Welcome to life as a wedding planner for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all—from the nastiest bridezilla to the most overindulged billionaire.
And Evan is the worst.
Tall, dark, and handsome, he has a ridiculously ripped body under his formal suit and runs a massive hedgefund that’s actively making the world a worse place.
I don’t even feel sorry for him when he walks away from the altar in a daze.
Well, maybe a little bit.
Enough that I now have a billionaire holed up in my teeny tiny apartment.
I regret it immediately.
My violently antisocial cat has welcomed him like a long lost brother, Evan’s half-naked six-foot-five frame is sprawled across my bed, and he’s eaten all of my lasagna.
A day and an epic screaming match later, he’s out on the street, and I have my high-stress, lonely life back.
But I can’t worry about a billionaire’s hurt feelings.
After all I have a business to run and bridezillas to corral.
But when I go to meet with my latest bride, guess-who is there smirking at me.
Evan’s decided he’s ready to move on from the cheating witch.
Who does he want as his rebound?
Me.
But I am immune to Evan’s obnoxious displays of wealth and his piercing blue eyes.
These panties are staying firmly on.
Mostly.
Except for that one time.
But it’s not like anyone’s falling in love right? Right?!
