I write fake relationships for a living. I never thought I'd end up in one with the boy I've loved since I was twelve.

Being a romance author means I understand love, right? Unfortunately, some of my readers disagree. Apparently my couples have no chemistry, and now my latest manuscript is a mess. It doesn't help that my own romantic life is nonexistent. Probably because I've spent the last fifteen years hopelessly in love with Peter Stone.

Peter is my cousin's best friend and my childhood crush. He's the inspiration behind more fictional heroes than I'd ever admit. The problem? He's also spent the last few years traveling the world with his friends, building a travel app, and showing absolutely no interest in settling down.

Then he climbs through my bedroom window in the middle of the night with a proposition. His app needs someone to beta test its new couples feature. He needs a fake girlfriend—and he wants me.

One impulsive plane ride later, I'm at a tropical resort pretending to be on my honeymoon with the man I've always wanted. There are romantic excursions, jealous mermaids, hand-holding, and kisses that feel way too real for something that's supposed to be pretend.

I know better than to believe I'm finally getting my happily ever after. But the longer we pretend, the harder it is to remember where the story ends and real life begins.

And if I'm not careful, Peter Stone might break the heart he's owned since I was twelve.