I can’t stand my brother’s best friend.

Not only is he always around, but he’s the hottest and cockiest guy I’ve ever met.

One night in Vegas later and the next thing I know, he’s also my husband.

I may not have a lot of things figured out in life, but I do know that getting him to sign those papers before anyone in my family or his learns our secret, is at the top of my list. Of course, he says no when I ask him. He loves to drive me insane.

Now, I don’t know why he won’t give me what I want, but the moment a pipe bursts in my brother’s basement where I’d been staying, Beck Robertson is there to save the day with a spare room for the taking.

Ignore the fact his house is my dream home, or that he likes routine as much as I do, or that he hates wearing shirts inside, or that he’s funny and his smile makes me forget why I don’t like him—I have a goal to accomplish.

If I can’t get him to sign those papers with my words, becoming the worst roommate of all time is clearly the answer. He can say no all he wants, but he’s forgetting one little thing. Failure is not in my vocabulary. Unfortunately for me, it’s not in his either.

Read Chapter One and Two below!

Chapter One

Beck

I’m surprisingly good at sneaking around. A lot better than I would have assumed, honestly. I can’t say it’s an excellent quality or even one I’m happy to have acquired, but it does come in handy.

I close the door to my new home office and let out a breath. Having my friends over for dinner and hanging out in my backyard was exactly what I needed. I’ve never been more proud of myself than I am right now. Not only is my release from last week still in the top three of Lovers Magazine’s bestsellers list, but I’m officially a homeowner. It only took me thirty years for the second part, but this house is perfect. Not just for me, but for the future wife and kids I plan to have.

Yep, that’s me. Beck Robertson. Hopeless romantic—or hopeful if you want to get technical—who just so happens to write romance novels. They’re damn good too. Obviously, since I’m on a bestsellers list. Okay, so I’m a little cocky too. I can’t help it. Confidence has never been something I struggle with. When I was a kid, my grandpa told me that I have to live the life I want. Don’t get stuck in a life you wish you were living. I know, it’s a little wonky. Grandpa loved his whiskey, but the point is, I wanted to live a life of confidence, control, and success from a young age, and now, being an adult, well, I’m successfully living the life I’ve always dreamed of having.

Minus the reason I snuck into my office.

I scan the white wall with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves behind my desk. My gaze glides over how much more work I need to do—nothing has been unpacked to fill them yet—and then to my desk. It’s a mess, too. In fact, the room isn’t even close to being organized. The desk is together and there’s a chair and my computer is open and ready to use. Technically, that’s all I need at this point.

Oh, and a damn good idea for my next book.

Fuck. I’m drawing a blank.

Without an idea of what my next book is going to be about, I can’t even focus on having a couple hours of fun with my friends. Now, I know I’m more than just a romance writer, but hell, this is one of my favorite parts of my life and I’m… stuck.

I drop into my seat and pull my phone from my pocket. Doug, my agent, has been texting me for two days now, but it’s the latest message that stresses me out the most.

Doug: These chapters are shit, Beck. Do you still want this double book and movie deal or not? Give me something better. Again.

Fucking hell.

Again.

Again!

And yeah, I want that movie deal. What author would pass that up?

I’d like to type back a snarky reply, tell him he shouldn’t talk to me like that. I’m his client. I deserve respect, but considering we go back to our college years and have competed against each other chugging a beer bong upside down, praying the liquid doesn’t come gushing from our noses at numerous frat parties before our careers started, I know he’s just being honest, and in the end, his ability to tell me how it is will help me in the long run.

Plus, he’s not wrong. The chapters he’s referring to are the fourth set of beginning chapters for a new book. They’ve all sucked. I knew it before I even sent them, but hey, something is better than nothing, right?

Not to mention, writers are known to be hard on themselves. Something I might think is boring as hell might be gold in the eyes of another.

I open a Word document and just stare at the screen, the sound of laughter outside my window pulling my attention. Now isn’t the time to start a new book. I have guests. Then again, considering all my friends are romance writers themselves, they’d understand. Hero was just in this spot a little over a year ago. Struggling to write because of an outside event that wouldn’t let his mind calm down enough to focus on his creativity. For him, it was a bad review.

Me?

That’s not my problem.

