what sandra thinks

when we met. reflection.

I am a total bitch because I’m just going to say this:
I really don’t love any of the a to z graphics.

As I’m sure you are dying to know, here are my thoughts on this year’s a to z challenge.

Traffic
I had about the same total views this April as I did last April. I didn’t expect an increase because I hadn’t been blogging as actively/regularly during the months between Aprils.

My heaviest traffic day was April 19, the day I posted p/phone, but my most liked post was c/crush, which was also the one with the most comments. Maybe people like a fun, flirty high school romance. I’ll have to revisit that.

Theme
I loved my theme this year. I think it may be my favorite of all seven years, followed by 2018 Dear Diary. I guess I like my fiction themes. And again, as I mentioned in my theme reveal post, thank you to Jayden (jrvincente) who gave me the idea for this year’s theme.

Everything else
I probably don’t need to tell you that one of the best parts of this year’s challenge was the extensive research I did to find the perfect image (or as close as I could get to perfect) for each letter. I even fell in love.

I mean, seriously, is this guy even human?
(Simone Bredariol, as if you didn’t know by now.)

I also spent an insane amount of time coming up with names for all of my characters. I made a spreadsheet so I didn’t accidentally use the same name twice. (I know. A fucking spreadsheet. I am such a nerd.)

I wish I could develop every single one of my posts into a full story. I suppose that could be a goal, but I’d be setting myself up for failure. I’m having trouble coming up with entire plots which is the reason this theme came to be in the first place.

My top ten
(in alphabetical order because I can’t decide which is actually my favorite)
c/crush
e/elevator
i/inheritance
l/locker room
m/mechanic
p/phone
t/toddler
u/upset
v/vacation
w/wedding

Fun facts
I wrote the last post, z/zipper, first. I wrote x/x-ray last.

My favorite names I used are Enzo (from m/mechanic) and Delaney (from v/vacation).

If you made me choose my favorite picture from the whole month, after I finished cursing you for making me pick only one, I would choose this one from m/mechanic.

I want to lick his… arm. For starters.

I now have 332 pictures of Simone Bredariol on my laptop. Excessive, I know. Let’s not talk about it.

I have no idea what I’m going to post now that this challenge is over. I feel like I need a push, like the challenge I made up in February and this one that I just finished. Failing that, I will probably fall into posting about my life struggles again, and I don’t think anyone wants that. However, I have pretty much no support system, so I come here.

• • •

If you missed any of my a to z posts or want to read them again, you can go to the top menu and select a-to-z challenge, then a-to-z challenge 2022. Or click here. The list will come up in reverse order, but you don’t have to read them in order so that doesn’t matter.

I could post a list of links for all of the letters (even though I’ve linked twelve of them already in this post). If you really want that, let me know and I’ll do it. Because I’m a people pleaser. But not for people I don’t like. So I guess I’m not much of a people pleaser. You know, because I hate people. But not you. You’re the best kind of people.

—♥—

And we return to ‘hot guy at the end of every post’.
Even though this post has already been heated up repeatedly by my favorite Italian. 

p.s. — Do you think anyone would notice if I ran off to Italy and never returned?

Every hot guy in this post: delicious Italian model Simone Bredariol

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. z/zipper.

“I don’t know why you’re making me try on this dress, Paige,” I said from inside the dressing room. “It’s far too revealing. When am I ever going to wear this?”

She didn’t answer, but I knew she was standing there rolling her eyes at me. I sighed and pulled on the little black dress. When I saw my reflection, I smiled. Paige was right—it was beautiful. And it looked good on me. But I still didn’t know when I’d ever wear it.

“Paige?” I called to her. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

I opened the dressing room door and gasped at the man who stood before me. Intense eyes. A breathtaking smile. Perfect hair—just long enough to be a bit messy and entirely sexy. And he looked like he’d just run his fingers through it. He was tall and lean and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“I’m not Paige,” he said, “but I’d be happy to help you with the zipper.”

—♥—

p.s. — Please pretend the lovely couple above is in a fancy department store dressing room. Also, since you cannot really see the face of Mr. Unknown Hot Guy, I will supply a random picture of another hot guy.

Why yes, my sexy Italian, I would love to join you in your nice cozy bed.

p.p.s. — I hate that my last a-to-z post is so short. I tried to make it longer, but everything I added felt like useless filler. 

