It’s the morning after her cousin’s bachelorette party in Vegas and Megan Scott wakes up with the mother of all hangovers. Even worse, she’s in a stranger’s penthouse having woken up with something else as well—a funny, arrogant, sexy…husband!
Up until now, finding even a boyfriend had seemed impossible—been there, got the broken heart, sworn off men for good. Then a few martinis with Carter…no, Connor Reed and she’s gone from first meet to marriage in one night!
Megan wants a lawyer. But Connor’s shocking bombshell?
“I don’t want a divorce.”
The story was well written and easy to read, with some stand out moments (one being the scene at the grocery store with Pete and immediately after at home with Connor) and some really good lines, like this one.
This guy had one of those slanted smiles going on. The kind so lazy only half of it bothered to go to work.
“If it’s not about love, then what?”
Connor gave her a satisfied grin. “All the vital components that make a relationship successful, without any of the emotional messiness to drag it down. It’s about respect, caring and commitment. Shared goals and compatible priorities. It’s about treating a marriage like a partnership instead of some romantic fantasy. It’s about two people liking each other.”
Connor’s definition also included fidelity and given that they had already demonstrated an abundance of passion between them, I was left thinking, well isn’t that love? And, why doesn’t he see that? He’s a smart guy. And then, he goes and contradicts himself, in order to convince her to give things a go.
“We’re good together, Megan. It’s not about glass slippers or fairy tales or love at any sight. It’s not about private schools or mutual goals or any of the other things we’ve talked about today. It’s about you and me fitting together. It’s about this feeling of rightness you told me about last night. The one I’ve had since I met you. And I keep seeing signs of it today. Tell me. Tell me you feel it too.
“WHAT IN THE HELL do you think you’re doing?” Megan demanded from the far side of the elevator where she stood, hands on hips, eyes boring into him like little embers of hell.
Connor snapped the picture from his phone then slipped the device back into his tux pocket before it ended up incinerated beneath his wife’s fiery glare, or more likely crushed beneath the spike of her sexy glass slipper.
“Documenting our first fight.”
For a moment, all the red-hot rage directed his way turned to utter shock, leaving her sputtering in a way he couldn’t deny he was getting a serious kick out of. But in a blink, she rocketed back to fury, leaning into the space between them, her voice going lethally low. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Come on, it’s something for the scrapbook. You’ll thank me later.”
“You know good and well I’m not talking about a picture.”
Yeah, he did. The way he knew taking a snap of her when she was this cranked up was probably a move just short of suicide, but like his decision to break his promise to her back in the club, it was one he wouldn’t regret.
Connor had to have her.
His wife didn’t flaunt it for everyone to see—thank God—but she was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
He was always telling Megan what was best for her, manipulating her into agreeing with him, putting himself and his desires first.