He’ll protect his best friend’s baby sister from anything…other than himself.
Wildest Dreams, an all-new enemies-to-lovers, best friend’s little sister, billionaire romance from New York Times bestselling author L.J. Shen, is now available!
RhylandDylan Casablancas is a forbidden fruit,
Undeniably delicious, but one bite just might kill you.
She’s my best friend’s baby sister, a single mom, and a royal pain in the ass.
When Little Miss Baggage moves downstairs to house-sit her brother’s Manhattan apartment, my potential business partner mistakes us as a couple.
He wants a family guy.
I want access to his billions.
And Dylan?
She needs a big, burly guy to scare off her loser ex.
Pretending to be engaged to the feisty girl next door gets messy when I take a bite of the illicit apple.
What can I say? I’m an instant gratification kind of guy.
We made a deal to walk out of each other’s lives once my contract is signed.
The only problem?
She might take my heart with her when she leaves.
Dylan
Rhyland Coltridge is out of the question.
Unless the answer is: “Who’s the biggest man-whore you’ve ever met?”
Hedonistic. Wild card. Utterly corrupt.
And those are just the traits the jerk prides himself on.
My life is too messy for a boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t, Rhyland would be the last man I’d consider.
He is supposed to be my ticket out of this nightmare.
But he’s fast becoming my wildest, most dangerous dream.
Author’s note: This is an enemies-to-lovers, fake engagement standalone with an alpha hero and a feisty heroine. Please check trigger warnings before reading.
Available in eBook, Audio, and Paperback
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Keep reading and take a look inside Wildest Dreams!
Blinking away the tears, I stumbled toward the figure holding my child. More specifically, the man suspending her by the ankles, gently shaking her body as if she were a newly torn piñata. “Where’s the candy?” His deep, dark drawl rumbled. No baby talk for him. “I know you have some. Don’t play.”
“I don’t!” Gravity giggled, trying to kick the air, arms flailing. “I ate it all on the way here.”
Snitch.
“I suppose I’ll just have to eat you then.”
Another fit of giggles. “Nooo, Uncle Rhyrand. Mommy won’t let you! She woves me!”
My heart finally slowed. I wiped my clammy hands on my sweatshirt, feigning nonchalance as I joined them on the sidewalk.
Them being my daughter and Rhyland Coltridge.
Rhyland Coltridge being my brother’s best friend.
A man-whore.
A cocky bastard who knew he was God’s best creation to date.
A debauched, selfish piece of work clad in a Prada suit.
Too bad that piece of work was a masterpiece.
Rhyland put the “fun” in “dysfunctional.” He was a menace who got a free pass for all his faults through his striking exterior. His princely features included six feet and four inches of bronze, taut, flawlessly muscled body, gold-spun hair the color of an endless wheat field, and eyes as green and bright as the shiniest emeralds. Everything about him, from his cruelly sharp jawline, cartoonishly high cheekbones, and full lips to his straight nose, screamed perfection.
And we hated each other.
Actually, he couldn’t muster enough shits to have any kind of strong feelings about me or anyone else. It was one of the reasons I detested him. He was living, breathing proof that you could live with no heart inside your chest.
“Hello, Rhyland.” I strode toward him, putting my fake bravado on like it was a fancy hat.
“Hello, fuckup,” he parried tonelessly, hoisting my child onto his arm and leveling me with an acutely bored glance. He wore a coin pendant on a plain black chain on his neck. Still. He’d been carrying that shit around since we were practically teens. I would ask what it meant, but I’d never really cared.
“Watch your mouth in front of my child,” I warned him coolly.
“Mommy said ‘fuck’ in the car,” Gravity provided cheerfully, giggling.
Traitor.
“It’s called wishful thinking, kid.” Rhyland flashed a predatory canine smile that made my bones freeze a little.
He wasn’t pretty-boy sexy. He was half-Viking, half-Hozier sexy.
The honking intensified into one long blare that just kept on going. We both ignored it.
Rhyland gave me a withering look. “Pull yourself together, Casablancas. Your kid could’ve died.” He sneered. “While you’re at it, take her back. I’m not a babysitter.”
That was all it took for me to officially and finally lose it.
For more information about L.J. Shen and her books, visit her here:
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