Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Then Collin Souza very literally crashes into his life.
Collin is chaotic and charming, and he turns Miller’s carefully ordered world upside down. Soon after they meet, Collin faces a medical emergency that would leave him drowning in debt, so a snap decision is made—marry Miller for the insurance, and have it annulled later.
It’s supposed to be a short-term thing. But between nursing Collin back to health and chemistry that can’t be denied, both men begin to wonder—could this fake marriage turn into more than either of them bargained for?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Miller
The sparkly purple van was going to plow right into me.
Eventually.
I was stopped at a light at the bottom of a steep hill. There were cars on either side of me, and directly ahead of me was a huge SUV, so there was no chance of moving out of the way. All I could do was stare into my rearview mirror as the huge van crept forward, gravity proving to be too much for its brakes.
A young guy with dark hair was behind the wheel. He looked panic-stricken as he leaned out of the window and called to me, “I’m trying to stop, I swear! I knew my brakes were a little funky, but these San Francisco hills are no joke!”
I rolled forward as much as I could, but the van kept coming, inch by inch. It was like one of those retro horror movies, where the victim was pinned down while the goo monster slowly oozed toward them.
Damn, how long was this red light?
A few seconds later, my little convertible rocked from the impact as the van’s bumper met mine. Even though I mashed down the brake pedal and set the parking brake, I began to slide forward under the weight of the van. The guy behind me shrieked.
I imagined my beautiful, fully restored Karmann Ghia folding up like an accordion as it got sandwiched between two big, heavy vehicles. Okay, so maybe I’d watched too many cartoons as a kid, but this was probably going to do some damage.
When I honked to alert the driver in front of me, he flipped me off. I muttered, “Awesome,” and braced myself for the next bump.
Half a second before I made contact with the SUV, the light changed and it drove away. I breathed a sigh of relief as I released the parking brake, threw my car into gear, and stepped on the gas. The engine revved and the tires screeched against the asphalt, while I stayed right where I was.
I took my foot off the accelerator and shifted around to look behind me. “I think our bumpers are stuck together,” the guy in the van yelled, as he leaned out of the window again. “We’d better get past the intersection and look for somewhere to pull over, before the light changes again and both of us roll into oncoming traffic!” Now there was a scary thought.
The van shoved me forward with a jolt when he stepped on the gas. It felt weird to have someone else controlling the speed while I steered, but at least he was being cautious. He turned on his hazard lights and drove a lot slower than he probably needed to, while every other driver on the road passed us and stared.
The slope leveled off after a minute, which was definitely a good thing. But both sides of the street were lined with parked cars, so there was no place to stop. Finally, I spotted a bank up ahead and pointed to it as I glanced at the guy over my shoulder. He gave me a thumbs up, and our weird little train managed to change lanes and pull into the parking lot.
We ended up stopping in the middle of the lot, which was busy on a Friday afternoon, and both of us jumped out of our vehicles. The van’s driver was tiny, and he seemed vaguely goth, thanks to his pale skin, shoulder-length dark hair, and all-black ensemble. This included jeans so shredded they were more thread than fabric, and a massively oversized T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Cat Mom.”
I tore my gaze from his fashion choices and took a look at how our vehicles were joined. His bumper was higher than mine, but only slightly. When we collided, its bottom edge had managed to slide up and over my bumper, then drop back down behind it, hooking us together.
“Oh man,” he said, “it’s like when two teens kiss and get their braces locked together. You know what I mean?” Somehow, he thought it would be helpful to illustrate this by using his hands as puppets, bumping his fingertips together as he made kissing sounds.
I told him, “I don’t think that really happens.”
“Our cars beg to differ.”
As much as I wanted to point out everything that was wrong with that statement, there was no time. We were blocking a bunch of parking spaces, and someone we’d boxed in had started to honk.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I’d suggest driving to my mechanic’s garage, but it’s probably closed for the weekend.”
“Let’s see if I can unhook them.” With that, he climbed up onto the bumpers and tried bouncing up and down.
“That’s never going to work.”
“You don’t know that.” He tried bouncing again before saying, “I’m too light. Come up here and help me.”
By this point, three cars were honking, and we were gathering a crowd of onlookers. A couple of them were holding up their phones and filming us. The very last thing I wanted was to end up as a meme, so I said, “Let’s go to my house and try to figure this out from there. It’s not very far.”