Book
Blurb:
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.
Buy
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Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1sBw3IN
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Amazon Australia: http://bit.ly/1TKfjbz
iBooks: http://apple.co/1X94p1O
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1VKr5pI
BN: http://bit.ly/1rvtVlC
GP: http://bit.ly/1TA3zp4
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1sgnuDE
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/25nt9pC
Amazon Australia: http://bit.ly/1TKfjbz
iBooks: http://apple.co/1X94p1O
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1VKr5pI
BN: http://bit.ly/1rvtVlC
GP: http://bit.ly/1TA3zp4
Excerpt
“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.”
About the Author:
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. She loves to hear from her readers by email at
julia@jkentauthor.com
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