Gotta Have Mistletoe
I wasn’t planning to get fake-engaged to a king. Cowboys and royals don’t usually mix.
Christmas was supposed to be quiet: me, my kid, and as many holiday decorations that I can fit in our house.
Then I walked into the wrong room for a contracting job interview, and now the tabloids think I’m His Majesty’s new fiancé. Apparently, he was looking for a scandalous fake relationship to keep from getting matchmaked, and when he saw me, he assumed I was the scandal.
One look in his desperate eyes, and I know I can’t leave him hanging. The man just came out. I can’t let him lose face in front of the world.
Next thing I know, me and my son are flying to his snowy Scandinavian kingdom.
He’s a widower and single dad just like me, but he’s also polished, proper, and wears suits that cost more than my truck.
Still, when he looks at me under the mistletoe, this doesn’t feel like pretend.
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