Bet Me

"The only thing more humiliating than a guy falling asleep face-down in my crotch would be if he died there... Oh my god, is he DEAD?"

All I wanted was little old-fashioned romance. After a parade of Tinder disasters who think chivalry is giving me a pearl necklace on the first date, I made a pledge: until guys step up their game, this girl is off the market. But one bottle of chardonnay later, and my drunken rant has gone viral. I’m the most famous person NOT having sex since the Jonas Brothers put on their purity rings. A men’s magazine has even put a bounty on my (ahem) maidenhead: fifty Gs to whoever makes me break the drought.

Be careful what you wish for...

Now my office looks like an explosion in a Hallmark factory, I’ve got guys lining up to sweep me off my feet - and the one man I want is most definitely off-limits. Jake Weston is a player through and through. He’s also the only one who sees through the mayhem to the real me, but how can I trust he’s not just out to claim the glory? And how will I make it through the strike without scratching the itch - especially when that itch looks so damn good out of his suit?