I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying. The problem is: it’s not my baby. And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner. As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth. At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus. He and I butted heads. Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money. Gradually, he learned to trust me.

One dead millionaire. Three potential inheritors. And a crazy inheritance game to decide who wins everything.

One Friday night, after a horrible day at work, Elena decides to cheer herself up with a one-night stand with a hot stranger. The guy who propositions her has a scorching bod and a sexy British accent. Cheered up? Check. Until Monday morning, when she walks into the office, and there he is. Her one-nighter is her boss's ex-husband, Chance Dixon.

I’ve always wanted the fairy tale wedding. Not for the princess perfect dress or big party, but for papa. My grandfather. The only father figure I’ve ever known. It’s his dying wish to walk me down the aisle. Gee, no pressure. But I can grant that wish. I just have to fake being head over heels in love with Ross Andrews, my best friend's big brother whom I embarrassingly crushed on all through high school. Handsome. Knockout sexy. Arrogant jerk extraordinaire. Our childish pranks and tit-for-tat battles were legendary.

I've got a thing for men who work with their hands. I thought I learned my lesson years ago. But here I am, back in the small town I grew up in, staring down at the man who broke my heart years ago. I intended to tell him off. My plan was to flip him the bird and prove to both of us that he hadn't ruined me. I sure as hell wasn't going to sleep with him. Until he tells me he's sorry. Until he gives me that smoldering look I still dream about. Until he whispers just beneath the shell of my ear.