Hot guy zipping (or unzipping?) her dress: Unknown man who is totally is my type. (I have a type. Surely you’ve noticed.)
Bonus Hot guy: I’ll give you one guess. Right! My favorite model, the perfect Italian, Simone Bredariol. (It had to be done.) (Did I mention I found a video of him? Speaking? English with a sexy-as-fuck Italian accent? I almost had a heart attack. Sexiness overload.) 

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. y/yellow.

I was about to turn the lock when I saw him through the glass door. He was at least six-foot-four, and he was dreamy. He had an almost apologetic look on his gorgeous face. He knew I was closing the shop, but I couldn’t refuse him. With a smile, I opened the door and let him in.

“I’m so sorry. I know you’re closing.”

“It’s okay. How can I help you?” I couldn’t imagine refusing him anything.

“I need flowers.” He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. It was endearing. “Of course I need flowers. I’m in a flower shop.”

I couldn’t hide my smile. He was flustered. And adorable (if a six-foot-four sexy-as-hell man can be adorable). “Are you looking for something specific?” I asked as I led him further into the shop.

“Her favorite color is yellow.” Her. Of course he had a wife. Or a girlfriend.

“I’ll be right back,” I said with a smile. I collected a lovely assortment of flowers—yellows and whites—and added a few greens. When I turned back to him, I caught him staring at me. “Is this okay?”

“Beautiful.” But when he spoke that word, he barely looked at the flowers. His eyes were on me. And he made me blush.

I walked over to the counter and wrapped the flowers. “I’m sure your wife will love them,” I said. Was I being a bit obvious? Maybe. Did I care? No.

“I’m not married.” He smiled. “They’re for my mother.”

Oh my god. Flowers for his mother. How sweet.

“Well, she’ll love them.” I smiled, too. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I think so. What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink. Do you need more flowers?”

“I do. Pink ones.”

God, his smile made me weak. I nodded and pulled together more flowers, this time pink ones. When I returned to him, he looked at the flowers for a moment before lifting his eyes back to mine. “That’s perfect. Do you have a card I can write a note on?”

“Of course.” I handed him one. He took a pen from the counter and wrote on the card. He tucked it into the pink flowers.

After he paid me, he picked up both bouquets. He handed the pink one to me.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“No. Those are for you.”

“What?” I was confused. And blushing again. He only smiled. “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

Once he was gone, I looked into the bouquet of pink flowers and pulled out the card he had tucked into the bunch.

Flower girl,
Your smile made my day.
Go on a date with me?
Call me.
-Miles 333-555-6789

—♥—

p.s. — I am really sad that this month is almost over. At least I have dozens (and dozens) (and dozens) of hot guy pictures in my “research” files now. 

p.p.s. — Please pretend above hot guy is inside a flower shop. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a picture of a hot guy buying flowers in a flower shop? Very! I’ve been looking all month. (Poor, poor me.)

Hot guy: Spanish model Jon Kortajarena (psst—photo edited to make flowers pink) (psst—isn’t he gorgeous?)

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. x/x-ray.

“Exam room four is next, Dr. Nichols.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

The day felt like it had gone on forever. I was exhausted. I was covering for another doctor, and I’d been in the ER for over twenty-four hours. I was grateful that this would be my last patient. I desperately needed sleep.

I pulled up the patient file and read the screen in front of me as I walked into the exam room. Without looking up, I began speaking. “Hello, Mr. Davies. I’m Dr. Nichols.”

“Ian.” He said. Only when I heard his voice did I make eye contact. I knew I was overtired, so it didn’t surprise me that my mind conjured up the sexiest man on earth. He looked like one of the cover models on the steamy books I enjoyed so much.

I blinked a few times in an attempt to break out of my exhaustion-induced hallucination. It didn’t work. He was real. And he was smiling at me. Fuck. Did he know I was momentarily speechless? I was probably blushing. Oh God. I took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“Ian.” I had to collect myself. “Your x-ray is clear. No broken ribs. But I should take a look. Could you remove your shirt?”

He reached behind his neck and grabbed his tee shirt, pulling it off in one quick motion. It was fucking hot. And so was he. Jesus. His arms, his chest, his abs. Oh crap. I’m staring. And this time, I’m certain I’m blushing. When my eyes returned to his, he was smiling again.

