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Did they have to be so perfect?
It wasn’t until her knuckles under the gloves started to cramp that she realized how tight she was holding the wheel.
Courtney Freaking Watson.
The bane of Andrea's entire existence since a mere six months ago.
Courtney Watson brought out Andrea's dark, psychologically impaired nature, and she ended up writing a whole depraved chapter in her last book. Andrea’s editor had called her and immediately reminded her of the fact that she was a cozy, quirky mystery writer, and her readers would be horrified if they read chapter thirteen of an otherwise light, fluffy mystery in the small, made-up town of Deadchester Cove.
Her editor also had an issue with the character’s name. Well, Andrea refused to budge on that. Trecouny Tawnso stayed, but she did change the unaliving part to something more suitable for the book as a whole that would still give Andrea enough satisfaction.
Trecouny Tawso had the unfortunate luck of realizing she was suddenly allergic to berries, nuts, and flour while judging a pie competition at the town fair. Served her right.
She shook her head to clear it of all thoughts of Courtney Watson, also known as Trecouny Tawnso, and took a deep breath as she managed to rather badly park the limo, snagged the signpost she had made with their names printed on it from her Santa bag, and headed to arrivals.
Within a few minutes, she would be in their presence, and she didn’t like the way it made her skin feel, her heart, her legs and fingers, or every single part of her.
No, she had a job to do, and she wasn’t going to let Lindsay down.
Here goes nothing.
And there they were; just as she remembered them. Not because she was constantly thinking about them, absolutely not—she thought about them as often as she thought about Fermat’s Last Theorem or pintles and gudgeons—never. Okay, she was thinking about number theories and boats only because she was now staring them in the face.
All three of them.
Gosh, she’d forgotten how tall they were. How disgustingly annoyingly gorgeous each one of them was. Scratch that thought. How they looked didn’t matter as far as her mission was concerned. Besides, they seemed to like girls who were as perfect as they were. Tall, leggy, glassy skin, splendid hair, ridiculously smart, a law degree, a humanitarian, an heiress, a beauty queen.
Then they’ll have the cutest, most darling little babies on earth and live a fairytale happy ever after life.Barf.
It wasn’t until she felt hair on her tongue that she realized she had bitten so hard into her lip that she moved her fake mustache out of place.
Well, they could have their lovely, fairytale happy ever after. She didn’t care one bit.
Straightening her shoulders, she quickly realized she had to pretend to be a man, so she spread her legs apart and reminded herself that she needed to scratch her crotch at least once to seal the deal about her identity.
Chapter Three
What the fuck?
It took Leo Atwood and his adopted brothers, Aaron Prett and Micah Sewell, all of one single glance at the chauffeur—carrying a poster with their names printed on it—to know they were being duped... by their sister’s best friend, Andrea Dawson.
Fuck.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was supposed to be in Vermont with her parents for the holidays. They knew because they’d made her whereabouts their business, or how else were they going to avoid her at all costs?
They never gave her a second thought other than that she was Lindsay’s best friend until that day three years ago at a Christmas lunch at their adopted parents’ house.
She was twenty-one years old, and all it had taken was one glance at her for their whole lives to implode on the spot. Instantaneously and collectively.
They would never, in a billion years, have guessed they would all fall for the same woman at the same time, and yet when it happened, it seemed like the most-right thing in the world.
It was as if she sucker punched them in their fucking nuts and hearts at the same time. They weren’t unaccustomed to beautiful women—being billionaires meant they were offered the world’s most stunning beauties, but what Andrea Dawson did to them was what no other woman had done in all their existence. She took their control and stamped on it with the heel of her boots—the boots that were covered with maniacal-looking reindeer to match her awful sweater.
The thought of tossing Andrea over one of their shoulders and carrying her out right in front of both of their families, who had gathered for a Christmas lunch, became engraved in their minds.
The things they’d do to her took over, taking turns sucking her pussy, swallowing the honey of her wetness before they made her come so hard she soaked their faces and chests.
