I first met Ethan Carson when I was ten.

One look and I knew he was trouble.

He could charm you with his striking blue eyes, his killer smile, and a face that was made for Hollywood. But look closer and you’ll see the devil incarnate who was always a breath away from juvie.

To say we were mortal enemies growing up is an understatement.

I avoided him then, and I continue to do so now, even though he’s a cop—who would have thought?

My avoidance tactics worked until the day I needed him.

I took one tiny trip to Vegas, where we ended up drinking far too much.

Big mistake-as in the mother of all mistakes.

We woke up the next morning in bed!

And neither of us can remember what happened.

But wait, it gets worse. So much worse.

That’s not the only thing we did.

The come-to-Jesus moment hits when I see the wedding ring on my finger.

We got married!

I married the devil.

Of course, I want this craziness fixed—ended—returned to the world where I’m not his Mrs.

But he wants us to stay together because he has other ideas.

When he makes me an offer I can’t refuse, I might be desperate enough to accept.

I just hope I don’t lose more than I bargained for in this outlandish scheme.

Like my heart.

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