Young in Love

I fake laugh every time I think about how ironic it is to be a commitment-phobe relationship therapist who is also the daughter of two world-renowned marriage and family counselors. Seriously, it's comical! Want to know how I messed up my life? Getting arrested for stealing a priceless artifact for a tearful client. Want to know what my biggest problem is? Spending my life teaching women how to break relationships when all I want to do is make a relationship—with him.

How one night turned into fifteen and counting is beyond me. I never imagined ending up here. I'm a Marriage Broker, not a matchmaker . . . Especially for myself! It was always a ruse. Perception, not reality. For a purpose, not for always. Business, not romance. Want to know my plan? A simple assist, a favor. Want to know my potential downfall? Him. His sincere eyes, his intoxicating smile, his scintillating personality. Oh, and our out-of-control chemistry.

A long time ago, I helped her. Little tips about what to wear, how to leave a man wanting more, ways to be sexy without being too obvious. The guy she'd wanted was wrong for her, though. Still, she'd wanted him anyway and ended up with a broken heart. But she wasn't the only one, because even after I'd made my own intentions known, she walked away. Now, she's back in town. Still beautiful, still intelligent, still funny, and ready to start over after a bad breakup from someone who never deserved her in the first place.

My mission in life is simple. Family. Food. Freedom. Most people don't question my love for my family. And I make my living as a celebrity chef. The freedom part? The thought of being confined-behind bars, at a desk, or in a monogamous relationship-is not something I want for myself. Unfortunately, it becomes a problem when women want to make me their Forever Bae. Even after I make it clear that I'm not looking for more than short interlude.

A lie can follow you to death. The first time my mother told me that, it didn't resonate. I'd made it a point to always tell the story that suited me in the moment. Truth or fiction. Except . . . I didn't count on the lies I told myself. Or the woman who held up the mirror so I could see them.