You know that awkward moment when your lava-hot boss says “marry me?”
Not for love. Not for real. Not without a mammoth payoff.
Of course, this fortune comes with a ginormous snag—Ward Brandt.
Call me bananas.
I must be short of a full bushel rejecting Chicago’s finest billionaire.
Who knew he was my boss when he crashed my worst date ever?
Oh, but he found out.
He swore I wasn’t fit for Brandt Ideas, chewed me up, and spat me back out.
I vowed I’d prove him wrong—and sabotage a metric ton of his coffee.
Then tragedy strikes, upending his limitless ego.
Guess who needs an image makeover to shore up the family business.
Big fat hell no.
King Snarlypants has a peanut-sized heart and a chip on his shoulder bigger than a redwood.
Find another sucker, Ward-hole.
Even if I agreed, my shields are up.
No magnetic kisses. Zero butterflies. Nix the blushing when everyone gushes over what a “perfect couple” we’d be.
Then again…it’s just ninety days and mama needs a windfall.
What’s one little white wedding lie with a bossy grump built like a god?