The Wedding Date Disaster

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 walks 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 Grady Holt. He's awful. Horrible. The worst—even if his butt looks phenomenal in those jeans. Ten times worse? I told my family I was bringing my boyfriend with me...Now I have to spend the week pretending to be madly in love with the big jerk. Ugh, and share a bedroom. It's only gonna be a week. I can last that long without killing him or blowing my cover. Maybe. A whisper of a prayer. Oh God, this...