Author: Nikky Kaye
Published by Self-Published
Release Date March 14, 2019
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy
More Info: Goodreads
There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t ask Audrey to pretend to be my fiancée.
For a starters:
1. She’s my best friend’s sexy little sister.
2. She’ll have to travel around the world with me.
3. The paparazzi will eat her alive.
4. So will I.
But I also have a million followers on social media who think we’re already engaged, and there are millions of dollars at stake. So what have I got to lose?
Title: A Model Fiancé
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Okay Creations.
Author: Nikky Kaye
Release Date: March 14, 2019
I sighed heavily as I freed my toes from the death trap heels. “Men have it so easy. You don’t have to put up with this kind of torture. No hair, no make-up to do.”
Dev shrugged. “What can I say? I roll out of bed looking like this.”
My mouth went dry as I pictured him rolling out of bed. In my imagination, he was wearing a lot less than he was now.
By the time we reached the door to my room, I realized I was running out of time to proposition him. I dropped my shoes to rummage through my purse for the key card. Didn’t I just have it, to show the guard at the elevator bank? Yeesh.
Dev waited patiently beside me. He even bent down to pick up my shoes for me. The movement of his head near my waist made me pause. Gah. Trying to ignore the tingling feeling in my stomach, I kept searching. Blindly I felt a few things, but funnily enough I couldn’t find my card—or my courage.
Oh wait, there it was. It was in the side pocket, along with a ton of sexual tension.
I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual. “Uh, do you want to come in? We could catch up… or something?”
Something in his voice made me look up from the depths of my bag. His eyes were like obsidian in the light lining the never-ending corridor. When he stepped closer, my back went up against my door.
“Forget I asked,” I murmured.
He ran his thumb over my jaw, and I reflexively tilted my head up to him. He said my name again, his voice even rougher and deeper than before. My bare toes curled against the carpet.
Still buried in my bag, my hand closed around my key. I was running out of time. Without really thinking about it, I popped up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the beard-roughened space between the corner of his mouth and his jaw.
“Thanks for the escort.”
Somehow he moved even closer, because as I went back down on my heels, I found myself flat against the door and his body pressed against mine. It was hot and hard and… oh!
“Hmmm?” Was this like Beetlejuice? If he said my name three times in a row, would I come?
I looked up to see him lick his lips. He didn’t need his body to pin me to the door—his gaze did the job well enough.
“Give me your damn key,” he growled.