Crazy Sara embraces her reputation, it doesn’t bother her, because she’s living her best life until her best friend’s brother moves in. New to NYC, Zack needs a place to crash and quickly realizes that his new roomie isn’t as crazy as everyone thinks. Can these two play for keeps or are they just roommates? Readers will fall in love with this roommates romance from Allie York. The 425 Madison series is back with season three and JUST ROOMMATES is live!

Sara

I’m known around 425 Madison, and to my friends, as Crazy Sara. While they never use the nickname to my face, I know my reputation precedes me. That’s just fine with me, after all I’ve got everything I ever wanted. I have an apartment in the swankiest building in NYC, a different date every night, and the future is mine for the taking.

Okay so maybe only one thing is missing - the perfect roommate to keep me company.

Unfortunately, the roommate who wants me is not what I had in mind. And my best friend gave me one rule: Don’t sleep with her brother.

Zack

With an art degree in hand it only makes sense for me to move to NYC. Both of my sisters live here and my new niece. New York has an endless supply of muses for my art and models to entertain.

Things were just fine in my new life, until my sister gets tired of me crashing in her guest room and decides I’ll be the perfect roommate for her friend Crazy Sara. I’m on board with a change of scenery as long as the scenery is my sister’s gorgeous friend. But turns our Crazy Sara isn’t really as crazy as they all claim and she’s not really interested in me - or at least that’s what she claims.

That’s fine, two can play this game…

After all, 425 Madison is the perfect place to fall in love!

Excerpt

“Well?” I jump, brush hovering over the canvas to put the last stroke on my painting. Sara’s voice cuts through all the noise in my head and the acoustic crap coming from my phone. I forgot I turned it on. I drop the brush into the cup of turpentine and look up at her. Sara has her arms to the side, palms up, and spins when I look at her. In true Sara date attire, she’s in a tight dress. The red against her pale skin draws the eye to the short hemline and low neckline. The back dips to the middle of her back, and her hair is piled up on her head to show off her slender neck. Diamond studs, black heels, and red lips solidify the look. Before I met Sara, I never would have looked at a woman dressed like a trophy wife, but suddenly I can’t take my eyes off her.

Sara looks at me for feedback. “You look amazing,” I say it with zero irony. I’ve seen her get dressed and leave for seven dates now, but she’s never asked for my opinion, and I’ve never really noticed how gorgeous she is. Of course, I know she’s pretty, but maybe after seeing her with her face natural, hair wet, and the prettiest I’ve ever seen her, I can appreciate the made up Sara.

“Thanks!” she chirps in her high voice she uses when on the phone, face turning pink.

“Welcome,” I mumble.

“Where is your shirt?” Sara’s eyes rake over me appreciatively.

“Over there.” I point at the table. “Don’t want to get paint on it.” I gesture at the specks of black on my freckled chest.

“Oh, well, don’t wait up, I think this one is a winner.” Sara winks her long lashes and grabs her black wallet from the table next to the door. My stomach twists into a knot, and I take a breath. Why do I suddenly care what she does?

“Good luck. Be safe.” I force a smile. My voice sounds like gravel when I force the words out.

Sara pauses and blinks at me. “I will. Thanks.” I take the four strides to where she’s hovering near the door and put my hand on the knob, putting me only inches from her. Her eyes go wide.

“I’ll lock the door behind you.” I twist the handle, watching the rise and fall of her chest when her breathing picks up. She swallows, big blue eyes staring up at me.

“Thank you.” She clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably.

“Anytime,” I answer after a long pause. I can smell her all around me, feel the tension crackling between us, and lean forward only an inch. Her eyes flutter closed, the gold dusting on them shimmers in the light. I lean in closer, able to feel her breath on my lips, and close my eyes.

The knock on the door makes me jump back, eyes flying open. Sara squeals, stumbling back on her high heels. Her hip bumps the table by the door, and my keys hit the floor with a dull thud. Sara’s chest rises and falls like she just ran a marathon, and my heart might come free of my ribcage. She looks up at me like a deer in headlights, and I must look the same.

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About Allie

Allie is a mom and dog groomer by day. At night she is posted at her laptop writing or reading in a cozy corner. She has a soft spot for gooey romance, over-creamed coffee, and anything cute and furry.

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