Simon would tell me to relax and take a few days off to let my mind rest. Tobias would tell me to step out of my lane. That’s a hard no for me. He’s the only romance writer I know who can write whatever he wants whenever he wants and get away with it. Then there’s Graham, and while he would have sound advice, our writing couldn’t be more different. I’m all about the slow burn, no clothes, saucy shit, and he’s… milk and cookies with an arm around her shoulders while they watch the Hallmark Channel. Which means our approach to what helps the process is different. Zane would be down to go on a run with me. He never seems to struggle with plot issues, and he’s great at helping me fix mine.

So, yeah, I have a lot of options, but truth be told, they’d all ask what happened to cause this disruption in my writing life, and I’m not ready to talk about it with any of them. I’m not even sure what the hell is going on myself.

I snap my MacBook closed and head out of my office.

Staring at nothing isn’t going to help me.

I jog up my basement steps and am just about to open one of my French patio doors just off the dining room when Calla, Simon’s younger sister and the biggest pain in my ass, grabs my wrist and pulls me down the upstairs hallway. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. I swear, I don’t know what it is, but this woman… hell, she deflates my maturity by twenty years.

“What?” I ask and pinch the spot between my eyes. Between her and my book problems, I need to find some advice.

She peeks over my shoulder in the direction we just came from and then pins me with a glare.

As soon as my eyes lock on hers, my heartbeat picks up pace and the memory of the last time we were alone takes over.

I swallow, a grin tugging at my lips. The gesture only annoys her more.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts or phone calls?”

I lick my lips and nod.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. We hooked up, and she got attached, and I just ghosted her because she’s my best friend’s sister and the rules of life basically forbid it.

Nope. Not even close.

“Beck, answer me before someone finds us.”

I reach for her, but she swats my hand away.

“What do you want me to say, Calla? I haven’t answered your texts or calls for a reason.”

Her green eyes shine like a rare emerald against her bright blonde hair pulled on top of her head into a messy bun. I wouldn’t mind letting it down and giving it a good tug with her on her knees in front of me. But there is no way in hell I’d tell her that.

She stomps her foot. “It’s a stupid reason and one I don’t agree with.”

I shrug. “Give me a different offer and maybe we can talk.”

I move to pass her, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

“I have only one offer, Beck, and it isn’t changing.”

Heat pricks at every part of my body as I grind my teeth.

“Neither is mine.”

She holds her gaze steady with mine. I rest one hand flat on the wall next to her head and lean in so close, I can feel her breath brush over my cheek.

My lips part to speak, but she pushes me back. The anger in her eyes deflates.

“Please, Beck. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

My brow peaks, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t be dirty. Seriously, you come off as the most innocent of the group, but deep down, I think you’re the worst.”

“You used to like that once upon a time.”

She slaps my shoulder. “Be an adult about this.”

“I am,” I chuckle.

“You are not.”

“Beck! Where are you?” Simon’s voice carries through my main floor, and Calla’s eyes go wide. “I spilled my beer all over your brand-new patio table, and I need more paper towels.”

“Looks like I have to go.”

“Beck,” Calla says in a sharp whisper that stops me in my tracks. “You can fight this as much as you want, but at the end of the day, I still want a divorce.”

The last word is like a knife through my heart.

“I know you do,” I say and bow my head before leaving.

The thing is, I don’t.

Chapter Two

Beck – Vegas

I can’t stop staring at Hero and Nora.

I want what they have.

Maybe I’m too desperate to find true love. Maybe my books turn women away because they think that’s what I want. Maybe I hold my standards too high. I mean hell, for as far back as my family can remember, not a single Robertson has ever been divorced. It’s not in our genes. So yeah, my standards are high. The pressure is high. I get one chance. I can’t mess it up.

Maybe I’m overthinking it.

“You want to go grab a beer or two before we call it a night?” Zane asks, his attention on his phone. Probably texting his “non-girlfriend” Willa.

Riiight. They aren’t dating, my ass. Those two are as committed as the soon-to-be newlyweds sharing a seat across from me.

Fuck.

Everyone around me is happily settling down, and then there’s me. Happy as hell for them but envious as fuck.

Wanting to be in love isn’t a crime. It doesn’t make me pathetic or sappy or whatever you want to call it just because I want that and don’t have it.

It makes me human.

