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Dominic Hardy might be an award-winning architectural engineer with fancy degrees and considerable accolades, but he doesn’t know a thing about baking.
He doesn’t even like sugar.
So when my late stepfather’s will states that Dominic Hardy is set to inherit the Pacific Coast Resort he’d painstakingly designed, as long as my bakery can be plopped in the middle of it, it’s no surprise he balks.
And my jaw drops when another stipulation requires us to mutually approve plans for my bakery’s design.
His stuffy taste will never mix with my whimsical vibe.
But then Dominic comes to me with a proposal I can’t refuse. He’ll give me everything I want in my bakery as long as I agree to one thing:
Fake date him for five months.
Keep his ex away by pretending we’re in love.
Smile and stare into his piercing green eyes at a gala or two.
Maybe share a kiss.
Nothing extreme.
Five months of acting in love when I really loathe him and his filthy mouth.
Even when he’s using it on me.
This should be a cakewalk.
Except there’s a fine line between love and loathing, and I think I’ve made the colossal mistake of blurring it.