No sex.

No make-out sessions.
One good kisser and Isla is done for.

No heavy petting.
One brush anywhere near her nether regions and she might as well rip this whole thing up.

Dating is allowed.
If she wants to torture herself.

Masturbation is okay.
Under controlled circumstances.

No sex!

No Sex!

NO SEX!

Two bottles of wine. One disastrous third date. And a best friend who’s officially tired of hearing about Isla’s terrible taste in men.

After yet another romantic catastrophe, Isla Monroe finds herself face-first in the couch while Arie delivers the intervention she’s needed for years.

Maybe the problem isn’t love.

Maybe it’s who she’s been chasing.

How is she supposed to just… stop?

It’s all she’s ever known.

And now that her life feels as if it’s on the brink of romantic collapse, maybe it is time she takes a step back.

Delete all the dating apps.

No more swiping right more than left.

No more lackluster texts. No more ghosting. No more bad dates dressed up as possibilities.

It’s time to do something about this.