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A forced proximity menage
A failed marriage and an even worse divorce leave me nearly penniless.
What can I scrounge up?
Two spare bedrooms, the ability to learn from my mistakes, and a court case to clear my name.
Turning the extra space into a bed and breakfast, I fully intend to rebuild myself. By myself. No significant others. No trusting anyone but me.
The only people in my life will be the ones who sign a contract to rent my spare rooms for a few nights. Then they’re gone. Perfect.
When my first guests are a pair of hot-as-hell travel writers, I’m on my best behavior. They could be my lucky break…from the aspect of running a bed and breakfast…not because they make me all swoony. Definitely not that. But their gentlemanly ways, a busted water pipe, and a soaking wet t-shirt over sculpted pecs cause me to rethink what defines my best behavior.
Then one major decision too late, their story starts to unravel.
Have I risked giving my heart away too easily? Will I ever learn that Happily Ever Afters aren’t real?
