Carter Fleming broke my heart right after our first kiss.
Years later, we found a way to be best friends again.
Until I blurt out to my evil stepsister that Carter is my boyfriend.
To avoid humiliating myself further, I ask for his help in maintaining a two-month-long charade.
My grumpy, commitment-phobic friend agrees on two conditions:
One: We can’t get feelings involved. (Ha! Been there, done that, stole his t-shirt.)
Two: Move in with him while he renovates my old house.
Until every playful touch feels real and every kiss makes me lose sight of what we’re really doing. Soon, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we crossed those old lines we drew between us…