A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

I lean forward, elbows on my thighs, one step away from the classic head-between-the-knees position to prevent fainting. Clearing my throat, I ask, “To sum up, my options are…?” The immigration lawyer, with his wispy comb-over and a stain on the center of his baby-blue tie, gives me a tight smile. A pitying one. Which is all I need to know. I drop my head into my hands with a soft groan. “I’m afraid you’re out of options,” he says. “You’ll need to return to Canada at the end of the month or risk deportation and a much bigger issue. That is, unless you were planning to get married in the next thirty days.” He laughs. I don’t. Malik, the Appies’ manager sitting to my right, doesn’t. And Grant, the no-nonsense team lawyer in his crisp black suit and stain-free tie, absolutely doesn’t. Deported. Married. DEPORTED. MARRIED. Breathe, Hop, I tell myself. Easier said than done. I wonder how likely it is that this guy keeps a stock of paper bags in his desk for situations just such as this. Grant glares at the immigration lawyer, whose very unfortunate and very unlawyerly name is Mr. Pebbles. “You, of all people, know getting married solely for immigration purposes is considered fraud.” Mr. Pebbles holds up both hands like he didn’t just suggest—or joke about?—this exact thing. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, which doesn’t even make sense in this context. Is this really the best immigration lawyer Grant could find to consult? Maybe in the small town of Harvest Hollow, yes. Bu...