A private screening of everything left unsaid.

A moment after the fight… when pretending is harder than arguing.

Read the excerpt from Foolishly His:

My heart thumped against my ribs harder than when I’d been on my first date as a teenager as I dimmed the lights in the theater room.

With a bowl of popcorn and some movie–I didn’t even know or care which one–rolling on the massive screen, I shifted in the recliner, ruefully glance at the wide arm complete with cup holders that separated me from Lila.  

We’d had a few skirmishes before, but the knock-down, drag-out fight we’d just had unsettled me.  

My stomach still churned from what had happened.  Not just with Greg.  I’d lost it when she’d told me they’d made a deal.  That was bad enough, but even worse…I’d turned on her, lashing out to hurt her as badly as she’d hurt me.  

And I hated myself for it.  

I’d gone to the lowest version of myself just to make sure she felt as hurt as I did.  

I cleared my throat as the credits rolled.  “You warm enough?”

She glanced at me, offering a polite smile. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.  I wanted to throw up.  

She wasn’t over the fight, and I could tell.  This was Ice Queen Lila.  This wasn’t the one who focused me, the one who believed in me, the one who I could almost believe I had a shot with.

This was that version of Lila who was untouchable.  She was playing along, pretending to be my wife, but she wanted to be anywhere but sitting next to me.

My lips tugged into a frown as I wondered if she was thinking of Greg.  

Had he kissed her again when he’d proposed this “conversation”?  Had she liked it?

My jaw flexed as I gripped the armrest until my knuckles turned white.  Thoughts of their conversation flitted through my mind.  Her in his arms, him whispering in her ear.  

“Lila, he’s not worth your time.  I would never have said those things about you.”

Why had I been so stupid?

Because I’d been driven by fear and hurt, and I’d been the worst version of myself–a version that would send Lila scrambling into the arms of another man.  

I had to stop any chance of that.  

I scrambled from my seat, crossing to the bin of blankets my sisters kept in the room and grabbing a soft, fluffy one.  I hurried back to Lila, sliding the armrest into its upright position before I unfurled the blanket on her lap.  

“Just in case,” I murmured.  

She offered me another one of those oh-so-polite smiles as she adjusted it. “Thanks.”

I inched closer, hating how much this felt like a high school date where I’d have to pretend to stretch and let my arm fall around her.  

I glanced sideways at her as she stared at the screen.  Something about her posture, stiff and unauthentic, told me she wasn’t really interested in the movie at all.  

She was playing along, just like she did in every other moment of our marriage.  None of this was real.  

Want to see how it all begins?  Continue the story here.

This is where something begins to shift.

I grabbed the drinks from the bar and headed back to the fireplace.  

As I approached, my heart stopped for a moment.  Lila’s laugh floated to me, and my fingers tightened around the cups.  

I found my feet moving faster, pushing myself to get back to her–to find out what she found so funny.  

Who was making her laugh like that?  

I rounded the corner, my heart stopping and my stomach twisting.  Lila grinned up at Greg Ramsey, her smile effortless, interested, almost adoring.  

I realized in an instant how precarious our relationship actually was.  Would I ever be able to win Lila?

Would I ever be able to win Lila?

Some relationships are written in ink. Others in pencil.

Click to download the character cards here!

Sometimes love looks like a warm bowl of soup.

Read the excerpt from Accidentally His, Book 1 in the Love and Luxury series:

I threaded through the halls to the kitchen and began my search.

My mother shuffled in a few moments later as I peered into the freezer. “What are you doing?”

“Do we have chicken? Where would chicken be?”

Her features turned incredulous. “Chicken? Why would you want chicken?”

“To make soup. For Lila. Chicken soup, you know? Just tell me where the chicken is.”

“How should I know? I don’t cook. Although, I do believe Maria keeps chicken soup stocked in the freezer at all times.”

I squatted lower, finding tubs of it marked. With a grin, I pulled one out and pondered how in the world I got it from frozen to hot.

With a little help from my mother, I managed to get a piping hot bowl of it, a glass of ginger ale, and even some crackers loaded onto a tray–after I got a lecture on how refreshing it was to see me actually take care of my wife.

