So Much More (Made for Love #3) Read Online Free PDF

about the fact that half of my wardrobe consists of, what I’ve dubbed, teacher dresses ; cute but functional. In fact, I’m so intent on emptying boxes that I hardly think of anything else accept the task at hand.
    That is, until I come across the red coat.
    That fucking red coat.
    I don’t remember packing it. In fact, I don’t even know why I still have it. I should have burned it. The fucking red coat. A big, fat, red reminder of the most humiliating moment of my entire life. Wrapped in the once thought beautiful and admired trench coat, I’d never been more exposed or vulnerable. Not just physically, but emotionally too. In it, I had been bold, daring, and sexy. In it, I was every boy’s wet dream—I was his vixen.
    I was ready. I was willing.
    I had decided…
    Fucking piece-of-shit red coat.
    I shove the despised article of clothing back into the box and kick it. It slides across the floor as if I’d given it a gentle push and I huff out an irritated sigh.
    I need to bake something. Now .
    I abandon that box for another. I unpack my KitchenAid mixer—the buttercup yellow one I spent months saving up for—and I march my way into the immaculate kitchen, praying that Millie has something that will enable me to throw together a batch of cookies. I’m in luck— thank God— and I’m able to scrounge up the necessary ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.
    She’s even got walnuts!
    I make a mental note of everything I use so that I can replace it when I go to the grocery store. I’ll just have to explain that it was an emergency. In the event of a near emotional breakdown, something sweet must be made.
    I don’t need a recipe; and in an hour, I’m well on my way to having a plate full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. While I munch on cookie dough and wait for the kitchen timer to buzz, I take a good look around. I open every cabinet and every drawer in an attempt to get the lay of the land. I also wonder if she’s got any room for me to house some of my bakeware. I find one empty cabinet that might hold a fraction of what I’ve brought.
    Just as the timer sounds, I hear the front door open. I pull the cookie sheet from the oven and turn to go greet Millie with a hot treat when I see her standing in the kitchen doorway. The look on her face stops me dead in my tracks.
    Aria was right. Millie is easy on the eyes. She’s got long, ashy brown hair that’s so light it looks like it’s shimmering. Her body has a slight build with a timelessly elegant face. I imagine that her green eyes are why people might find her charming—only, that’s more of a theory at this point. Currently, she looks like she’s ready to throw daggers at me.
    “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. A sloth? I live with a fucking sloth now?”
    My jaw falls open in amazement. Before I can think of a single thing to say, she’s slamming cupboard doors shut as she stomps around the kitchen.
    “ Clearly we’re going to need rules. I can’t come home to this shit every day. If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t live like a fucking pig.” She gasps as she reaches for an empty bag of Ghirardelli chocolate chips. “Are these mine? You steal things, too? Un-fucking-beliveable.”
    “It was an emergency,” I mutter lamely. There are so many other things in my head—explanations, apologies, reassurances—but she’s rendered me almost speechless.
    Did she really call me a sloth?
    She scrunches her brow at me as if she can’t believe how stupid I am for making such a remark. Under her scrutinizing gaze, I’m almost inclined to agree with her.
    “I sure as hell hope you can clean shit up as well as you fuck it up,” she grumbles as she storms off to her room.
    That’s my new roommate?
    My nose tingles as I look around the room. Yeah—it’s a little messy. I’ve never really been good at cleaning as I go, but seriously? Did she have to yell at me?
    I sure as hell hope you can clean shit up as well as you fuck it up.
    I