Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
But Asher’s my best friend too so we’ll get this annulled and laugh about this secret for years to come.
Trouble is our wedding pics went viral overnight.
Now everyone thinks we’re a real couple. We race back home, where I’ve just landed the big art commission of my dreams and he’s launching a sports charity so we need to look like we meant to tie the knot.
Easy enough. We’ll claim we’ve been secretly in love, while staying in separate rooms for the rest of the hockey season.
The last thing either one of us wants is to ruin a decade-long friendship by falling into bed again.
But I experience a new side of my husband at home. He cooks for me, encourages me…and buys me so many toys.
And, it’s more fun to share your toys with a friend.
We’re just enjoying temporary marital benefits.
Except, the more times he calls me his wife, the more I start to wonder if Asher was ever pretending?
And if my heart is ready to take the biggest risk of all.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
THE MARRIAGE PACT
Asher
Two Years Ago
“The thing about bad ideas is they usually seem like good ideas at the time.”
I take a planned pause from my best man speech to survey the sea of wedding guests. They’re relaxed here under the white tent, rumpled suit jackets and little purses slung over their chair backs as the sun dips below the Golden Gate Bridge behind us.
With a glass of award-winning champagne in hand, I stroll around the head table, flash a we knew better glance at the groom, then shoot a winning smile for the hundred-strong crowd. Time to bring this speech home for Beckett. He deserves the best toast ever, and I’m the one who can give it to him.
“Like, say, that final shot of tequila,” I say, with a curve in my lips. “Always seems like a good idea. But it’s pretty much the opposite.”
A collective groan echoes through the room. Yup. We’ve all been there and done that.
“Or, for instance, a homemade zip line,” I add, shaking my head in disbelief at the antics of our younger selves. I stage whisper into the mic, “College. The genesis of nearly all bad ideas.”
At the head table, the maid of honor—also known as the sister of the groom—laughs, then lifts a manicured hand in solidarity, her sparkly silver nail polish glinting in the soft light. “Can confirm it was the worst idea.”
“We were lucky you were there.” I nod toward the sometimes blonde, sometimes brunette. Maeve’s hair color seems to change with her mood. Tonight at her brother’s wedding, it’s chestnut brown and twisted in, well, some kind of twist, with golden-streaked tendrils framing her face. “After all, she’s the one who took us to the ER the night Beckett and I made a backyard ride out of rope eight years ago.” A handful of guests laugh lightly, and I add, “But the shoulder injury—so worth it.”
“Better your shoulder than mine,” the groom shouts.
“My coach disagreed, but I digress,” I say, then turn back to the audience, which is made up mostly of friends, but some family. Beckett’s family primarily consists of him and his sister, and it’s been that way since we met. I clear my throat, heading into the home stretch. “But luckily, it goes the other way, too, with good ideas. Like when Maeve said she wanted to set up her brother with a gallery manager she knew.” I gesture toward the bride, Reina, who smiles dotingly at my friend. “I thought it was a terrible plan. Especially since there was that little matter of Beckett refusing to go on a setup.”
Maeve smiles faux demurely, maybe a little wickedly. Kind of her specialty. “But we knew better,” she says proudly.
I shoot her a pointed look. “You knew better. Me? I told you setups never work.” I turn back to the guests. “But Maeve insisted, and I went along with her. She’s very clever. Very creative.”
“Very tricky,” Beckett says with a fake cough.
“You benefited from it,” Maeve says and gestures grandly to the evidence—the damn wedding.
“So we organized a game night. Invited…a bunch of friends.” I sketch air quotes since we invited exactly no one. “When Beckett arrived at my place, he looked around and asked where everyone else was. I said they were coming but we could get started, just the four of us. Spoiler alert: No one showed up but Reina, and during a vicious game of trivia where those two tried to one-up each other, Maeve and I slipped into the kitchen to refresh the snacks. And…” I gesture proudly to the newlyweds. “Here we are. Thanks to a fake-out from the maid of honor and the best man.”