Triumphantly, I carried it upstairs, bursting into the room with a grin on my face.

Want to see how it all begins? Continue the story here.

Hawthorne House has never been loud about its secrets.

Its rooms don’t demand attention. They reveal themselves slowly—through quiet conversations, unspoken promises, and moments meant for only a few

Step inside.
Some stories begin the moment you cross the threshold.

Some advice is meant to protect you.

Other advice is meant to warn you.

Read the excerpt from Accidentally His, Book 1 in the Love and Luxury Series:

“Why don’t you have a nightcap with me?”

“Oh, but–“ I started, poking a finger at the front door.

“Leave it, Lila,” she said, reaching for my hand. “It will all be there for someone to pick up later.”

I allowed her to pull me into the sitting room and plopped down on the couch.

Sable poured two brandies with the precise movements of someone who had hosted a thousand such conversations. She handed one off to me, settling across from me on the loveseat with perfect posture that somehow managed to look both regal and relaxed. The crystal caught the light as she raised her glass, studying me over its rim with eyes that missed nothing.

“I hope you don’t mind my unsolicited marriage advice, but I’m being quite serious.  You must put your foot down early.  Stamp it, if he doesn’t listen,” she said with a chuckle. “Don’t let him underestimate your worth.”

I slowly turned the glass in my hands as I smiled through the lecture.  It meant nothing.  Miles didn’t care about my worth.  To be fair, I was questioning it myself.  Maybe I was always destined for a cheating partner.

Sable peered at me over the rim of her glass before she lowered it.  “You don’t agree?”

I snapped my gaze up to her, pressing my lips together as I tried to come up with a response.  

She took the silence as an invitation to continue, rising from her seat and crossed to ease onto the cushion next to me. “May I be honest with you, Lila?”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.  Here came the ax.  She must have realized that our marriage was a fake.  I wondered if I should pull the rings off of my finger and hand them over now.  

“You are unlike any woman I’ve seen Miles with before.”

Heat rose in my cheeks, and I wondered what shade of red I was.  

“When he told me he was married, I assumed the worst.  I must say that I was pleasantly surprised.  But Miles can be…difficult.” She offered me a gracious smile. “He is my only son, and I’m afraid I spoiled him too much, so this is my fault.”

I huffed out a somewhat relieved breath, although guilt roiled inside of me over the lies we were telling.  “Oh, no.  I don’t blame you at all.”

She offered me a fleeting smile. “You are too kind.  And this is exactly why I worry for you in this family.  And with Miles.”

My stomach clenched as I tried not to give away how uncomfortable I was with this conversation.  “I think we both knew what we were getting into.”

She rubbed my arm, a soft smile on her features.  “If anything changes on that front, you’ll come to me, won’t you?  Before something tragic happens?”

My lower lip threatened to tremble, but I forced a smile onto my lips and nodded. “Of course. And thank you so much for the offer.”

I downed the rest of my brandy, wincing a little as it burned my throat before I shot her a demure glance. “Well, I should head back up.  I’m exhausted suddenly.”

“Of course, dear.  I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“See you tomorrow, Sable. And thanks for the drink–and the advice.”  I rose, offering her a warm smile as I stepped toward the door.

Want to see how it all begins?  Continue the story here.

Every love story has two beginnings.

One is the version we tell ourselves.

The other is the truth we’re afraid to say out loud.

These are the first two chapters—hers, and then his.

Read the first two chapters from Accidentally His, Book 1 from Love and Luxury:

Chapter 1

Lila

My head throbbed as I blinked my eyes open, only to squeeze them shut again when the light stabbed through my skull. My stomach churned, and I shifted in the bed, unsettled by how unfamiliar it felt.

A musky smell I couldn’t place filled the air, and the soft, silky sheets didn’t feel like mine.  In fact, the entire bed, pillows, and everything seemed off.  

What had happened last night?

I clapped a hand on my forehead, my eyebrows pinching as warm metal cracked me in the skull.  

“Ow,” I groaned softly as I forced my eyes to open to slits, peering at my hand.  

My eyes widened the second I spotted it.  

I pushed myself up onto my side, stretching my trembling hand out in front of me. In the morning sunshine that filtered through the curtains of the unfamiliar room, the diamond on my finger sparkled.  

Behind it, a silver band.  

I swallowed hard, my lower lip trembling as tears burned my eyes.  I glanced around, the room unfamiliar.  

The bed shifted under me, a man’s groan splitting the silence.  

My heart hammered as I slowly twisted, hoping that I wouldn’t find what I knew in my heart was next to me.  

My eyes widened as I spotted the sleeping form of a man I’d never met before in my life.  

I scrambled out of the bed, backing away from it as I tried to make sense of the whole thing.  The sudden movement made my head split.  I groaned, doubling over as nausea washed over me.  

A sob escaped me as I paced back and forth, pressing a hand to my forehead.  

After a moment, I crept forward, slowly skirting around the bed as I eyed the man.  Blonde, well-built, with the kind of chiseled features that probably graced magazine covers or charity gala photos. Even in sleep, there was something entitled about the way he sprawled across the luxury sheets, one arm flung wide as if claiming the entire bed as his domain. I'd never seen him before–at least not in person, though something nagged at the edge of my foggy memory about his face being vaguely familiar.

With a lick of my lips, I held my breath and inched closer, lifting my chin to sneak a peek at his left hand.  

“Oh,” I cried, pressing a hand over my gaping mouth as I spotted the wedding ring.  

A shadowy memory flitted on the edge of my brain.  Laughter.  A clink of glasses.  A voice I didn’t recognize saying, “Just one more.”

Bile crept up in my throat, and I stumbled back a few steps before I raced into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it.  

I backed away, my eyes stuck on the handle as though it would open on its own at any second.  I needed to think–fast.  

My fingers found the edge of the vanity, and I twisted to face it, catching a glimpse of my shocked features in the mirror.  

I flicked my gaze away, unable to look myself in the eyes.  I twisted the handles of the faucet, sending water spilling into the basin.  

As I went to collect some to splash on my face, I froze, my eyes focusing on the rings on my finger.  

I yanked them off, slamming them onto the counter before I scooped up the water and tossed it on my face.  I snatched a towel and pressed it against my skin before I took the damp material and pressed it against my neck.  

It did little to ease my splitting headache, the nausea that kept my stomach rolling, or settle my jittery nerves.  

I glanced down at my clothes.  At least I was still in them.  Just my shoes were missing.  

“Okay, Lila, just…”  I slid my eyes closed and licked my lips.  “Just grab the shoes and get out of here.”

I licked my lips, trying to steady my nerves.  All I had to do was quietly slip from the bathroom, grab my shoes, and leave the room behind.  Whatever mistake I’d made last night could be left in the recesses of my memory.  

Why had I gone to that bar?  I curled my fingers into fists.  

Trevor.  The post on his social media feed had sent me spiraling.  Apparently, more than I realized judging by my pounding headache and my current predicament.  

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.  They weren’t going to get any better, I decided.  Not until I was safe within the walls of my own tiny apartment.  

I wrapped my hand around the door handle, the metal cool under my grasp.  Slowly, I twisted it until the door popped open.  

With a wince, I eased it back enough to slip through the opening.  My companion’s muscular chest rose and fell rhythmically.  He was still asleep.

Good.  I forced myself not to bolt across the room for the shoes, instead, painfully creeping around the bed.  I found my shoes there along with my purse.  

I slung the strap of the cheap bag over my shoulder and clutched the shoes closer to my chest.  

I spun, my heart hammering against my ribs.  Before I could take a step toward the door, the man groaned, shifting in the bed. 

With wide eyes, I froze, holding my breath.  Go back to sleep, I whispered in my own mind.

But instead, his eyes fluttered opened.  He squeezed them shut for a moment with a moan before he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  He stretched, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Oh, good, you’re up.”

The nonchalance with which he said the words made my skin crawl.  I didn’t even know his name.  Exactly how much had I had to drink last night?

The man rose from the bed, still stretching as he shuffled into the bathroom, leaving me frozen in what I now realized was a hotel bedroom.  

I considered making a run for it, but before I could push my feet to move, he emerged, a slight frown on his face. “You left these on the sink.”

He held the rings out toward me. “I ought to scold you for being so careless, Mrs. Hawthorne.”

So, I had married him.  What was I thinking last night?  I wasn’t, I told myself.  That was how I ended up in this situation.  Hawthorne?  Why was that name familiar?

He scrunched his chiseled features. “Well, go on, take them.”

I stared down at them like he was handing me a snake.

He let his hand fall with a click of his tongue, my rings clinking as he shook them.

"Oh, I see. You're having second thoughts." He shoved the rings into his pocket, tucking his shirt into his pants.  The casual way he avoided my gaze made my blood boil. "Well, it's too late for that, my bride." 

He smoothed down an invisible wrinkle in his clearly expensive shirt. "We're hitched. And the internet has already been informed." 

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he saw the name 'Dom' flash across the screen. He dismissed the notification with a quick swipe before returning to his own reflection.

The words finally made me find my voice. “What?”

I dropped my shoes as I scrambled for my phone, my fingers trembling as I unlocked it.  

“Oh, she speaks,” he said with a chuckle as he buttoned his shirt and adjusted it.  

I tapped my social media app, wrinkling my nose as I found the picture of Trevor that had driven me to the bar in the first place.  I swiped it away, heading for my own feed.  A horrified groan escaped me as I found a picture of the new Mr. And Mrs. Hawthorne plastered across it.  

“What did I do?” I squealed.

“Oh, stop being dramatic.  You know, I married you because you weren’t a drama queen.  I’m starting to wonder about that.”  He casually finished buttoning his shirt.  Why was this so easy for him?

“What happened last night?” I demanded, my voice still shrill.

He snapped his gaze to me. “Calm down, would you?  It’s not even ten in the morning, and you’re already shouting at me.  I really expected to ride out the newlywed phase longer than this.”

I didn’t find his joke amusing.  “How did we end up married?  Who are you?”

“Aw,” he said, pressing a hand against his chest, “now, I’m hurt.  You don’t even remember me?”

“How drunk was I last night?”

“Sober enough to say I do.  Now come, sweetheart, get your shoes on and the rings on.  I’d like to get out of here today, if you don’t mind.”  He rolled a hand in the air, motioning for me to hurry as he pulled on his jacket.  

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” 

My frantic shout finally got his attention.  “Are you kidding?  Wait, you’re not trying to back out of this, are you?  You can’t do that.  We had a deal.”

“What deal?  Why would I marry a perfect stranger?  I don’t even know your name!” 

He pressed his lips together, his eyes rolling slightly and an annoyed expression settling on his features.  “Really?  You don’t know who I am?”

“I think that’s obvious by now.”

“Fine.  I’m Miles Hawthorne.”  He said it like I should feel honored to breathe the same air as he did.  

For some reason that name seemed familiar.  Heat washed over me as I realized I’d seen it before in the society pages.  Miles Hawthorne, one of the heirs to the Hawthorne media empire.  How in the world had I just married one of those Hawthornes?

“Are the bells ringing yet?  I hope so because I’d like to get going here.  We’ve got a drive, you know?”  He snapped his fingers a few times, his features expectant.  

“No, I don’t know.  I don’t know anything.  All I know is that I woke up in a hotel room with a man I don’t know after apparently being black-out drunk.”  I slapped a palm against my forehead, my eyes turning glassy.  

“Oh come on.”  He let his head roll back between his shoulders.  “It’s not like I took advantage of you. You’re not exactly my type.”

My eyes widened, and my voice went up an octave.  “Then, why did you marry me?”

“For the money,” he answered.  

“I don’t have any money,” I said, my voice incredulous.

He offered me a wide-eyed stare, his tone turning sarcastic. “No, really?”

“Well, that statement makes no sense.”

