It’s harder to run from love when you’re living with it.
You’re So Basic, an all-new grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity, fall vibes romcom from USA Today bestselling author Angela Casella is now available!
I don’t want a new roommate.
I especially don’t want a new roommate who’s loud, mouthy, and so painfully hot I can’t keep my eyes off her.
Not that I’m interested in Mira Evans. She’s made it very clear that she agrees with the ex who famously broke up with me for being “too basic.”
But Mira breaks her ankle a few hours after moving in, and a couple of days later we’re stuck in an elevator…in the dark.
Secrets are revealed; lines are crossed. Now, this woman I wanted to avoid knows more about me than some of my best friends.
I’m a workaholic who can’t work, and staying cooped up inside is driving me crazy. Not to mention my no-good ex-boyfriend took Halloween a little too literally this year and paid a psychic to hex me.
I might not believe in magic, but I can’t deny I feel like I’ve been hexed. I have a broken ankle, and I’m falling for my roommate, a man who seems as adventurous as a pumpkin spice latte served up in a hand-knit sweater.
But getting stuck in that elevator with Danny proved to me there’s much more to him than there appears to be…and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
Maybe cabin fever has amped up my paranoia, but I get the feeling we’re being watched.
Start reading today!
Add You’re So Basic to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/49gmrsI
Read my review of You’re So Basic for more on Danny and Mira’s story.
Keep reading for a look inside You’re So Basic!
The elevator jars to a halt.
“What’s going on?”
For a man who seems to have a logical explanation for everything, Danny is temporarily
speechless, but his lips open, so hopefully an explanation will be forthcoming.
I figured the situation was dire enough, but then the light flickers out, instantly making
things two hundred times worse.
I lift my head up to look at him, although I’m not sure why, because it’s impossible to see.
Panic twists my guts into knots. “Danny.”
“It’s okay,” he says in an even voice, then surprises me by running a hand over my hair.
“We’ll figure this out.”
He helps me balance on the crutch and my one good foot, but my heart is racing, and I’m
not sure I can stay upright. I plant a palm on his chest and am surprised to feel his heart is racing
too, so maybe he’s not as immune to threat of possible death-by-elevator as he seems.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says evenly, placing his hand over mine. It’s warm and large,
and for a split second something very strange happens. I feel a pulse of awareness of him—of his
body in the dark and his hand layered over mine and the feeling of his fast-beating heart. Of his
scent too—nothing special, just a clean soap smell. Practical, like Danny, but also manly. Tingles
shoot through my hand, layered under his, and zip around my body like they’re soda bubbles,
and I feel myself leaning in closer. Maybe it’s just because he’s another person, and it feels like
we’ve been dropped into a void where only the two of us exist.
I should hobble back, but I can’t bring myself too. It feels like I’d fall off the edge of the
world. “Danny, I’m scared,” I hear myself admitting.
Surely it must be someone else saying those words, because I can’t remember ever saying
anything like that to anyone before.
“I am too.” It’s not exactly reassuring, but at least he’s honest.
“Can you feel for the call button?”
He lifts his hand from mine, and in my panic, I almost snatch it back before realizing he’s
doing exactly what I asked.
A second later, he says, “I pressed all of them.”
“All of them?”
I can practically feel him giving me that half smile, almost patronizing but not. “There are
only four buttons. Nothing happened.”
“Yes, I can see that nothing happened. What are we going to do now?”
“I’m going to try the door to see if we’re close to the nearest opening. Maybe I can climb
“No,” I hiss, fisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not climbing out. What if
the elevator falls while you’re halfway out, and you get cut in half? I’ll be left in here with half a
“That’s what would upset you most about that scenario?” he asks, almost amused but not
quite, like he’s working his way up to doing something heroic and stupid. No thank you, I’m
keeping ahold of that shirt.
“Your eyes staring blindly up at me from your severed torso? Yes.”
“Look on the bright side,” he says. He’s leaning down, so his voice is close to my ear,
rumbling through my body. I get that strange feeling again, like I’m both terrified and a little
turned on. “If I got chopped in half, you’d be left with my bottom half.”
“Great. A dick without a brain. You’d think I’d be used to that, but no thanks.”
He seems like he’s still intent on doing something dumb, so I tighten my hand on his shirt
and do something even dumber…
For more information about Angela Casella and her books, visit her website: