Fake marry the smokin’ hot NFL quarterback who dumped me in high school? Hard pass.
…Or it would be, if my Hollywood disaster of an ex-fiancé wasn’t trying to destroy my career—and bankrupt me in the process.
Cue Presley Lowe.
Big-time quarterback. Bigger ego. Even bigger contract.
The boy who shattered my heart, then dared to somehow get even hotter with age.
He says a fake marriage will solve both our problems.
I say he’s lost his mind.
But I’m broke, backed into a corner, and out of options.
So now I’m wearing Presley’s ring, taking couple-selfies, and sleeping one wall away from the man who gave me my first heartbreak—and my last good kiss.
I pretend not to notice when he walks around shirtless.
He pretends he doesn’t remember exactly how I like to be kissed.
We’re both lying.
But it’s all temporary. Totally fake.
Right?
So why does every look he gives me scream mine?
And why am I starting to feel like there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to keep hearing him say, my wife?
What happens when your fake husband is also the boy you never got over?