“I have the money.” He poked a finger at his chest.  “But I can’t get it unless I’m married.”

“So, you married someone you randomly met at a bar?  That’s insane.”

“But it will work.  Plus, you seemed easy to get along with and pretty reasonable–although, I’m starting to wonder about that last part.”

“I was drunk!  You took advantage of that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.  You were sober enough to negotiate a ten percent cut and tell me you were happy to stick it to some ex as a perk of the deal.”

My stomach clenched as a vague memory of the discussion floated through my mind.  He’d plopped down next to me at the bar, ordering a bourbon, neat while I stared into my fruity concoction.

“You going to drink that or stare at it?” he asked.

I’d offered him a fleeting smile as he received his bourbon and downed it in one gulp, wincing as it went down.  

“That’s how you do it.”  He waved the empty glass at the bartender, silently asking for another. 

“Bad day?” I answered.

“The worst.  I guess yours wasn’t bad enough to actually drink the drink you ordered.”

“It wasn’t great,” I admitted as pictures of Trevor and his new wife danced in my head.  

One thing had led to another, and before I knew it, I’d downed multiple fruity little concoctions on his tab before he told me the sordid story of his uncle’s will and his need to marry.

With a slight haze in his eyes, he squinted at me.  “You’d make a good fake wife.”

I giggled, feeling a little woozy.  “Well, my ex wouldn’t agree with you.”

“What does he know?” Miles said.  “And I’m being serious.  Actually, I’m making you an offer.”

He’d laid it on the table.  Ten percent of his inheritance for me to pretend to be his wife until the will played out.  

I whipped around to face him.  “You offered the ten percent.  You said you were desperate.”

“I was,” he admitted with a shrug.  “Look, will you please quit being so melodramatic.  If I wanted to deal with all of this drama, I would have married one of the models I’ve dated.”

“Maybe you should have instead of ruining my life,” I cried. 

“I’m hardly ruining your life.  You just married the top one percent.  You won’t have to wear those cheap shoes or carry that bargain-bin purse another day in your life.  I did you a favor.  It would be nice if you started acting like it.”

I scoffed at the words. “A favor?  Sorry, but it’s hard to see your gracious benevolence at the moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His features pinched, his nostrils flaring.  

“You’re kind of a jerk.”

“Well, you sure didn’t think that last night when I was putting that ring on your finger,” he said, his voice smarmy.  

“I was drunk,” I repeated.  It was a valid enough excuse, right?

“Look, it’s over.  Can we please stop arguing and get on the road?”

My lips parted as I spun to stare at him again. “Are you actually suggesting we continue with this plan?”

He drew his chin back to his chest.  “Are you actually trying to back out?  What is this? Some kind of shakedown for more money?’

“No,” I answered with a shake of my head.  “I don’t want your money.  I want a divorce.”

“Tough luck, babe.  I am not going for that.”

“Why not?  Go marry one of your models,” I said, heat entering my voice.

“I told you last night…if that was an option, I would have.”

I crossed my arms, huffing out a sigh.  “I don’t see how it’s not.  Any of them would jump at the chance, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.  My life would be a living hell as they pump me for more and more money to keep quiet.  I nearly got sued for emotional distress when I didn’t call one back.  Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson there.”

I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “How do you know I won’t do that?”

“Because you said you had honor and integrity.  And based on what I saw last night, you do.”  He skirted the bed, closing the distance between us with a cocky swagger that I was certain he used on almost every woman he’d ever met.  “Or was I wrong about that?”

I pressed my lips together, rolling my eyes as I refused to look at him.  

“Lila?  Do you not have honor and integrity?  Are you going to back out of the deal we made?”  His tone softened, grating on me even more than the arrogant one he’d just had.  He held out the rings in his palm, one eyebrow arching.  

I fluttered my eyelashes. He wasn’t wrong, and I hated that he knew it. Honor and integrity were the only things I had left to hold onto.

Plus, the ten percent would more than cover my embarrassment.  Not to mention the embarrassment after I’d made that social media post if this all went to ruin in less than twenty-four hours.  

