Blurb
A new standalone romance from Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Ilsa Madden-Mills...
They say nothing compares to your first kiss,
But our first kiss was orchestrated for an audience.
Our second kiss…that one was REAL.
He cradled my face like he was terrified he’d f*ck it up.
He stared into my eyes until the air buzzed.
Soft and slow, full of sighs and little laughs,
He inhaled me like I was the finest Belgian chocolate,
And he'd never get another piece.
A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist...
And I was lost.
I forgot he was paying me to be his fake fiancée.
I forgot we weren’t REAL.
Our kiss was pure magic, and before you laugh and say those kinds of kisses don’t exist…
Then you’ve never touched lips with Max Kent, the hottest quarterback in college history.
Get ready for breathtaking kisses and dreamy football players…
4 starsReview by Lisa Kane
I've yet to read one of Ms. Mills' books that I haven't loved. This one is no exception. While her male heroes are often tortured and flawed, they are honest and genuine and really good people. Max Kent is in his senior year of college destined for greatness. He's the head quarterback for Leland University's football team and he's on numerous teams' watch list for the draft. But there's one golden ring that he wants more than anything-the Heisman. While his playing would put him on the short list for it, he's been making headlines for some of the drama in his life and he knows that won't help his chances.
As a senior and the head quarterback, I was the captain on our team, and it was my job to make sure we all stayed tight. Living and breathing football would be all I'd do for the next few months.
Sunny Blaine has escaped a life that was sure hell. After her mom's death, her dad spiraled out of control and took his pain out on her-physically abusing her. But when she finally made her way out she had a life changing accident. One that gave her a brief moment in time with Max Kent. Fast forward three years and she's now staying across the street from him. A football groupie brings them together. Do they remember meeting before?
Why would the King of Leland Football be interested in me?
He was like...this famous football star that the entire university -heck the entire state of Georgia-adored.
Sunny needs money, money is something Max has tons of, thanks to his rich family. Max needs to clean up his image, and he wouldn't mind having Sunny in his life. What better way to clinch the nomination for the Heisman than to have a squeaky clean romance? Better yet, how about a convenient fiancee?
Sunny's been hurt by her poor judgment in athletes before. The last thing she needs is another douche player playing around with her heart. But she never counted on Max-when he sets his mind to something-there's no stopping him.
"I won't do anything you don't want me to. I'll kiss you so good, you won't be able to kiss another guy for an entire year without thinking about me."
She shook her head in disbelief. Pffft. do you even know how cocky you are?"
"Won't deny it. I am Max Kent."
As dreamy as Max is, he's a guy and let's face it, guys screw up. Big time.
"Football will always be first with you."
"Yes," I said softly. "It trumps everything.."
"I'm not going to cry. You aren't worth it. It's just-for a while there-I thought you were different, Max. I was wrong."
Fake Fiance is funny and sexy and angsty, it will keep you turning those pages to find out how two such different people just might find their way to each other. Max Kent is divine!
Sunny. I needed her.
I couldn't exist without her in my world.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2laEuMc
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2lfrSjw
Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/2ldp4TS
EXCERPT
Max stalked over to the barrier that divided the stands from the football field and jumped it. The fans went nuts as he brushed past them, some not even realizing it until he was down the aisle. The Jumbotron followed him.
“Good Lordy, what’s he doing?” Mimi asked, clutching at her chest.
“I don’t know,” I said rather weakly, taking the chance to study him the closer he came. He was beautiful, his shoulders impossibly broad. To add to the distraction, his helmet was in his hand and all that dark brown hair was flowing around his chiseled features as if he had a fan in his face. My Viking.
“He’s coming over here,” Mimi commented.
He was. But why?
I stopped breathing . . .right when he came to a halt in front of me and knelt down on one knee.
Eyes the color of a wild ocean gazed at me.
He took my left hand in his right one.
“Max,” I breathed, my heart fluttering.
He gazed up at me. “Sunny Blaine, will you marry me?”
The stadium went wild. In a daze, I looked up at the Jumbotron and felt like I was watching this happen to someone else. Camera phones flashed all around us.
My first clear thought was I’ll kill him.
Aloud, nothing came out but a faint wheeze. Clearly someone had stuffed a giant wad of cotton in my mouth. Clearly I needed something a lot stiffer to drink than this Diet Coke. Clearly my fake boyfriend was a freaking raving lunatic.
He sat his helmet on the ground next to my feet, reached inside it and pulled out a small black box.
No, no, no!
The box opened, and my stomach churned at the sight of the large round solitaire diamond ring that was nestled on the black silk. I blinked repeatedly to clear my vision.
With deft fingers, Max eased it out of the lining and slipped it on my left hand.
I stared down at it. Then back at him.
I was going to murder the hottest quarterback in the country.
Kiss her, Kiss her, the crowd chanted.
We were the focal point of the entire world.
Max stood and tugged me up with him until we were standing. He slid his hand around my neck and pulled his face to mine. The sky was blotted out as he kissed me.
But I hadn’t said yes!
I wouldn’t say yes.
Not to a fake engagement.
The applause of the stadium was deafening. And his kiss—it was deadly. Despite my rage, my body craved him. His lips were hot, so hot, and my tongue met his with a vengeance. We kissed hard, and I nipped at him, my teeth scraping across his lips. But the only one who’d end up bleeding in this scenario was me.
He eased back to take me in, and with a final look at my face he gave a thumbs-up sign to the entire stadium. They went nuts, chanting his name.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear, letting his hand trail down my arm as he stepped back from me. He walked away backward, eyes on me the entire time. The announcers for the game told everyone who might have missed it that Max Kent had just asked his girlfriend to marry him, and she’d said yes. More cheers came as they replayed him on his knee in front of me with a giant YES written across the top.
I plopped back down in my seat. Frozen.
“. . . did you see her face? Shocked . . .”
“. . . most romantic thing in football . . .”
“. . . luckiest girl in the world . . .”
My face went hot. Even my ears burned. I wanted to crawl under a seat.
God.
What a lie.
The half ended and our offense came out to the field, snapped the ball, and Max threw it straight to Tate who ran it in for another touchdown. My chest constricted and anger churned in my gut.
I didn’t care who won.
I hated football right now.
Most of all, I hated Max Kent, and I was going to make him pay.
About the Author
Wall Street Journal best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She's addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding females. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Ian Somerhalder, astronomy (she's a Gemini), and tattoos. She has a degree in English and a Master's in Education. When she's not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets and fuzzy pajamas.
She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors. Email her at ilsamaddenmills@gmail.com.
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