Cutting out Love: A Sweet Southern Romantic Comedy (Bama Boys Sweet RomCom, #4) (eBook, ePUB)
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I'm fake engaged to the grumpiest guy on the planet, and he's the reason my cozy haven got turned into a disaster zone. It all began with a crash. Not the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, but the kind that reduces your house to a pile of splinters, thanks to JoJo's logging crew and an ill-fated pine tree. After a string of hilariously bad attempts at finding a temporary roof, he somehow talks me into crashing in his basement. No, it's not as creepy as it sounds. Or at least it wasn't, until I got woken up by his spry eighty-year-old grandpa the next morning. But here's the kicker: when ...
I'm fake engaged to the grumpiest guy on the planet, and he's the reason my cozy haven got turned into a disaster zone. It all began with a crash. Not the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, but the kind that reduces your house to a pile of splinters, thanks to JoJo's logging crew and an ill-fated pine tree. After a string of hilariously bad attempts at finding a temporary roof, he somehow talks me into crashing in his basement. No, it's not as creepy as it sounds. Or at least it wasn't, until I got woken up by his spry eighty-year-old grandpa the next morning. But here's the kicker: when explaining my presence to Grandpa Joe, JoJo claims I'm his fiancée. Yep, you read that right. Why, you ask? Grandpa Joe has this thing where he won't pass down the family forestry business unless JoJo ties the knot. Seems easy, right? Faking out an old man who rarely ventures beyond his own porch. Wrong. Especially when you're in a small town where everyone's up in your business. And Grandpa's there, reminding you to wear that engagement ring every time you step outside. Oh, and just to amp up the drama, he spills the beans at church that JoJo and I got hitched! I'm stuck waiting for my poor house to regain its glory, all while trying to conjure up fake feelings for my pseudo fiancé/husband to sell the grandest lie. But here's the twist - the more we're forced to share space, the less I have to pretend about my feelings. Now I'm in a pickle: should I confess that my "fake marriage" has somehow turned into real feelings for Mr. Grumpy?
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