I was about to ask him to lie back when he spoke softly. “Your turn.”

It took me a second to realize what he meant. My turn. To take off my shirt. Oh damn. I was completely flustered and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nichols. That was inappropriate.” Still he smiled. And I couldn’t hide my own smile.

“It’s alright.” I took a moment to focus. “Could you lie back for me?” Oh god. That came out wrong, didn’t it? Maybe just in my head because the next words on the tip of my tongue were, “so I can climb on top of you.”

He lay down and lifted an arm up, resting his head on it. I really needed to stop gawking.

“Show me where the pain is.”

I watched his fingers as he ran them over a few of his ribs.

“How did you get hurt?” I could have read the details in his file, but I wanted to listen to him talk. So unprofessional. I reached over and touched him. His skin felt hot and I was sure I was trembling. Oh my god. Get a grip, Vanessa!

“I was in a fight.” My hands froze, and I looked back at his eyes with concern. But he was smiling. “My brothers and I… we mess around whenever we’re all together. Sometimes we… take it a little too far.”

I smiled, holding back a laugh, and continued using my fingers to put pressure along his ribs.

“My mom hates it,” he added.

“I’m sure she does.” I looked at him for a moment, still smiling, before turning back to watch my fingers on his ribs. “Did you get a knee in your ribs or something like that?”

“Yes, something exactly like that.” We were silent for a moment until I pushed the exact spot where his pain was. “Right there, Dr. Nichols.”

Oh. Why did he have to say my name like that? You’re a professional, Vanessa. Keep it together.

I finally took my hands from him. “You can sit up, Ian.” He did. “I want you to ice the area for fifteen to twenty minutes at a time. After a few days, you can alternate ice with heat. Advil for pain, if you need it. If you get worse, give your doctor a call.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

As Ian put his tee shirt back on, I tried not to look disappointed, but the devious smile on his face told me that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I turned away and pulled the curtain aside. When I did, Maria approached. “Mr. Davies is all set, Maria.”

“You must be so happy your extra shift is finally over,” Maria said.

“Very happy.” When Maria walked away, I turned back to Ian. “I hope you feel better.”

He smiled and took a few steps toward me. He was close. So close. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re finished here for the day?”

“I am.”

“Do you have plans?”

“Just sleep.”

“Would you like to have a drink with me, Dr. Nichols?”

“Vanessa,” I said with a smile. “I am no longer your doctor.” I paused for a moment. “But I think you need to ice your ribs. You should go home.”

“Okay. But I think you’d better come along to make sure I ice my injury properly.”

“Oh, you think so?” I teased.

“I do…”

—♥—

p.s. — The man in the photo—he *is* one of the cover models on the steamy books I enjoy. (My Favorite Souvenir and The Naked Truth) And I bet you can guess who he is. Yes, the most attractive man on earth.

p.p.s. — I know that picture is bordering on indecent. Sorry. Like, sorry if it’s too close to indecent, or sorry if it’s not more indecent. Take your pick. 

Hot guy: Italian model Simone Bredariol (Seriously—I am madly in love with this man.)

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. w/wedding.

When Violet reached the end of the aisle and looked into Noah’s eyes, she saw it all. His love… his hope… his happiness. It was perfect. Or it should have been.

With her heart pounding and her hands trembling, she could barely hear the minister’s words—until he asked her the ultimate question. “Do you, Violet McKenna, take Noah Clarke to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, until death do you part?”

Violet stared at the minister for a moment before turning to Noah’s expectant gaze. She parted her lips to speak but no sound came out. With a deep breath, she tried again. But instead of “I do,” she said something else.

“I can’t do this.”

She dropped Noah’s hands and ran. She ran until she reached the valet. Shocked to see the bride standing before him, he looked at her but didn’t speak. Violet was focused on one thing—getting away from the wedding. Her wedding. She looked at the keys behind him and recognized the unmistakable Batman keychain holding her friend Andy’s keys. He’ll forgive me, she told herself as she grabbed his keys.

Relieved to be racing away in Andy’s car, Violet had no idea where she was going. She drove until she couldn’t drive any longer. The car was running out of gas, and she was exhausted. She pulled off the road. As she drove into a town she’d never heard of, the car started slowing on its own. She managed to pull over to the curb just as the car ran out of gas.

