Honeywood

The moment we meet, it's all downhill. My job is providing happiness and smiles at Honeywood Fun Park, and Emory Dawson is the frown our park didn't ask for. When our star roller coaster malfunctions with me on board, the manufacturer's heir and lead engineer, Emory, vows to renovate the attraction. So instead of having a fun summer season as Marketing Manager for Honeywood, I'm now saddled with playing host. Wonderful. Emory is the opposite of a good time. He's the grump that won't stop grumping, and our arguments escalate quicker than my heart rate after a roller coaster's fall. He knows I can see right through his broody gaze and big ideas. Repairing the coaster? More like overhauling his own company's reputation, regardless of whether it helps our local theme park. But when our firm handshakes start lingering too long, or when his muscled thighs rest against mine under the table, I'm thrown for a loop. Most roller coasters are fun, but I'd like to get off this emotional one, please.

Some fairytales may be real, but ours is strictly fiction. I've been Queen Bee at our theme park for ten glorious, uncomplicated years. I'm far better at creating fictional magic than real life miracles. So when Landon Arden, my best friend's twin brother and my old high school bully, starts to work at Honeywood, I'm wishing for some gift from above to fix this mess. Cue a worse situation. After Landon falls on stage during one of our shows, the guests mistake him for a character in the park: Ranger Randy. The problem isn't when our manager asks him to perform as the bearded, tight tush, short shorts-wearing hero. No, my fairytale comes crashing down when we're told that Queen Bee and Ranger Randy must appear as a couple. Fine. Whatever. Ten years ago, my teenage crush for Landon may have been real, but I can fake a happy ending with Ranger Randy. I can sign autographs with him, have his arm around my waist, hold his hand, and . . . kiss him on stage? I tell myself it's all for show. We're just characters in a theme park. And I won't fall for true love's kiss, even if I do want to try it one more time . . .

Sometimes, the best rides are unexpected. Orson Mackenzie didn't want a relationship. Perfect. Neither did I. But what started as a fun ride with no commitment turned into hitching our cars to the same train. Orson needed my insurance. I needed his tax break. So, we signed a piece of paper to make me his not-so blushing bride. Forever was never the destination. Until Orson unexpectedly changed course, and we found ourselves on different tracks. Now, it's seven months later, I've lost my apartment and, luckily for me, my husband still has a heart of gold. And a spare bedroom. I can move in with my fake husband, right? How hard can it be? Except I'm having a hard time overlooking how his eyes undress me and the way his voice rasps when he calls me sweetheart. And the more time we spend together, the more I see through his happy-go-lucky exterior. He needs someone in his corner, and for once, maybe I need someone in mine too. I shouldn't fall in love with my husband. But my heart might be thumping to the bumpy tune of forever.

The hardest part is waiting for the fall. I am currently in love with, have always been in love with, and will continue to be in love with, my best friend, Bennett Walker Shaw. In five minutes, my best friend's bride will greet him in a gorgeous white gown with forever on her lips. Except that bride won't be me. Moments like these force you to look at your life a little closer. At twelve-years-old, he and I promised to always be there for each other. But in our childlike optimism we didn't understand the frail, tattered string of time. How people change. How families fall apart. How sometimes we fall apart too. I could try to pinpoint where our mess started, but I'm not sure where I'd land in our patchwork timeline. Maybe it's best to go back to the beginning. Back to when the meaning of love was simply defined by a small town theme park and that beautiful, messy-haired boy.