I am not a slut, although I’ve been called one often enough. Yeah, I spent three months screwing one of my college professors, but I was crazy about the guy. Then he broke up with me.

I am not a bitch, although people like to say I am. I kept our relationship secret. I’m not responsible for telling the university administrators about it, but a lot of students still blame me for getting their favorite professor fired.

I am not a drama queen, although everyone thinks I am now. When I got a few nasty messages, I just deleted them. When I got the threat, I assumed it was someone being stupid. I still think that’s all it was. My parents worry, though, so they hired me a bodyguard. Now Jack follows me around, intimidating everyone who approaches me and looking obnoxiously hot.

This is what I am. I’m Chloe. I’m a twenty-year-old art history major. Kind of shy, although I pretend not to be. Stubborn enough to stay here for my senior year, even though everyone hates me.

And I’m stuck with Jack.

He calls me “Princess,” but I’m not a princess either.

Knowing Jack is a New Adult contemporary romance and includes adult content and language. The plot of the book is fully resolved at the end, but the last page includes a hanging teaser for the next book in the series.

Excerpt

“Now would you please get out of here?” I say, raising my voice to make sure it carries appropriate authority. “In case you haven’t noticed, I still have to get dressed, and I’m already running late.”

Let’s not forget that I’m still wearing nothing but my favorite bra and panty set—which I put on a few minutes earlier to give me courage to face the day.

“Yeah, I did notice that.”

There is no reason for such harmless words to make me flush so hotly. They do, though. I have fair skin, so I blush a lot. It can be very annoying.

Jack is big—tall with amazing broad shoulders, flat abs, and lean hips. He suddenly seems to fill up all the space in my bedroom. My whole body reacts to his presence. I can’t seem to think of anything else. Just him and his body and his hot blue eyes.

“Be careful of the broken glass,” he says, some sort of rough texture in his voice that makes me want to shiver. “You’ve got bare feet.”

“I know I have bare feet. Now get out.”

“All right. But first tell me this.”

“What?”

“Why do you have naked babies on your underwear?”

“They’re not naked babies! They’re cherubs. And if you weren’t such a hulking Neanderthal you’d recognize Michelangelo when you saw it.”

I was absolutely thrilled earlier in the year when I found in a New York boutique this bra and panty set with details from the Sistine Chapel ceiling on them. They were absurdly expensive, as you might imagine, but I couldn’t resist buying them anyway.

Jack stares down at my bra. “Michelangelo?” He sounds rather dazed.

“Yeah. From the Sistine Chapel. Look, here’s where God’s hand meets Adam’s. Everyone recognizes that much at least.”

He clears his throat. “Uh, princess, you might think you’re showing me a famous work of art, but what I’m seeing is…”

“What?”

“The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Rachel is a writer, a teacher, a romance reader, and a dog-mom. She loves animals and art and hot men with soft hearts under a tough exterior. She tries to write love stories that feel real, even in unlikely circumstances.

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