She had no idea what to do. She had no phone, no clothes, no money, and no ride. She had nowhere to go. Desperate, she rifled through Andy’s glove box and found a total of five dollars. “Dammit, Andy! Five dollars! What the hell am I going to do?” She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and sighed. After a few deep breaths that were supposed to calm her (they didn’t), she looked up and saw a diner across the street.

When she walked in, all eyes turned to her. Of course they did. She was in a wedding gown. She sat at the counter, staring down at her hands until a voice interrupted her racing thoughts.

“What can I get you?”

She held in a gasp when she looked up and met the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen. And those eyes belonged to quite possibly the most gorgeous man on earth. Messy hair, a few day’s worth of stubble, strong arms, and what she could tell was a perfectly sculpted chest under his shirt.

“H… Hi.”

He smiled. And she melted. When she didn’t speak, he reached for a mug. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

After pouring her a cup, he met her eyes again. “Anything else?”

She wanted to say, “you“, but she didn’t. Although she could feel her face flush red anyway. “I only have five dollars.”

“You look like you’ve had a hell of a day. It’s on me. How about a slice of pie?”

“Thank you… um…?” She looked at him, waiting for a name.

“Hunter.”

“Thank you, Hunter.” She smiled.

“You’re welcome…?”

“Violet.”

“Violet,” he repeated with another devastating smile.

This, Violet thought unable to take her eyes off Hunter’s, this is the feeling that was missing with Noah.

—♥—

p.s. — I had to include two pictures. (Had to.) You can’t see his gorgeous face in the second one, where, while I truly have no idea what he’s doing, we’ll pretend he’s pouring coffee. Look at those arms. Damn.

Hot guy: Brazilian model Rafael Lazzini (I’d love to drink his coffee. Or whatever he wants to serve me.)

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. v/vacation.

Evie and I planned our vacation a few months ago. We’d rented a cabin and couldn’t wait to escape for a week, but then Evie broke her ankle. She wouldn’t let me cancel. Somehow, she convinced me to go without her.

The cabin was beautiful—better than the photos I’d seen online. The look was rustic, but the amenities modern. I dropped my bags into one of the two bedrooms and wandered around the place. I took the stairs up to a cozy loft space with two big soft chairs and a fuzzy rug underfoot. I plopped down in one of the chairs and looked out the giant window.

I closed my eyes for a moment, but clearly I was more exhausted than I thought because when I opened my eyes, it had gotten dark. How long was I asleep? I got up from the chair, but before I took even one step down the stairs, I heard the cabin door open.

Who the hell is that? Oh my God. This is it. I’m going to be murdered. I can feel it. I turned and looked around for something I could use as a weapon, but it was dark. I couldn’t see very well. The only thing less soft than a pillow was the lamp on the small table in the corner. I quietly pulled the plug and took the lamp down the stairs with me.

Mistake.

Two steps from the bottom, I saw a figure moving and I panicked. I didn’t notice that the lamp cord had gotten twisted around my legs. When I attempted to take the last step, I tripped and fell right into warm arms and a hard chest. I froze for a moment before I remembered that I could very well be in the arms of my murderer.

I shook myself out of his arms, regaining my footing.

“Stay back!” I held the lamp up over my shoulder.

He retreated and I got my first look at him. He was intimidatingly tall, but so damn attractive. His messy hair flopped over his forehead, and his face was covered in exactly the right amount of stubble. I’m going to be murdered by Adonis. Great.

He held his arms up, palms forward in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what my murderer would say just before he killed me.”

He smiled, letting out a subtle little laugh. Is it fucked up that I thought my murderer had a sexy laugh? “Why don’t you put the lamp down?”

I cautiously lowered the lamp, but still held onto it. “Who are you? What are you doing in my cabin?”

“Your cabin? This is my cabin.”

“No, it’s mine,” I insisted. “It’s rented for the week.”

“Yes. By me.” He reached for his pocket, and when he did, I lifted the lamp again. “Whoa! I’m just going for my phone.” He pulled up the reservation on his phone and held it toward me. He did indeed have the cabin rented for the week.

“There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I also have a confirmed reservation for this week.”

“Do you think you could put the lamp down now?”

