Women love to gamble. They get married, don’t they?
I’m a PR fanatic. A Vegas marketing machine. Forget Elvis—I am the King. Sixty hour work weeks got me where I am. The cost? I’ve never found my Mrs. King. Now my mother has delivered a stinging ultimatum. Show up in California with a plan for your future, or lose the family home you grew up in. She’s not selling my home, either. She’s gifting it to my awful cousin, Wesley. Over my dead body.
My mother isn’t playing around and no matter how I try to spin it, the fact remains. I need a wife.
I’m a champion fundraiser. A problem-solving machine. Forget empathy—the women I help need cash. They need a roof over their head, furniture, clothing, and job opportunities. My whole life is wrapped up in my work and I’m destined to die an old—but dedicated—spinster. I’ve never come close to finding ‘the one’, so when Kingston Myer needs a wife, I know just what to ask for in return.
I’ll do anything to raise funds to help desperate women, even if that means marrying a stranger, but no matter how I try to hide it, the fact remains. I’m falling for him.
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