Jameson Martin was the presidential candidate who needed a wife. I needed a way out of debt. The moment I agreed to be his pretend fiancée, all our problems should have been solved. Instead, things got complicated. Publicly, we were the picture of patriotic perfection. Privately, we struggled with the one thing that wasn’t in our plan – more. I didn’t realize how lonely my life was until Jameson filled it with everything I was missing. His passionate commitment to public service earned my vote; his icy blue gaze and the way he gave me a purpose stole my heart. But I wanted to be his partner, not his secret. And I wanted the one thing that Jameson struggled to give me – his heart.
Author
I was first indoctrinated into the romance genre by my babysitter who watched hours upon hours of daytime soap operas. I harbored many inappropriate crushes on fictional characters such as John Black from “Days of Our Lives,” Orry Main from the min-series “North & South,” and Edward Fairfax Rochester from Jane Eyre. I am still in love with Davy Jones from The Monkees. I currently live in the Southwest with my husband, tiny four-year-old terror, and a tuxedo cat with a limp. When I'm not swooning over book boyfriends or dreaming up romances, I can be found educating the youth of America. Or eating tacos
