Crashing Into Mr. Wrong

Im not one for holding grudges.

But when Vincent Forde, billionaire perfume tycoon, crashes his shiny overpriced car into mine?

Yeah, Im holding that grudge.

His flashy car, tailored suit, and brooding glare-everything about him screams entitled bosshole.

And then he acts like its my fault!

Seriously, who does this arrogant, sculpted devil think he is?

He covers the damages-but with a request that has me fuming-and I figure thats the last Ill ever see of Mr. Rich and Ridiculous.

Except, of course, its not.

Guess who struts into my stepbrothers engagement party like he owns the place?

Yeah, its Mr. Im-Too-Sexy-To-Drive-Properly, lounging by the bar like hes posing for GQ.

I think I hate him.

Only now, theres something he wants from me.

Theres a rare perfume ingredient he desperately needs.

And Lord of the Scowl is willing to pay me ridiculous money to help get it.

Oh and he also wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend.

As if theres anything remotely boyfriend-material about him.

This is a recipe for chaos. A perfect (mis)match.

Were like a car crash in slow motion. Sure, he revs up emotions Id rather keep in neutral, but Im not getting pulled in by that confident grin or those striking cheekbones.

Except... the more we pretend, the harder it is to remember its all fake.

And Im starting to wonder if Im the only one wishing it was real.