Fucking hell, I need a drink or two.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

I stand just as Hero says, “We’re going to call it a night, but let’s still plan to meet poolside tomorrow, yeah?”

“Oh, it’s so cute how you all keep your traditions on tour. Poolside on your day off.”

Hero pinches Nora’s side, and she laughs before he kisses her.

Shots. I need shots too.

Zane and I say goodbye to the lovebirds and head out of the restaurant and down the Strip. Signings in Vegas are a lot of work, but they’re some of my favorites. Normally, we don’t stay on the Strip, but we changed it up this year. It also helped that Simon brought his son because his summer babysitter quit at the last minute. He thought the Strip would be more fun for him. Roller coasters and whatnot. So far, his favorite has been M&M’s World.

“Hey, wait up!” a female voice says. It’s one I know all too well.

Simon’s sister. Calla.

“Calla, are you heading out on the town?” Zane jokes with her.

“Not exactly. Just a drink or two. I ran into Nora in the elevator, and she said you two just left, so I thought I’d catch up.”

Her eyes lock on mine, and I can tell she’s just itching to say something snarky.

I beat her to it.

“What, no one needed an escort tonight?”

I skim her outfit.

I know what I said. I know it was shitty. But fuck, what was I supposed to say? Wear that dress again and I’ll tear it off myself?

Nope. Can’t say that.

So, be a dick it is.

“You know what? I’m not even going to respond to that. I’m in a great mood today, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah, why?” Zane asks as we all fall into step.

“I got a job. I’m officially moving to Wind Valley at the end of the summer.”

I turn to her, ready to reply, but catch the stern look on Zane’s face first, then the sharp shake of his head.

“Congratulations, Calla. I bet Simon is thrilled,” he says to her.

“He is. My parents, not so much.”

“Why not? You’re an adult. You’re twenty-nine now, right?”

“Yes, and I don’t know how to explain it. I’m… oh! I’m a pantser, if you want to use writer’s terms.”

“Makes sense, then.”

I listen as the two of them carry on conversation for about another block before Zane stops abruptly.

“Umm,” he says and flashes his phone to us to show that Willa is calling. “I’m gonna take a rain check.”

“No!” Calla cries out while I try not to grind my teeth.

“Think you two can survive?” he asks, backing up.

“Of course.” Calla smiles.

I’m still glaring at him.

“Good. Night!”

We both stand there until Zane is out of sight.

“Night, Beck.”

Calla turns on her heel.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a drink. Without you. I don’t want you to ruin my mood.”

“You’re not getting a drink alone.”

“Yes, I am.”

“The hell you are. Simon would kill me if he knew I let you go out alone in Vegas wearing a dress like that.”

“What kind of dress am I wearing?” She spins and I bump into her.

“No way. I’m not playing this. As your brother’s longest best friend, I’ve known you since you were ten, and I know your games. You know you’re fucking sexy, Calla. I’m not letting you go out alone.”

“Wrong. And compliment or not, I don’t want you to come.”

“You don’t get a choice.” I continue to follow her as she heads into the MGM, my eyes fighting to look anywhere but at her supple ass.

I’m not a perv. She’s just too damn good to look away from. Has been since we were in high school, but like every other thought I have for Calla, I’m not about to tell her that.

“Wrong again. Goodbye, Beck.”

I pause as she heads into one of the bars. As soon as she takes a seat, I walk in and take the one next to her. I twist my stool so we aren’t stuck face-to-face, breathing on each other, but whether she likes it or not, I’m going where she goes.

She groans, loudly, and the bartender looks back and forth between us before deciding to ignore whatever thought he had.

“Drinks?” he asks.

“Moscow mule, please,” Calla says without thinking twice.

“Just a beer for me, thank you.”

“Brand?”

“Your favorite on draft.” I couldn’t care less what I’m drinking right now. I’ll most likely be nursing it so that I can keep an eye on Calla.

“And a shot of vodka, please,” Calla adds.

“Yeah, good idea. Get shitfaced and wander around Vegas.”

“Oh, are you jealous I’m going to have fun tonight and you aren’t?”

“Hardly.”

“God, you’re boring.”

I roll my eyes.

“If she takes a shot, I take a shot,” I tell the bartender.

Fuck, this is going to be a long night.