Have you ever been kissed so deeply that the brain cells melted right out of your head?

I have. Once. And it just happened. That can be the only explanation as to why I'm headed to my friend's wedding with a fake husband in tow.

Let me back up.

I ducked into an adorable little town for some liquid courage on my way to the weekend I'd been dreading for months. Unfortunately, some of my college frenemies got there before me. After listening to them drone on about how my ex-boyfriend was bringing his perfect fiancée to the wedding, I downed one more shot of tequila and made a beeline for the door.

That's when I found myself corralled into the arms of Nix Fuller—former Chicago hockey star and the man who almost inhaled me with his mouth before telling everyone I wasn't attending the wedding alone. That he was my plus one. That he was, in fact... my husband.

It should've ended there. One fiery kiss. One wild story. But when the mean girls' faces flooded with jealousy as their eyes devoured my fake husband's mouthwatering body, I heard myself confirming his brazen lie. Sure. Why not? Yep, this Adonis-like man is my husband.

So that's where we are. I either come clean and embarrass myself in front of the people who made my college years a living hell, or I dive headfirst into the role of the happy fake wife. I mean, it's only for three days. What could possibly go wrong?