The next book in New York Times Bestselling Author
Julia Kent's Shopping series is here - get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A CEO'S FIANCEE now!
About SHOPPING FOR A CEO'S FIANCEE
We skipped right over the whole fiancée thing
and went straight from girlfriend to wife.
At least, I think that’s what happened. I woke up after my brother’s Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We’re both wearing wedding rings.
So is her coworker, Josh.
And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi.
Who the hell am I married to?
Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.
Or, whoever we’re actually married to.
Oh, ^%$#.
It’s true that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, with one exception:
If she’s my wife, we’ll make it work.
If she’s not?
I’ll make it happen.
Get the 9th book in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series as Andrew and Amanda sort out their wild Vegas night...and the rest of their lives.
At least, I think that’s what happened. I woke up after my brother’s Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We’re both wearing wedding rings.
So is her coworker, Josh.
And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi.
Who the hell am I married to?
Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.
Or, whoever we’re actually married to.
Oh, ^%$#.
It’s true that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, with one exception:
If she’s my wife, we’ll make it work.
If she’s not?
I’ll make it happen.
Get the 9th book in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series as Andrew and Amanda sort out their wild Vegas night...and the rest of their lives.
Add SHOPPING FOR A CEO'S FIANCEE to Goodreads here!
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Read a Sneak Peek of SHOPPING FOR A CEO'S FIANCEE:
“We’re not—you don’t really—we can’t be—”
“Married?”
She laughs, but it’s a brittle sound. “Come on. We didn’t
actually have a wedding last night.”
“We didn’t? You’re sure?” I perk up. Great. She remembers
last night. I squeeze my eyes and try to recall something—anything—that
happened after Declan and Shannon said their goodbyes at the reception last
night.
“I’m, well, I mean...” Twisting in my arms, she looks at me with
those big, wide, trusting eyes, her left hand splayed against my bare chest,
digging in where the robe has separated. “You don’t remember what
happened?”
My voice drops with uncertainty.
Hers goes up.
“No.”
“Quit joking.”
“Not joking.”
“We both can’t remember any part of last night?”
“When does your memory end?” I ask.
Mascara is streaked along the corner of her eye, and any makeup
she wore last night currently resides somewhere on my skin or on the bedsheets.
I can only imagine what I look like.
Amanda, though, is gorgeous. In my arms and looking at me with a
perplexed expression, biting her lower lip while she flips through the filing
cabinets of memory in her mind, and—
“I don’t know.”
I sit up. “You’re the fixer.”
“I know! But I remember saying goodnight to Shannon, hugging
Declan, and then—poof! Nothing.”
Poof.
“That’s when my memory ends, too,” I say, my skin beginning to
crawl. “I know one thing: we did not have a foursome.”
“And I soooooo did not sleep with Josh. He’s gay. The man can’t
handle watching a birth video. A real-life vagina would send him into cardiac
arrest.”
“I know my heart pounds whenever I see yours,” I whisper. She
gives me a reluctant smile, in spite of her hangover.
“That was baaaaaad,” she groans.
“All signs point to the sex question being put to rest. Worst
case, all we did was sleep with each other,” I note.
“Worst case? Buddy, sleeping with me is best case.
Best case. Always best.”
That was an unfortunate choice of words on my part. Before I can
do damage control, she speaks.
“What if we are?” she hisses.
“Are what?”
Her eyes dart to mine.
“Married.”
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About Julia Kent
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
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