Brewer Family

Breaking News: Rugby's bad boy marries his best friend's little sister If Renn Brewer would've asked me to marry him, I would've said no. Why? One, his reputation precedes him. His name is in the headlines at least once a month. Two, he's not just my brother's best friend. They're teammates. And three, I'm in my self-care era. Unfortunately, a version of me equates self-care with bad choices. The cocktail in my hand-similar to the one that got me into this situation-is the prettiest shade of pink. It's almost the same color as the giant rock on my left hand. And instead of discussing an annulment, I'm considering a 90-day marriage of convenience to the man I accidentally married in Las Vegas. Renn didn't propose marriage. But he does deliver a proposal I might be unable to turn down.

I hate Ripley Brewer. So, why am I cuddling on his lap, peering into his ocean-blue eyes while cameras record our every move? My best friend needs my help to save her career, and I would do anything for her. Besides, filming a reality show sounds fun … until Ripley shows up to play the role of my fake boyfriend. As always, we nearly come to blows within minutes of seeing each other. The playboy billionaire accuses me of a setup, but I insist I'd rather live in a world without carbs than spend a minute with him. At some point during the melee, we sign contracts. I can't stand the look of his six feet two inches of chiseled abs and broad shoulders. And I loathe his arrogance. But now that he's my pretend beau, I'm stuck acting like I'm falling in love with my biggest enemy. It turns out that Ripley's a good actor, too. Every soft touch on the small of my back makes my heart thump faster. His sultry smirk feels like it's only for me. I should detest every word that passes his kissable lips.

Crushes are harmless-unless they involve your best friend's grumpy, off-limits brother. Gannon Brewer is the epitome of my type. He's at least ten years older than me, emotionally unavailable, and highly disagreeable-a walking red flag in a tailored suit. But do I listen to that? No. In fact, when his office plants start dying, I convince myself that I can ignore the pheromones and save the philodendron. Now I'm in his office every week, dodging sinful smirks and heated stares, reminding myself to reach for the watering can-not him. But one "ivy incident" changes everything. Suddenly, we're sneaking around, indulging in a steamy, forbidden fling that's supposed to be nothing more than (a lot of) fun. After all, he swears he'll never fall in love. I assure him that I only want one thing, and it's not his heart. But the closer we get, the more lines we blur, and the harder it becomes to keep our promises … Especially when the secret I'm keeping threatens to shatter everything.

Someone should tell Tate Brewer that one-night stands aren't supposed to come with a sequel.I've learned the hard way-don't be reckless with anything, least of all my heart. But after one too many vodka sodas, saying yes to a much younger, devastatingly smooth stranger for one wild night seems like the perfect way to forget my brutal divorce. I even gave him a fake name. What could go wrong?You'd be surprised.Because instead of being my spicy little secret, Tate is now the chief marketing officer at my new job. He's determined to prove our night together was only the beginning-and he has the tools to do it.Chiseled jaw. Washboard abs. Effortless charm. He's as sinful as he is sweet and knows exactly how to get under my skin and melt my defenses.I wanted a one-night stand. Instead, I got a "situation."