by Mika Lane
Just got a call. I’ve got 30 days to get married.
The old coot who used to hang out in my bar? Turned out he was a millionaire. A multi-millionaire, actually. And he just left me all his money. With a catch, of course. I only get his money if I’m 25 years old (check), and married (not checked; not by a landslide). And–I only have 30 days to pull this off.
We used to call him Grandpa. He’d sit at the bar for hours and never leave a tip. He looked like the last person in the world to have an “estate.” Well, did your mother ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? And thanks to good old Grandpa, it looks like I may never have to work again.
Life had been good. I was tending bar, making enough to get by, paying my rent, and enjoying the occasional cocktail with my best gay boyfriend, Matty. And then I got the call.
I didn’t see how I could find a husband in 30 days, until four eligible bachelors waltzed into my life. Then, I had a whole different set of problems…
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Category: Contemporary Romance