I never felt truly desired by a man—until him.
The second he stepped foot into my small town Alaskan inn, his gaze swept over my curvy figure with desire, igniting a flame I thought was dead. He flirted with me, and I might’ve left two chocolates on his pillow at turndown, but that’s where it stayed.
Over the years, he’s floated in and out of town while a friendship developed between us. It’s probably for the best because I’m not a one-night stand kind of woman.
Which is funny because when he propositions me to be his fake fiancée in order to end a family feud, it turns out I am the kind of woman willing to pretend to be the one he’s in love with.