When a gorgeous cop comes racing out of a building on Fifth Avenue, hops in your horse-drawn carriage, and screams, “Go!”—you go.
You don’t stop and ask for paperwork. Or a badge. Or an explanation of who you’re chasing. You simply follow his shouted orders and try not to kill anyone in the process.
At least, that’s what I did when it happened to me.
But then it turns out that the “cop” is none other than Roman Burke, Hollywood’s hottest star, and our little joyride gets me fired. Now I’m broke, my horse has been evicted from her barn, and I’ve got nowhere to turn.
When you accidentally hijack a Central Park carriage to escape the paparazzi, get pulled over by the police, and your crisis manager insists you lay low for a while, you nod your head and go.
And when the cute carriage driver shows up on your front step, horse in tow, blaming you for losing his job, you agree to fix it. Even if that means hauling both him and his horse along with you on your Vermont getaway.
At least that’s what I did when it happened to me.
Unfortunately, trouble seems to stick to the sexy carriage driver like hot syrup on a hotter waffle, making my Vermont retreat anything but quiet.
Now the carriage driver is in my bed, unexpected guests are crawling out of the woodwork, and the paparazzi is on my tail. With chaos and scandal swarming around me, suddenly, it isn’t just my career on the line.
It’s my heart.