Every girl dreams of falling in love with a prince.

When I met Jeremy, I thought he was my prince

Caring. Compassionate. Sensitive.

And, unfortunately for me, not attracted to women.

So here I am, thirty years old and divorced when most of my
friends are just getting married. In desperate need of a restart, I set off on
a road trip to learn how to love myself again.

The last thing I expected was to meet him.

Anderson North.

Mysterious. Enigmatic. Sexy as hell.

And, after a malfunction with my rental car, my new road
companion.

Can I give this man a piece of my heart after having it
broken?

Can I learn to trust again after having that trust betrayed?

When he reveals his deepest secret, can I look beyond the lies and toward the
only thing that matters?

I’ve always dreamed of finding my very own Prince Charming.

Maybe my prince is Anderson North.

“Car trouble?”

A voice comes out of nowhere, startling me. I straighten and
smack my head into the hood.

“Crap,” I hiss out as I rub the sore spot.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, gorgeous.”

If the accent weren’t a dead giveaway regarding the owner of
the voice, the nickname confirms it. Stepping back, my eyes lock onto
Anderson’s, a sexy smirk on his lips.

“What’s wrong with your car?”

“It wouldn’t start a few minutes ago. When it finally did,
it wouldn’t go over twenty-five miles an hour.”

He gestures toward the engine. “Mind if I take a look?”

“You know something about cars?”

“I can get by.”

I step away, allowing him to take a look under my hood.

The car’s hood. Not my hood.

He bends down, toying with different parts of the engine. My
heart rate increases as I watch him check the oil, grease getting on his hands.
There’s something oddly erotic about watching a man as handsome as Anderson
working on a car, the corded muscles in his forearms straining, his brow
creased in confusion.

His broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his shirt, and I’m
able to make out the defined muscles of his back. When his t-shirt lifts, it
reveals a sliver of olive-toned skin. I wonder if he has that little V at his
waist all women seem to lose their minds over. In my fantasy, he most certainly
does.

In my fantasy, I even lick the ridges of that V, all the way
to his—

“Nothing looks off,” he comments, facing me.

I inhale a sharp breath, his sudden movement taking me by
surprise.

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.” His voice oozes with sin as he advances
toward me.

With each step he takes, I take one in retreat, my heart
pounding in my chest.

When my back hits the side of a Jeep Wrangler parked a few
spots from mine, I pray the owner doesn’t choose this second to need his car.

“Nora…,” he exhales, angling closer.

I inhale his intoxicating scent, a combination of the ocean
and fresh rain. “Yes?”

“You…”

“Yes?”

He draws near, his lips skimming mine. “Need to move.”

His words snap me out of my trance.

“I need to get into the glove box.” He nods at the Jeep
behind me. “That’s my car.”

“Oh. Right.”