One little white lie—that's all it took. Now I'm suddenly having to fake-date my work nemesis to get through a week at a Vermont Christmas lodge with my family. The problem? I can't stand Miles Taylor. Not only that, but I don't date people I work with. But I can handle it. I've had practice faking my emotions for years. So it shouldn't matter that Miles never lets me get away with anything. And that he happens to boil my blood hotter than a steaming pot of wassail. So when he throws his annoying grin my way or forces me on dates he knows I'll hate, I'll just grit my teeth and smile. Or maybe not. Did I mention that Miles is the one person in the world I can't seem to fool? When my emotions begin feeling less like a sham and his arms feel way too comfortable, it makes me think that maybe Miles had a plan of his own. And I'm starting to like it a lot more than mine.