FLARE My own fashion label. The shiny new sign above the door means everything. My dream. My life. Worth every gruelling hour I've spent making it happen. Nothing can stop me now. Not the fear. Not the nightmares. Not my sad excuse for a love life. And certainly not Beckett Northcott, the sexy English professor who wouldn't know a fitted shirt if it slapped him in the face and who has flannel down to an art form. I don't date...