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I can’t believe I have to go home to Nebraska for my sister’s wedding. I’m gonna need a wingman and a whole lot of vodka for this level of family interaction. At least my bestie agreed he’d man up and help. Too bad he had to catch a different flight than me. Then his plane got delayed. And finally—because bad things always happen in threes—instead of my best friend, his evil twin strolls out of the airport. If you looked up doesn’t-deserve-to-be-that-confident, way-too-hot-for-his-own-good billionaire in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Will Holt. He’s awful. Horrible. The worst—even if his butt looks phenomenal in those jeans. Ten times worse? My buffer was supposed to be there to keep me away from the million and one family events. But Satan’s spawn just grins and signs us up for every. Single. Thing. Fine. “Cutthroat” Scrabble? I’m in. I can’t wait to take this guy down a notch. But somewhere between Pictionary and the teasing glint in his eyes, our bickering starts to feel like more than just a game...
The Wedding Date Disaster | 
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