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š¼ šØššš®, š¢šš§š§šššš-š¤š-šš¤š£š«šš£ššš£šš, šš£šš¢šššØ-š©š¤-š”š¤š«šš§šØ, šš¤šš šš® š§š¤š¢šš£šš šš® š¼š¢ššÆš¤š£ šš¤š„ š±š¬ šš£š ššš¼ šš¤ššš® šššØš©šØšš”š”šš£š ššŖš©šš¤š§, š.š
. šš®š”š«ššØ.
š§šµš²šæš²'š š»š¼ššµš¶š»š“ ššæš¼š»š“ šš¶ššµ š½š¹š®šš¶š»š“ ššµš² š“š®šŗš²-š²š š°š²š½š ššµš²š» šš¼š šøš»š¼š šš¼š'šæš² š®šÆš¼šš šš¼ š¹š¼šš².
As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming many things. A twenty-five-year-old photographer struggling to make ends meet with a mountain of legal fees wasn't one of them. Making questionable decisions wasn't either.
After hanging up my camera, I start a job I loathe that has me questioning my morals on a daily basis.
Until I run into Chicago's newest bad-boy goalie whose reputation is a trainwreck-šš®š°š³šŗ ššš“š°šÆ.
In a desperate effort to rid my debt, I corner Emory and try to exploit him. When my plan backfires, I not only have a new enemy with steely blue eyes and a talent for the game but a man now on a mission with his own insane plan in mind.
šš¢š³š³šŗ š®š¦.
The terms are simple: I marry Emory and act like his doting wife in front of the press to clean up his image, and he'll pay off my debt when the job is done. But now, instead of my bills keeping me up at night, I find myself fantasizing about my fake husband and his devilish stare.
He tells me to play the game, but when lines start to blur and his touches linger, I'm not sure what's real or fake anymore. The sizzling attraction and fiery chemistry between us can't be contained.
Emory Olson says he never loses, and by the end of our marriage game, I'm pretty sure I'm no exception.
š§šµš²šæš²'š š»š¼ššµš¶š»š“ ššæš¼š»š“ šš¶ššµ š½š¹š®šš¶š»š“ ššµš² š“š®šŗš²-š²š š°š²š½š ššµš²š» šš¼š šøš»š¼š šš¼š'šæš² š®šÆš¼šš šš¼ š¹š¼šš².
As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming many things. A twenty-five-year-old photographer struggling to make ends meet with a mountain of legal fees wasn't one of them. Making questionable decisions wasn't either.
After hanging up my camera, I start a job I loathe that has me questioning my morals on a daily basis.
Until I run into Chicago's newest bad-boy goalie whose reputation is a trainwreck-šš®š°š³šŗ ššš“š°šÆ.
In a desperate effort to rid my debt, I corner Emory and try to exploit him. When my plan backfires, I not only have a new enemy with steely blue eyes and a talent for the game but a man now on a mission with his own insane plan in mind.
šš¢š³š³šŗ š®š¦.
The terms are simple: I marry Emory and act like his doting wife in front of the press to clean up his image, and he'll pay off my debt when the job is done. But now, instead of my bills keeping me up at night, I find myself fantasizing about my fake husband and his devilish stare.
He tells me to play the game, but when lines start to blur and his touches linger, I'm not sure what's real or fake anymore. The sizzling attraction and fiery chemistry between us can't be contained.
Emory Olson says he never loses, and by the end of our marriage game, I'm pretty sure I'm no exception.
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- SeriesBlue Devils #1