Falling for Your Fake Fiancé (Love Clichés, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Reason #2 - (and this is the biggie) I don’t want to get married.

“I didn’t know we were already at the point of using pet names,” Thayden says. “But you can call me sugar anytime.”

Lol

I happen to like spreadsheets.

“Like what? Do you have a secret stash of bodice rippers hidden under your bed?” “What’s a bodice ripper?” “You’ve never heard that term?” he asks. I shake my head, and he grins. Standing up to his full height, Thayden unbuttons his shirt and pulls it open, flexing. He isn’t wearing an undershirt today, which means there is a lot of tantalizing skin on display. Whatever a bodice ripper is, sign me up! “You know, those romance novels where the guy is all, like this, and the woman’s all”—he pulls his shirt tight around the waist, and with his other hand, opens the V of his shirt feigning cleavage—“like this.”

Mr. Abramson, her stand-in dad, shakes my hand, leaning close before letting go. “She may not be my daughter but hurt her and I'll make sure you get acquainted with my shotgun.”