I snatched the rings from his hand.  “Don’t ever speak to me like that again,” I warned.  

I’d go through with what I’d promised.  I’d just have to be sure I never made this mistake again after I was out of this.

Chapter 2

Miles

The wind tousled my hair as I pushed for more speed from my Lamborghini’s engine.  The engine purred beneath me, a perfect machine.  I wished I could say the same for my life right now.

We’d gotten a later start than I’d hoped thanks to our argument over our marriage.  I hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come.  

I needed this if I had any hope of taking what was mine in Hawthorne Media. 

I slid my gaze sideways, eyeing my new wife.  She sat quietly in the passenger seat, her features a little pinched, more fixated on the passing scenery than anything else.  At least she’d agreed to continue this charade.  

How long would that last, though?  Who was this man she wanted to stick it to?

It didn’t matter.  I couldn’t care less who it was.  I just needed Lila to play a role for me until I had my board seat, my voting shares, and all the rest of the trappings.  

If she bailed, I was back to square one, and with a divorce under my belt.

I’d never hear the end of it, and any marriage I ended up in later would be scrutinized.  I couldn’t afford to screw this up. 

Lila seemed capable enough to pull this off.  It had been the reason I’ve jumped in with both feet so readily.  There’d been something different about her, a connection I hadn’t felt with anyone else before.

Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like I was in love, or even anything close to it.  Love was…chaotic.  There were sparks, but it wasn’t fleeting and unreliable.  I’d proven that over and over with every relationship I’d had in the past.  

This was just…necessity.  

And I hoped I could trust her to play her part convincingly.

As I reminded myself of how much this meant, I glanced sideways again. “You know, this has to all look real, right?”

The annoyed glance she gave me made me worry that my brilliant plan was about to go down in flames.  “And I suppose you have some instructions you’d like to give me.”

“Do I need to give you instructions?” Was she serious?  Had she never been in love before?  

“Well, I suppose if you have something specific you want, you had better.”  The sharpness of her voice made me frown.  

“Come on, Lila, you can’t be serious.  Just…be the devoted wife.  You know…look at me adoringly, say nice things about me, that kind of thing.”

“I think you picked the wrong girl for this,” she answered.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I retorted. 

“It means if you wanted a Stepford wife, you probably should have married one of your models who you are actually attracted to.”

Ouch.  She was still mad about that comment.  It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty.  She was–in a simple sort of way.  

But I wasn’t used to women like her.  The ones I usually dated probably looked completely different once they lost their hair extensions, false eyelashes, fake nails, and half a dozen other fake things.  I wouldn’t know because I never saw the real them.  

What was so wrong with being attracted to a woman who was willing to put in the time to enhance her looks?

Lila, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be wearing much makeup at all. She didn’t have heels that would give her a nosebleed or fake nails, and I was pretty sure that was all her hair.  

“Look, I’m not saying that, just…you know, try to pretend you actually like me.”

“I’ll do my best.”  She flicked her gaze back to the scenery.  “Might need to dig deep for my Emmy-award-winning acting skills.”

Oof.  This was going well so far.  If I defined well as a dumpster fire being live-streamed on the internet.  

Visions of my marriage melting down in the public’s eye flashed through my mind along with my gloating half-brother’s face as he took over Hawthorne Media.  

“Look, I know you’re annoyed with me, but this is important.”

“Yes, I know,” she answered, still refusing to look at me, “you really want that money.”

“No,” I said, my voice a little sharp as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my foot pressing the accelerator a little harder.  “That’s not what this is about.”

She finally twisted to glance at me.  “Oh?  I thought you said this was about claiming your inheritance.”

“I did.  But it’s not just a trust fund, okay?”

“So, what’s it about?” she prodded.

I flicked my gaze sideways, my forehead creasing.  Something about the way the sun caught the natural highlights in her hair and the way the wind tousled it around her delicate features caught my attention–or more like commanded it. She looked nothing like the carefully curated beauty I usually surrounded myself with, and for a moment, that felt... refreshing. Dangerous territory.

