The Dying Billionaire's Secret Contract Wife

From the back cover

I stood in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, clutching a crystal flute of champagne that felt like a lead weight. It was my engagement party, the night I was supposed to be the happiest woman in New York.

Then my phone buzzed with a link that shattered everything. I watched a video of my fiancé, Jed, tangled in the arms of my roommate while he laughed about how I was just a "boring, safe little girl" he needed to tolerate until my family's stock transfer went through.

When I confronted him and walked out, I thought the nightmare was over, but my own father called me in a rage. He didn't care that I’d been betrayed; he only cared that the merger was the only thing keeping him from bankruptcy. He froze my bank accounts and left me with exactly forty-two dollars to my name.

Jed started sending me threats, promising to leak private videos to the press if I didn't come back to him. I was penniless, homeless, and being hunted by a man who wanted to destroy my soul.

Desperate, I took the only deal left on the table: a contract marriage to Hardin Hunter, a reclusive billionaire heir with terminal heart failure. The deal was simple: ten million dollars to be a "nurse with a ring" for six months until he passed away.

I signed the papers and moved into his gothic manor, expecting to wait for a heart to stop beating. But when Hardin pinned me against a wall, his grip like iron and his pulse thundering with a strength no dying man should possess, I realized the "dying" heir was a lie.

"You're not dying," I whispered, feeling the raw power of his heart against my hand.

Hardin just looked at me with eyes like molten glass and said, "I might be a monster, Elsie, but I'm the only one who can keep you alive."