie. Women do tend to like a guy who can get shit done without bitching about it. That’s why I’ve had a nice run of luck with the ladies. But I’m not looking just to get lucky anymore.

I’m ready for a whole lot more.

I’d like to think that makes me the good guy with all the skills when we’re talking about types. I’m the unicorn, and I’m not just talking about the length of my horn, if you catch my drift.

I’m the guy who’s fit, successful, baggage-fucking-free, and—wait for it—ready to settle down.

Just call me a four-leaf clover.

The trouble is the woman I want is off-limits. She’s my buddy’s sister. But don’t worry. That’s not the issue. Max is a cool cat, and he has no problem with the fact that I have it bad for his little sis.

The problem is something else entirely, and I have one week to fix it. This is where all my life-hacking skills will have to come into play.

Let’s do this.