Please bring a respectable date.
Four words from my mother, underlined once. I tore the note to pieces. Then I taped it back together.
Because I'm a curvy bartender at a biker roadhouse in Tennessee, and respectable isn't on my menu.
Then Hollis Grant, the club's buttoned-up treasurer, makes me an offer over tequila shots. I'll survive his snobby family. He'll survive my sister's plantation wedding.
He drafts a contract. I add a clause demanding he dance.
No kissing unless necessary. No falling in love. Easy. Strictly business.
Except he notices everything. My coffee order. My middle name. The scar he's dying to kiss.
And the night a pretend kiss in front of my mother turns real, every rule we wrote goes up in flames.
But when you fall for a man who lives by the numbers…
How do you know you're more than a line in his ledger?
Steamy fake dating. Curvy sassy bartender. Buttoned-up biker treasurer. Age gap. Forced proximity. One room, one bed. Guaranteed HEA.
