What do you say when you wake up next to hockey’s biggest playboy with a ring on your finger?
The first time I met Dustin LeBlanc, I wanted to slap him. Young, rich, handsome, and talking smack about my profession, he was the walking stereotype of a speak-before-I-think hockey player.
The second time I ran into him, I was sad and he made me smile.
The third time, we got hitched.
His proposal took me by surprise, to say the least. But Dustin needed a marriage to save his image. As a bonus, it would put an end to my visa issues.
Thing is, now we’ve got to play like we’re truly married and in love. Turns out there’s this thing called marriage fraud and it can land you up to five years in prison if they catch you.
We’ll have no problem faking our way through this relationship, right?
Except every day we spend together, the more real our connection seems.
If only it wasn’t for those pesky skeletons hanging out in both of our closets.
And the twist that neither of us could have imagined coming.
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