I tripped. Cameron caught me.
Now the media thinks we’re in love.
And I’m living in a penthouse with a man whose abs have their own fan club.
He’s broody. Charming. Unreasonably attractive.
I’m awkward. Witty. Accident-prone with a capital Whoops.
But he kisses me like he means it.
Now I dodge flying champagne corks and my dangerously growing crush.
This wasn’t part of the fake fiancé manual.
He’s playing the part a little too well…
And I might be one accidental “I do” away from becoming Mrs. Hayes.