It was like I was seeing her for the first time.  I shook my head, returning my gaze to the road stretching ahead, painted by the sun as it lowered in the sky.  Whatever. It didn’t matter.  “Never mind.”

“You want me to play the adoring wife, but you won’t give me any details at all?”

“You don’t need them,” I argued. 

“Fine.” She threw her hands in the air, turning away from me.  “Because that’s normal for a newlywed couple.  If anyone asks me anything, I’ll just say, ‘I don’t know.  Miles doesn’t tell me anything.  He just married me for the money.’”

My nostrils flared as I heaved a sigh at how easily she had stripped me bare and called me on my crap.  

“All right, fine,” I said, “it’s not just money.  It’s voting shares and a board seat.  My half-brother, Dominic, is already married, so he’ll get his right away.  Now, did you understand any of that?”

Annoyance edged my tone as I spoke, adding the last jab to try to wrangle control back in the conversation.

“Yes, of course, I did.  I’m not an idiot, Miles.”

“Oh?  Well, explain it then.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Your half-brother will already get his board seat and voting shares which means he can drastically influence the direction of the company while you have no say in it.”

My features went slack for a moment as I realized how clever she was.  She had not only understood what was at stake, but why it was important to me.  

It disarmed me more than it should have, but I quickly raised my walls back up.  I didn’t need her to be my friend.  I just needed her to be my fake wife.  

At least we were on the same page.  Maybe this would work after all. 

I wanted to hope, but it was too soon to tell.  A lot had to come together.  I tightened my grip on the wheel.  I needed it to happen or I’d be out on my ear.  

The thought of my brother's smug face as he swept me right out of Hawthorne media made my nostrils flare as sweat slicked my skin. He'd already been subtly undermining my position with the board even before Uncle Jason's will was read.

Mile after mile slipped by as I left Las Vegas behind, heading toward our swanky digs in Westcliffe. I’d expected my return home to be triumphant, but it didn’t feel that way at all.   

As I pulled into the winding driveway, my palms damp against the wheel, I second-guessed my brilliant plan.  

A fake wife had seemed like the bold move I’d needed to conquer this situation.  It was smart and safe.  

No messy entanglements, no problems with a surprise divorce, nothing that would ruin my chance to grab hold of that inheritance.  And after the waiting period and all of the red tape which shouldn’t take more than a year, we could quietly divorce.  

But now, with my sprawling childhood home looming in front of me, I wondered if this was the best idea.  

I swallowed hard as I brought the car to a stop outside of the double doors.  I had to do this, I reminded myself.  

I needed to be in the same place as Dominic.  I needed a wife to claim my inheritance.  And now I had one.  She seemed intelligent.  We could do this.  

The only difficult part was we didn’t exactly have a trusting relationship.  I was relying on her to pull this off, to not extort me for more money, to make this convincing, and to walk away when it was all over.

That was a pretty tall list for a girl I’d met at the bar only last night.  But I had to stay confident in my own decisions. I had to trust myself.  

So, I climbed from the car, slamming the door closed as I glanced up at the house.  It had never seemed so foreboding.

Before I could round the car and open the door for Lila, she pushed it open herself, and climbed out.

“Hey,” I protested, something inside me bothered by the fact that she hadn’t waited for me, “don’t do that.”

She froze, her hand on the open car door. “Changed your mind?”

“No,” I shot back, my hands on my hips as I approached her. “But you should wait for me to open the door for you.  It looks better, you know?  Like I’m your husband.”

“Right, and we’re all about appearances.”

“Hey, will you tone it down a notch? I’m about to introduce you to the family, and I’d like them to actually believe that we could be married.”

Her features softened a little as she fluttered her eyelashes.  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I bobbed my head.  “You just need to remember to act like I’m your husband, you know?”

She slammed her door closed.  “Sorry, my last boyfriend let me open my own doors.”

“Well, I don’t.  I was brought up a gentleman.  I don’t want to hear about it from my mother.  And I’m sorry your last boyfriend was a jerk.” I grinned at her as I offered her my arm.

