Wasted, covered in glitter, and wearing the ugliest dress in existence. Also known as: me, the night I stumble into bed with a Fairfield. Cohen isn't my type. Not even a little. I mean, other than his legendary family genes, and a smirk that leaves me as breathless as it does enraged.
One night. That's all I want. Then daylight comes, and all I want is to forget him. There's just one problem: that night was too incredible to black out. Actually, there are two problems. Now my sister wants me to be her surrogate. To carry her child. To be pregnant. But, as luck would have it . . . I already am.
* * *
Wasted, hungover, in that dress or out of it: there's not a single version of Juliet I don't find beautiful. Including knocked-up.
I'm a joker. I'm immature. She's got a long list of reasons why I'm not her type. But thank God for hormones: now she needs something. Bad. And I can give it to her, in about a hundred different ways.
I promise her our arrangement will stay purely physical. I'm a liar.
