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Growing up in a broken home taught me to watch out for myself, and that the only love out there is what I create. That’s why I stick to taking care of my baby sister and the hodgepodge of wildlife I volunteer to rehabilitate. Add in a stray puppy I found under the car with the help of Wil, a grumpy single dad move-in to Button Blossom, and everything’s good.
He’s cute. (The puppy, not Wil . . . well, okay. Wil’s broody, which also makes him a teensy bit hot.)
Except, I get kicked out of my apartment for having a dog, so when Wil proposes that I move in with him and help take care of his son for a lump sum of money that I desperately need, I totally jump at the chance to be the live-in nanny.
Apparently I wasn’t paying attention when I signed the paperwork because Wil didn’t ask for a nanny. He needs a wife.
This should be interesting.
It’s a short-term, mutually beneficial arrangement to please his overcontrolling uncle. No emotion, no required commitment to each other. Just a sterile, clean-cut deal. However, I didn’t expect Wil’s dad bod to be so chiseled. I also didn’t expect him to handle the snakes in the tub, flying squirrels in his curtains, and adorable puppy eating his favorite shoes quite so well. Worst of all, the more time I spend with Wil and his son, the more knit I feel to them as the family I never knew I needed.
Our marriage of convenience has an end date, but my heart may be too entwined to not shatter when we say goodbye.
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