BLURB:

We made a deal: one perfect kiss, then we'd go our separate ways.

Colin Davis knocked my brother out in a dark parking lot, saving me from a painful family reunion. After it all settled down, he kissed me good night like I was the only thing keeping him anchored. Like he wanted to stay. But I don't do stay. I do one and done, and if he did anything more than kiss me, I'm afraid I might never be done.

Thank god he left for San Francisco in the morning.

Three days later, I'm at one of my best friends' surprise Vegas wedding. But the surprise is on me, he's part of the wedding party as well. Colin, looking at me like those three days didn't erase the kiss, and he's been thinking about it as much as I have.

We decide on one lost weekend—an extended one and done—and we go back to our lives. No promises. No future. Just fun, Vegas, and whatever happens in the next 48 hours.

Except when we get home, Courtney hands me a marriage certificate. And I remember being there. I just don't remember saying, "I do."

Neither of us remembers getting married. We were drunk, we were happy, we were together—and apparently, an Elvis impersonator made it official. It's funny. It's surreal. But when his Gran overhears me freaking out, it becomes a disaster.

Colin's 92-year-old grandmother is thrilled. My best friends won't stop laughing about the joint Elvis wedding. And now I'm married to a man I've known for three days and possibly a past lifetime.

Waking up married in Vegas is a cliché. Waking up married to him is a disaster.