Save The Date Series by Emilia Finn

Picture this. Your fiancé cheats on you with that skank b*tch Karla from high school in your almost-in-laws’ guest bathroom—the day before your wedding! Two years later, you’re living your best life, drowning in self-doubt, crippled by the idea of true love, and reeling in toxicity because you refuse to accept a second date, no matter how perfect a guy seems. Commitment? No thanks. Tried that. Got the shirt. It’s ugly... morePicture this. Your fiancé cheats on you with that skank b*tch Karla from high school in your almost-in-laws’ guest bathroom—the day before your wedding! Two years later, you’re living your best life, drowning in self-doubt, crippled by the idea of true love, and reeling in toxicity because you refuse to accept a second date, no matter how perfect a guy seems. Commitment? No thanks. Tried that. Got the shirt. It’s ugly. Now your ex is marrying that skank b*tch, and it’s just your (horrible) luck that you’re a bridesmaid. Sigh. It doesn’t matter how little dignity you possess these days, there’s no way in hell you’re attending that shit show alone. So now you need a boyfriend. Someone who adores you. Someone who looks fantastic in a suit, smiles like the devil himself, and is willing to play along with your ruse. You need a fake boyfriend. What’s a nine-page contract, two-thousand dollar deal, and a seven-day house guest between friends? less

Meet-cutes are supposed to be… cute, right? A stroll through the park. A lingering stare with a handsome stranger. A sexy little smile that says “Hey, want to ruin each other’s lives in a fun, romantic way? ”. Yeah. Not my story. I hit my handsome stranger with my car. Launched him over the hood. Wrecked his shoulder. And for one horrifying second, I genuinely considered burying him in the woods because I thought he was dead. Merry freakin' Christmas to me... moreMeet-cutes are supposed to be… cute, right? A stroll through the park. A lingering stare with a handsome stranger. A sexy little smile that says “Hey, want to ruin each other’s lives in a fun, romantic way? ”. Yeah. Not my story. I hit my handsome stranger with my car. Launched him over the hood. Wrecked his shoulder. And for one horrifying second, I genuinely considered burying him in the woods because I thought he was dead. Merry freakin' Christmas to me. We’re a week out from the worst holiday ever created—tinsel, forced family time, aggressively cheerful music. Hard. Pass. But here’s the thing: December might not suck quite so hard anymore. Because the man I accidentally vehicular–manslaughter-adjacent-ed? He’s annoyingly gorgeous. Surprisingly sweet. He looks like sin even with his arm in a sling, and flirts like it’s a competitive sport. And if the sketch on the news is anything to go by, he might also be a charming, infuriating, potential felon-in-hiding. Which, honestly, might be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in this godforsaken month. Turns out, fate doesn’t always whisper. Sometimes it slams a gorgeous man onto the hood of your car and says,. Try again, sweetheart. less