A fake marriage with the billionaire next door seems simple. What's complicated is finding out I'm having his baby.
My inheritance comes with a cruel ultimatum - get a husband by my 25th birthday or lose everything.
Enter my billionaire next-door neighbor and (until now) strictly platonic best friend.
His solution: a temporary fake marriage.
I get my inheritance and he gets to feel like a hero. Perfect.
Except living under the same roof with those steely blue eyes and chiseled abs that melt panties is doing a number on our "just friends" policy.
Fake kisses feel real, and late-night talks turn into stolen moments that leave me breathless.
The lines blur, friendship morphing into something hotter, and definitely forbidden.
He’s soon warming my heart and my bed.
It's a delicious danger, a fast burn that threatens to consume everything.
But our deal has an expiration date. One year, and our fake marriage is supposed to end.
Now, two pink lines might change everything.
