MAKE-BELIEVE MATCH, an enemies-to-lovers, marriage-of-convenience, small-town romance from USA Today Bestselling Author, Melanie Harlow, is out now!
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If I’m not careful I could lose everything…my home, my dreams, and my heart.
Fall in love with my enemy? No way.
Marry him to save my family’s struggling ski resort? That’s a different story…
Getting hitched is the only way I can inherit Snowberry Lodge, and I’ll do anything to spare my childhood home from the wrecking ball-even wear Devlin Buckley’s ring on my finger.
Not that I’ll enjoy it.
Sure, he’s charming and handsome, and that no-last-names one night stand we shared ended with a fantastically big bang (I saw stars I hadn’t seen in six months, if you catch my drift).
But I’ll never trust him-he was working for the company trying to bulldoze my life.
Right up until the day he knocked on my door with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Marry him, and he’ll help me restore my family’s crumbling resort to its former glory-and get revenge on his ex-boss in the process. Once our goals are achieved, we’ll go our separate ways.
It’s temporary. Strictly business. Purely for show.
Until I realize how much I like it when he says “my wife.”
Once we’re sharing a last name-and a bed-our make-believe match starts to feel a little too real.
And if I’m not careful I could lose everything…my home, my dreams, and my heart.
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In the dark, I pictured him trying to stretch out on the couch, unable to extend his long legs all the way. The couch wasn’t that deep either. It was more for looks than comfort.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. This was stupid. The bed was enormous. We were married. It was obvious he wasn’t going to touch me without permission.
Which I was thinking about granting anyway.
“Devlin,” I whispered.
“You can sleep in the bed.”
“What?” Outraged, I bolted upright. “You’re turning me down?”
“I’m respecting the rules.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Sleep on the couch. I don’t care.” Flopping back again, I frowned into the darkness.
“I mean, if you want me to sleep in the bed with you . . .”
“Listen, I’m not the one who made the rules. I’m not the one who accused you of being a scam artist. I’m just a guy trying to prove he can be trusted, and getting into bed with you without being explicitly asked seems like looking for trouble.”
I sighed loudly, pitting my pride against the orgasms he’d given me the night we met.
It was not a fair fight.
“I’m asking you to sleep in the bed with me,” I said quietly.
“What’s that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
I clenched my teeth and spoke louder. “I’m asking you to sleep in the bed with me.”
“That’s better.” He got off the couch and walked around to the far side. “So how do you feel about my pants?”
“Yes. I seem to recall a rule about not undressing in front of each other. But I’d rather not sleep in my pants. Could you maybe close your eyes?”
“Just take them off,” I said irritably. “I don’t care.”
He slipped them off while I pretended I wasn’t watching, pretended my heart wasn’t pounding, pretended my lady bits weren’t tingling with anticipation. Then he climbed into the bed, pulling the covers to his waist.
I turned onto my side, facing him. I scooted a little closer to the center of the bed.
He stayed right where he was, lying on his back.
At this point, I was seething. “You’re going to stay all the way over there?”
“Seems prudent. Unless you’d like to break another rule.”
My pulse quickened. “Which one did you have in mind?”
“Well, if I move any closer to you, I’ll definitely be tempted to kiss you, and since that falls under the no-sex rule umbrella, I suppose that’s the one I was thinking about.”
I stretched out one leg. My toes found his calf. “What if I said we could break that rule?”
“Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. I mean, it does seem a bit silly,” I said, my arm snaking across the few inches of remaining space between us. When I felt his torso, I moved my hand over his abdomen. The muscles tensed beneath my palm. “We’ve already done it.”
“That’s true,” he said. “And we weren’t even married then.”
“Exactly.” I tucked myself along his side, slid my hand lower on his hip—and stopped. “Wait, you’re naked already?”
“You watched me take off my pants.”
“I know, but it was dark. I thought you had underwear on.”
“I like to sleep naked.” Suddenly he flipped me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my shoulders. His cock pressed into my hip, thick and hard. “Just so I’m clear—all rules are out the window?”
“All except one.”
“And which one is that?”
“The one about the end date for the marriage. That rule stays in place.” I didn’t want there to be any confusion about that.
“So you mean, we can essentially enjoy no-strings-attached sex for a few months while we save your family’s resort and fuck over my former company?”
“Well. You drive a hard bargain, Alexandra McIntyre, but I think I can agree to those terms.” He grinned. “Congratulations on closing the deal.”
“Alexandra Buckley. We’re married, remember?”
“That’s right.” He lowered his lips to my ear. “And I hope you’re not tired, because I plan on fucking my wife all night long.”
My entire body trembled. “You do?”
“Yes. But first, I’m going to get her naked, put my hands on every inch of her skin, and make her come with my tongue.” He sucked my earlobe into his mouth. “How does that sound?”
“That sounds amazing,” I panted.
“Good. Because you know what they say.” His lips hovered above mine. “Happy wife, happy life.”
About Melanie Harlow:
USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author Melanie Harlow writes sweet, sexy, feel-good romance. She likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. If she’s not writing or reading, she’s probably at Orangetheory or watching Schitt’s Creek again. She lifts her glass to readers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
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