I nodded.

“I’ll make a call,” he said. I watched him as I listened to his half of the conversation. It didn’t sound promising. “Double reservation? …Nothing? …Oh, really? …Okay. We’ll work something out. Thanks anyway.” He looked at me. “So, here’s the thing. There are no other cabins available.”

“Oh. What do we do now?”

“I think introductions would be a good place to start.” He extended a hand. “Josh Cameron.”

I took his hand, noticing how small mine looked in his grasp. “Delaney Hill.”

“Could we agree that I’m not a murderer?” He smiled, still holding my hand.

“I suppose we can.” I found myself smiling, too. Finally, he released my hand. I sighed and walked over to the couch. I curled into the corner and looked at him. He followed, sitting at the other end, facing me. “Josh, I think we’re going to have to share,” I suggested cautiously.

“I’m fine with that if you are. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He stared at me for a moment, noticing the trace of fear still on my face. “Still not a murderer, Delaney.”

I finally relaxed. Well, as much as one can relax while sharing a couch with Adonis. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Again, he flashed that sexy smile. “I think we’re going to have a good week.”

“Me, too, Josh.”

“What should we do first?”

—♥—

p.s. — I think it’s time for a vacation. I’m going to pack.

Hot guy: American model John Jamieson (JJ) Michaels (with whom I’d be happy to take a vacation)

©2022 what sandra thinks

when we met. u/upset.

I’d never gone to a bar by myself. I always had a friend or I had Aiden. We’d been together for two years. Tonight was our anniversary, but I was alone in a bar. I should have been celebrating with him, but our plans went up in flames when I went to his apartment after getting out of work early this afternoon.

I had a key so I let myself in like I always did. I heard sounds coming from Aiden’s bedroom. When I reached the doorway, I covered my mouth with my hand as I gasped.

“Aiden?!” I was so upset that I felt my heart pounding and my fists clenching.

Aiden jumped out of bed, stark naked, leaving his bedmate behind. He walked to me and reached toward me but, I took a step back. “Tessa, I swear I didn’t plan this. Layla and I have been working together for a long time. It just… happened. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I lifted a hand and stopped him.

“No. Forget it. I don’t want to know.” I turned and ran out of his apartment. I heard him calling after me, but I didn’t stop. I had to get away from him.

That’s how I ended up at a bar alone.

I was staring into my glass of wine, running my finger around the rim trying to keep my tears at bay when I felt someone beside me. The only way to explain the level of gorgeous I found standing near me is to say that for a moment, I forgot why I was upset.

Our eyes connected, and he extended a hand to me. “Hi. I’m Walker.”

I took his hand. His big, warm, strong hand. “Tessa.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I asked, though I was sure my mood was written all over my face.

“Just a hunch.” He waited but I didn’t say anything. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger…”

I smiled, which surprised me. “I’m supposed to be with my boyfriend tonight. It’s our anniversary.”

“Where is he?”

“Probably still in bed with the woman I found him with this afternoon.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“No. But I know how you feel.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. The same way I felt last week. When I caught my ex in bed with another guy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.” He teased me, tossing my own words back at me. He made me smile—again.

“Thanks, Walker. I didn’t think I’d be smiling tonight.”

He smiled, too. “Happy to help.”

I sighed. “I think I’m still in shock. I never thought Aiden would do anything like this.”

“Did you say Aiden?”

“Yeah…”

“Aiden Mitchell?”

“Yes…” How could he know Aiden’s last name?

“Fuck.”

“What?” As I waited for him to answer, I had an unsettling suspicion. “Oh no… What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected me. “Layla.”

“Fuck.”

“What are the chances?” he asked with barely a trace of humor. But his expression changed quickly. “Is it bad that I want to get back at them?”

“If it is, I’m bad, too.” I took a sip of my wine. “You know what we have to do, right?” I asked. This time, I made him smile.

“I think I do.” He took my hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Tessa, will you be my fake girlfriend?”

“I will.”

Little did I know how real it would turn out to be.

—♥—

p.s. — Who says revenge isn’t totally worth it??

Hot guy: Italian model Simone Bredariol (I know… I know… my addiction to this man may be bordering on unhealthy.) (Also, that picture is my current phone wallpaper.)

©2022 what sandra thinks