It was supposed to be a quickie. Now there's a ring on my finger.
What do you get if you mix a night in Vegas with a dash of some self-hate because your fiance ran off with your sister? An excuse to make some bad decisions.
When my friends pulled me into the lap of a random guy at the club, I rolled with it. I played along because it felt good to let loose.
I was single… I was angry… didn't I deserve a hot quickie?
Then I woke up in the same bed as a sexy stranger—with a ring on my finger.
He tells me that we're married. That I'm his wife, and he has no intention of letting me walk away from him. My mystery man with smokey eyes and a sharp smirk is used to getting his way.
This was supposed to be some quick fun.
Could one tiny mistake last a life time?
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