I expected a roll of her rather pretty green eyes, but instead she actually smiled a little.  It lit up her face, and I wondered what she looked like when she was truly happy.  “You and me both.”

The comment struck me, but now wasn’t the time for me to delve into it.  I had bigger things to deal with, like convincing my family that Lila and I were in love.

We stepped into the expansive foyer, our shoes echoing on the marble floor that stretched under the Italian crystal chandelier that graced the space.  

To me it was home, but the way Lila’s lips parted, her eyes drawn up the sweeping staircase, I realized it must seem foreign to her.  I hoped she could handle it.  

“Wait here,” I said.  “Don’t move.  And for the love of everything, don’t talk to anyone.”

She nodded, quietly agreeing to my terms.  

I checked my watch.  At this time of the day, my mother would be reviewing her charity work in the sunroom with a cup of tea.  I made my way toward the space, my heart hammering against my ribs.  

I hated lying to my mother, but it was necessary.  I hovered in the open double doors, eyeing her across the room.  In the afternoon’s sunlight, she was the picture of high society wealth.  

With the heavy gold pen in her hand, she marked up her notes, approving some things, obliterating others in the way only Sable Hawthorne could.  

I gave a soft knock on the door.  She flicked her gaze to me, pulling off her glasses as a smile spread across her features. “Miles.  There you are, darling.  Morrison said you hadn’t slept in your bed last night. I was worried.”

She rose, spreading her arms, and I crossed to her, dutifully kissing her cheek before I hugged her.  “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you?” She pulled back, cupping my cheeks in her hands.  “You look tired.”

“Well, I was out a little late.  Celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” She arched an eyebrow.  “Celebrating what?  With Uncle Jason’s will laid out, I didn’t think you would be much in the mood.”

I offered her a sly smile.  “Oh, I’m very much in the mood.  I have some news.”

She pouted, disappointment etched across her features. “Oh, please don’t tell me we’ll have to work out another arrangement with the police like we did after last New Year’s Eve.”

“No, Mom,” I said, my voice a little annoyed.  “That’s not the news.”

“Well, what is it, darling?” 

I let my smile spread a little wider.  “I got married.”

I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.  She didn’t seem as thrilled as I hoped.  “Oh, Miles,” she whispered, her eyes wide.  “How far along is she?”

“What?  No,” I said with a shake of my head.  “She’s not pregnant.”

My mother collapsed into her chair, a hand pressed against her expensive silk blouse.  “Thank heavens.  That would have been far worse to deal with.  But no matter.  How much will she take to disappear?”

“No, Mom, I’m not divorcing her.  I…love her.” I hoped that sounded convincing, but the words stuck in my throat.  

My mother fluttered her eyelashes. “You love her?  Oh, heavens.”  

“Mom, stop.  This is a good thing.  I’m happy.  And now there’s nothing holding me back with Uncle Jason’s will.”

She froze, flicking her dark brown eyes up to me as she narrowed them.  “Yes,” she said, the word slow and drawn out.  “But only if this marriage is sound.  You do understand that, don’t you?  If there is any question–even if it is that she would not make a suitable partner given your inheritance–it won’t work.”

I flicked my eyebrows up, glad I hadn’t married one of those vapid models who wouldn’t have lasted a week.  “Oh, don’t worry, Mom.  This one’s a keeper.”

I backed toward the door, holding a finger in the air. As my feet hit the hall, I hurried back to collect Lila.  

As I dragged her down the hall, I kept my voice low.  “I told my mother.  If we get her on our side, we’ll be golden.  Smile, but not too much. And remember, you love me.”

I slid my arm around her waist as we reached the doors. My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. Make or break. And as I pushed the doors open, I couldn’t help but wonder—had I just secured my future, or signed my own death warrant?

Want to see how it all begins?  Continue the story here.

Sable has always preferred the truth told quietly.

This room holds her version of events—the thoughts she never says out loud, the observations she keeps to herself, and the moments that shaped her long before anyone else noticed

If you want to understand Hawthorne House, start here.

Download the free novella from Sable’s point of view.

Listen to Sable’s introduction, a short audio moment from her point of view.