 by Louise Bay.jpg)
Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I’m in London, in disguise, trying to hide from the tabloids, when I slam into a wall.
Except it’s not a wall. It’s a hot hunk of British man.
And I just poured scorching hot coffee all over him.
He goes from burn victim to my fiancé in three days flat. It’s all fake to divert tabloid attention away from my recent breakup with my longtime boyfriend-turned-traitor.
Except it doesn’t feel fake. The way he looks at me makes me shiver. When he touches me, I’m molten lava.
Neither of us is looking for anything serious.
Except…did I tell you how hot he looks playing naked Twister? He might just be husband material.
For real.
A standalone fake relationship romance in the Doctors Series.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
ONE
Beau
Nothing beats the French Alps. Blue skies, white powder snow, sunshine—not to mention the views. It’s invigorating. It’s life-affirming. It’s life-changing. That’s why I decided last night to ask Coral, the woman I’m here with, whether she wants to move to London and into my apartment. I’m not far off thirty, all my brothers are settling down, and I really enjoy going on trips with Coral. She’s fun, up for adventure, gorgeous—we’re really compatible.
We stand in place for the chairlift and it scoops us up, heading toward the top of my favorite run in this area. The Sarenne is an infamous ten-mile black run, the longest in the world, and three thousand and thirty meters above sea level. To my mind, it’s the jaw-dropping views that make it special, especially the vista just before you start. That’s when I’m going to ask Coral to move in with me. I didn’t plan this before I came out here, but we’re having such a great time, I thought, why not? We both like the same things and it would give us some time to get to know each other more.
“You ready?” I ask from beside her as the end of the lift comes into view.
“I’m going to beat you this time,” she replies. She’s competitive and knows how to have fun. Every time we take a trip together, I like her a bit more. She’s opened up a little this trip about how she wants to move on from yachting and put down roots. It’s perfect timing.
I chuckle. “Okay then.”
We slide off the chairs and come to a stop by the sign directing people down the mountain.
“Take a picture, will you?” she asks. Coral’s Instagram is impressive. It helps that she works on superyachts, where there are plenty of photo opportunities.
I pull out my camera and she poses by the sign. I take a couple of shots and send them to her.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she says, snapping the visor on her helmet shut.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just one thing before we do.” I’m grinning. I can’t wait to see her face when I ask her.
She stops, slightly ahead of me, turns back and lifts her visor. “What?”
“So I’ve been thinking about stuff.”
She glances at the start of the run and then back at me.
I continue. “We always enjoy our trips together. We’re compatible. We enjoy each other’s company. I thought it might be nice if you moved to London.” I fumble at the Velcro fastening of my pocket and pull out my front door key. “How about we live together?”
She laughs and I grin back, but she just nods to the start of the run. “Are we going or what?”
I bristle at her just ignoring my question. “Yeah, when you’ve answered me.”
“But you’re not…serious?” she asks. “You can’t actually think I’m going to give up my job and move to London.”
“You said you were looking to move on from yachting. It’s not like I can easily practice medicine in the south of France.”
“Right,” she replies. “And I’m not asking you to. Because, this—” She gestures to me and then back to her with her ski pole. She laughs again, and this time I can’t help hearing a sharp edge to the sound. “You’re not the guy I settle down with. You’re the guy before the guy I settle down with. The warm-up guy.”
I can’t quite see because of her helmet, but the tone of her voice tells me she’s rolling her eyes, like I’m ridiculous for thinking she might want to get serious with me.
“What are you talking about?”
She sighs. “I’m not wasting time talking about this. I want to have fun. Are you coming or not?”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what?”
“I just asked you to move in with me and you basically were an arsehole about it.”
“She sighs. I’m not being an arsehole. I’m being realistic. We’re nothing. We never were anything. We’re never going to be anything. Buddies, yeah. Friends who go on trips together. But we were never more. And anyway, I was going to tell you—I got engaged last month.”