Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills...

Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and just signed an unbreakable contract that shackles me to his pompous royal side for the summer.

But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.

But then the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.

One minute we’re fighting—and the next—we can't keep our hands off each other. Somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.

And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.