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Livres de Kenzie Reed
We all have a list of our dream man’s ideal qualities – even if it’s just in our head.
And okay, mine might be written in swirly script, laminated, and used as a bookmark for my favorite Jane Austen novel.
You know what’s NOT on my list? Arrogant. Impatient. Distractingly sexy. In other words, mega-successful department store magnate Blake Hudson is everything I’m not looking for.
Unfortunately, I may have ruined his life a little bit when I got creative on my first day as a personal shopper. And unless I want to see my new career go up in flames, I’m stuck with the world’s smuggest billionaire until I fix everything I’ve broken.
Find the hottest toy of the season for an overindulged niece? On it. Pose as his date at his company’s annual gala, to fool his obsessed ex – and let him fake-flirt with me all night long? Uh oh, this could be trouble.
Let Blake see me safely home – and then let him make me see stars? Wait, that wasn’t on my list…
Doesn’t matter. Moving on. I will not let Blake Handsome – I mean Blake Hudson - defeat me with his To-Do List of Impossibility, or his pillow-soft lips, or his secretly tender heart, or the swell of his biceps, or…oops. I seem to have forgotten where I was going with this, but if I can’t remember, I’m shopping for nothing but heartbreak.
You can take the girl out of the south, but you can’t take the south out of the girl. That’s why Crash McClanahan is all wrong for me. The sexy, growly biker is just a big walking nope. Not going to happen. Never in a million years. Sure, his kisses are sweeter than iced tea in July. But I’m monograms and mimosas. He’s bar fights and beer. I never wear white after Labor Day. He never leaves the house without his leathers. You get the idea. But when my new life in New York is upended, and I have to go on the run, Crash is the only one who’s there for me. He’s the only one who has my back. He’s the only man who drives me so crazy I that I don't know if I want him to kiss me till I see stars, or hop on his bike and disappear in a cloud of road dust. I know he's all wrong for me, so why does being with him feel so right?
For the past three years I’ve called him boss.
So why is he telling everyone that he’s my boyfriend?
Working for Chase Lancaster was supposed to catapult my marketing career. Instead, I’m trapped in personal assistant hell. His hobbies include barking orders, torpedoing my advertising campaigns, and reducing the office staff to tears.
On a good day, he acts like I’m invisible. On a bad day, I remind myself arsenic is not an acceptable sweetener for coffee. And prison orange would be murder on my complexion.
Imagine my surprise when Chase follows me home to Bitter End, North Carolina, where I’m about to endure my ex-fiancé’s wedding.
The moment he chases off my date and offers to pose as my boyfriend, I know he's got a hidden agenda—especially when he plays the part a little too convincingly. Unfortunately, I have to play along to find out what he’s really up to.
To satisfy the town gossip squad, I’ll have to let him kiss me. Who knew Satan’s lips were so soft and inviting? And if we’re really playing the part, we’ll have to go to Lover’s Lane – testing my willpower beyond its limits.
The more time we spend together outside the office, though, the more I see a different side of him. He’s still bossy and demanding, but is it wrong that I find it kind of, well … hot?
This wedding is bound to be hell, so I might as well spend it in the arms of a sexy devil.
The contract says I have to get fake-married to a Witlocke. It doesn't say which Witlocke. Apparently, any stuck-up jerk whose last name begins with W and ends with E will do. Oops, was that my out loud voice? Enter my nemesis, sinfully sexy tech mogul Donovan. We’ve been mortal enemies since third grade, but he’s all too willing to meet me at the altar, for reasons he refuses to share with me. Whatever he's planning for me, it can’t be good. The last time I saw him is when my family let loose a bunch of attack geese at his sister’s wedding. And he’s only gotten hotter – and grumpier - since then. Deep breaths. I can do this. Sign on the dotted line, and I’ll save my aunt’s vineyard. We just have to stay married until the end of the summer. But a lot can happen in a summer. A dropped towel can lead to unexpected consequences. Snarky sparring can end in steamy kissing. Hidden truths can be revealed under an ancient oak tree. Hearts can melt. And someone can fall in love with the last man on earth who’d want ‘forever’. Wait, that wasn’t in the contract…
We’ve all heard about the public image consultant brought in to fix the bad boy’s image. That’s not me.
Nope, quite the opposite. I’ve been hired—well, blackmailed is more like it—to be a bad influence on grumpy, gorgeous, humor-deprived billionaire Elliott Bradford. He’s just become the public face of his family’s company, Bradford Amusement Parks. Problem: The board is about to kick him to the curb because they think Elliott wouldn’t recognize fun if it bit him in the as… spiration.
And they’re not wrong. I can’t believe I have to spend the next three months trying to coax a smile out of Jerk-in-a-Box. But if I fail, my secret shenanigans will be brought to light and my parents will pay the price. Again.
So here I am, getting stuck on top of a midnight roller coaster ride with him… and letting him kiss my panic attack away. Signing us up for a mud run… and letting him wash the mud out of my hair in the shower… Yes, I’m that dedicated to my job.
But the more I get to know broody Elliott, the more I think there might actually be a beating heart hiding underneath that navy double-breasted jacket. And the closer I get to the end of my assignment, the more I want to be the girl who can make him smile for real.
Running away from a disaster of a divorce? Starting my life over from scratch? My friends and family have ideas.
Open an artist’s’ colony on a beautiful coastal island, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. “They” haven’t met Sawyer Hendricks, the gorgeous, growly celebrity chef who claims he owns the dream hotel that I just inherited.
“They” haven’t been terrorized by a flock of foul-mouthed feral parrots. “They” haven’t run smack up against a cranky gang of geriatric islanders who will stop at nothing to ensure that life on Rocky Shoals never changes. "They" haven't surprised Sawyer in his birthday suit in the foyer of what should be an empty mansion.
Then again, “they” haven’t experienced what it feels like to be kissed by a man who has a Ph.D. in giving lip service. “They” haven’t been spoon fed tira misu by moonlight.
So, maybe “they” are on to something after all…or maybe this whole escapade is just a recipe for disaster.
I’ve got plenty of reasons to hate Sebastian Monroe, the sexy lead singer of Heat Lightning. 1.) He doesn’t remember our soul-scorching kiss ten years ago. 2.) He very rudely refused to play at my home town’s 300th anniversary celebration. And 3.) He’s a hotel trashing, arrogant, hot mess. Really hot. Sooo hot...
Turns out, though, that I’ve got something he needs: the ability to mend his tattered reputation. He needs a fake fiancée, to make people think he’s left behind his hell-raising ways. And I’m willing to play nice to get what I want — a hometown appearance of America’s hottest Southern rock band.
And now that I’m pretending to be his fiancée, I’ve got plenty of reasons to love Sebastian Monroe: 1.) Turns out he’s just as good a kisser as he always was. 2.) He’s hiding a big secret and a kinder heart than anyone gives him credit for. And 3.) Our little act is starting to feel just as real off-stage as on.