You know the thing you’re not supposed to do in Vegas, yeah I did that. One minute this gigantic, bearded hockey player was saving me from being groped at celebrity golf tournament – the next, we were waking up in the same bed.
Married!
This is beyond a disaster. The whole world thinks I’m a flaky pop star serial dating her way through Hollywood bad boys (not true). Now I’m married to a grumpy hot hockey player after only one date. My publicist is trying to pull my career out of the tabloids so he says we have to stay married. Not a problem…just as long as I don’t fall for my fake husband.
Wyatt
I don’t do spontaneous. I don’t do love at first sight. I don’t do star crushes. Yet, somehow I ended up married to pop star, Sydney Malloy after the best night of my life in Vegas. She’s adorable and sweet. Our chemistry could melt ice. But she’s in a jam so we need to make this Vegas marriage look real. A trip to my remote cabin should make it seem like we’re on a prolonged honeymoon. Except when a racoon takes over the bedroom we’re left with one bed and a whole lot of attraction. We’re total opposites. I don’t want attention or red carpets. I play hockey. That’s it. So, the last thing I’m going to do is fall for my wife.
But what if I’m too late?
This is dedicated to all the ladies who are suckers for huge grumpy bearded hockey players who chop wood without a shirt.