I have one month to find a bride or I lose my daughter.
They say a tattoo artist with a dirty mouth can’t be a kickass father.
Bullsh*t. But my lawyer says I need a wholesome bride to convince the judge.
I know just the perfect girl—hell—I think she might even be a virgin.
Only problem? She’s my sister’s best friend, and she hates my guts.
When my best friend’s brother asks me to marry him, I nearly slap him in the face. I’m pretty sure he’s teasing me—just like he always has—but marriage isn’t something to joke about. Not when I’m pushing thirty with no hope in sight. And not when I’ve always had a huge, stupid crush on him.
Then he tells me he’s serious. He needs me to do it so he can keep his daughter.
I have to refuse. He’s always treated me like crap, which makes my feelings toward him even more sad and pathetic.
How can I not have a crush on him though? He’s always wearing a thin, tight undershirt that shows off his cut abs and broad shoulders, and despite what some people say about his chops as a father, he’s as sweet to his daughter as he is mean to me.
Maybe I can say “yes.” I’d be doing it for his daughter, not for him. And I certainly wouldn’t be doing it with the sad hope that he’d look at me as anything other than his sister’s dorky friend—that he’d touch me and make me—no, definitely not that.