Anthony Carter has not had it easy in life. In a matter of months, he lost his mother to cancer along with his much coveted spot in a prestigious doctoral program. Swimming in debt, he's been forced to move back to his hometown in rural Montana and take whatever job he can find. A drunken weekend in Vegas is exactly what he needs to help him forget his problems.
A recent break-up with her boyfriend of nearly a decade has left straight-laced Liz Rockwell disillusioned with love and in desperate need of a vacation. She gets more than she bargained for when one drunken night at a Vegas bar results in her being married to Anthony. Embarrassed by her lapse in judgment, Liz is ready to make this whole night just go away. A quickie divorce seems like the best solution to their problem, until Anthony realizes who Liz really is.
Known in the media as the Candy Heiress, billionaire Liz is the answer to Anthony’s prayers. All he has to do is convince her to write him a check. Unfortunately, Liz is not one to be easily intimated or coerced. Discovering the Rockwell family secret may be Anthony’s only hope. But the more time he spends with the intelligent and tenacious Liz, the more he realizes their chapel wedding may not have been such a drunken mistake after all...
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Natalie can't sing. Or dance. Or play an instrument. She can't ride a bike and doesn't know how to swim or drive. As a result, her husband often asks "Are you sure you're not really from Mars?" (the answer, in case you were wondering, is no. Unless New York counts as another planet). When she's not geeking out at her day job, Natalie can be found attempting to wrangle her overly energetic Westie, baking ridiculously chewy chocolate chip cookies, and watching so-bad-it's-good reality television shows.
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“Now that you’ve fed me, tell me why you’re really here. How does this visit fit in with your master plan?”
“Master plan?” Anthony chuckled. “What master plan? I’m not a comic book villain, Liz. I’m not trying to take over the world or anything.”
“No, you’re just trying to squeeze money out of me. Quit trying to play me like I’m stupid. I know you’re up to something.”
Sitting back in his leather seat, the man had the nerve to look delighted, like he found this entire conversation incredibly entertaining. “If I did have a master plan, what makes you think I would tell you? The element of surprise would only work in my favor.”
The only acknowledgment I gave that statement was a roll of my eyes. “I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities. You’re either trying to charm me into writing you a check or attempting to get one of my relatives to do so, Robbie and my father being the leading suspects.”
Shaking his head, he laughed. Loudly. Like I’d suggested he was communing with ghosts or some equally ridiculous scenario. Crossing my arms, I scolded him. “So glad you’ve managed to find humor in this.”
“I’m sorry,” he managed to wheeze out between laughs. “You’re just so off base, it’s hysterical.”
Picking up a pea from my now cold lunch, I flung it at him. “Ass. Enlighten me then.”
“We’ve been over the whole sex thing. Neither one of us is interested.” That was a lie, of course. I was definitely more than interested and if the hard ridge of his jeans last night was anything to go by, so was he. I couldn’t call him out on it though. Our attraction was a fact we were both actively trying to ignore into oblivion.
Welcome to Denial City, population two.
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