One One-night stand. One fake wedding. And one absolutely real positive pregnancy test.
Ryder West, billionaire and incidentally the most attractive man in the world, and I have a one-night stand. So far, so simple.
But three months and one positive pregnancy test later, we meet again and collide violently. So violently that I bake him a cake out of pure rage, only to smash it right in his face during a meeting.
I expected an outburst of anger from him, or an army of security to escort me out. But instead, he makes me an offer. I'm to play his wife for six months, for three million dollars.
The problem if I refuse? Without that money, my family's restaurant is history.
The problem if I accept? I have to convincingly assure my very conservative family and the rest of the world that this whirlwind wedding is the real deal.
My pride says no. But my hormone-ravaged body remembers every single detail of that one night, even though my head is desperately trying to forget it.
Ryder West is stone-cold, calculating, and the last man on earth I should get involved with.
But when he looks at me as if he knows exactly what's going on in my head, and my whole body obeys when he whispers things in my ear... then sometimes I wonder if the coldness in his eyes isn't just a wall.
Six months. No feelings. That was the deal.
Too bad I'm a Russo. And Russos fall in love with everything they've got.
Ryder West, billionaire and incidentally the most attractive man in the world, and I have a one-night stand. So far, so simple.
But three months and one positive pregnancy test later, we meet again and collide violently. So violently that I bake him a cake out of pure rage, only to smash it right in his face during a meeting.
I expected an outburst of anger from him, or an army of security to escort me out. But instead, he makes me an offer. I'm to play his wife for six months, for three million dollars.
The problem if I refuse? Without that money, my family's restaurant is history.
The problem if I accept? I have to convincingly assure my very conservative family and the rest of the world that this whirlwind wedding is the real deal.
My pride says no. But my hormone-ravaged body remembers every single detail of that one night, even though my head is desperately trying to forget it.
Ryder West is stone-cold, calculating, and the last man on earth I should get involved with.
But when he looks at me as if he knows exactly what's going on in my head, and my whole body obeys when he whispers things in my ear... then sometimes I wonder if the coldness in his eyes isn't just a wall.
Six months. No feelings. That was the deal.
Too bad I'm a Russo. And Russos fall in love with everything they've got.
Used availability for Lana Stone's Burning for my Boss