Adrien Vitale is one of the most powerful people in the world. Daughter of a business man, she will stop at nothing to inherit her father's corporation. To every woman she has ever slept with, she is ruthless, ambitious and cutthroat, with no intention of ever settling down. Except when her father gives her an ultimatum, she needs to either present herself as a family woman, or risk losing her inheritance. Ever since Muse Gardner's grandmother died, she has been scraping together a living in New York City, only one step away from the streets. For the past month, she has been a waitress at one of the most high-end restaurants in New York City. But after the accident of the century―involving a pot of fondue, a hot-shot CEO and a ruined tuxedo―she's left with a bad reputation and no job prospects. Until Adrien Vitale, a filthy-rich CEO, makes her a deal: Pretend to be the billionaire's wife, for more money than Muse has ever imagined. There's just one problem. With a fake proposal, a fake wedding and a fake wife, it might just be impossible to tell what's true anymore. Can a relationship built on lies ever be real?

Declan Harte is hopeless at kissing. So when he seeks the help of Eloise McAllister, the girl who kisses brilliantly, he doesn't think much of it. After all, what kind of trouble could one cherry knot possibly bring? All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2013 by Noelle N.

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN