Home is Where You Park It

He's a giant of a man who grunts for words and barks out orders, yet circumstances require I be his fake girlfriend and spend the weekend with him in an isolated cabin.

And of course there's only one bed. Just my luck . . .

But I need this commission check that only Boston can guarantee me. So I hike up the mountain 'til I can't feel my legs, eat questionable canned beans for sustenance, and vow to simply ignore him for two days. What I didn't count on was a freak blizzard to lock us in the cabin for a bit longer. I also didn't expect to discover that beneath all those muscles and long hair and smoldery looks, Boston has a soft heart and a sad past that makes me itch to fix it.

And of course we have to snuggle to preserve body heat. My luck is turning . . .

We find more—ahem—creative ways to pass the time, and holy snowstorm is Boston creative! We both know this charade ends when we get off the mountain, so we use our time together wisely.

Turns out there's one final twist: he's my best friend's estranged brother. Yep, my luck has officially run out . . .

Contains mature themes.

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Hljóðbók: 20 augusti 2024