He was my high school crush. Now he’s pretending to be my boyfriend—and I’m pretending I’m not falling for him.
When Hoyt McNamara stepped in to rescue me from a drunk with grabby hands, pretending to be my boyfriend, I knew two things:
One, I still hadn’t outgrown the way I felt about him.
Two, it was a terrible idea to let him get involved.
But Hoyt didn’t just step in—he stayed.
He offered to keep up the ruse, to shield me from the island rumor mill and the threats creeping closer to my door.
Then he became my landlord, and suddenly there was no escaping the man I’d spent half my life trying not to want.
The fires started small. Easy to brush off as accidents.
Until they weren’t accidents anymore.
Until someone started pointing fingers at me.
Until it was clear I was the real target.
Hoyt says he’ll keep me safe.
But the closer the danger gets, the harder it is to protect my heart from the one man who could burn it down for good.
Harper Jackson has rescued her co-workers from a hostage situation, battled ninjas, and stopped international espionage—in her head anyway. Now that she’s no longer busy devising ways to make staff meetings more entertaining, she’s pouring that imagination into tales of breath-stealing, small-town romantic suspense. She believes that peach cobbler with ice cream is the best dessert ever and has a black belt in taekwondo to back it up. She lives in the Deep South with her husband and three canine furbabies.