Author: Angelina M. Lopez
Series: Filthy Rich, #2
Length: 416 pages
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Imprint: Carina Press
eBook On-Sale: June 29, 2020
eBook ISBN & Price: 9781488057052, $3.99 U.S.
MMP On-Sale: June 30, 2020
MMP ISBN & Price: 9781335459503, $8.99 U.S.
A fake relationship could help
Princesa Sofia save her kingdom. Only problem: She’ll have to fake it with the
man who broke her heart.
Ten years ago, wild child Princesa Sofia Maria Isabel de
Esperanza y Santos fell in fast crazy love with heartbreaker Aish Salinger
during one California harvest season. Now, all grown up and with the future of
her kingdom on her shoulders, she hates him as passionately as she once loved
him.
Even if her body hasn’t gotten the hate memo.
Faking a relationship with the now-famous rock star for the
press and public will ensure the success of her new winery and prosperity of
her kingdom. All she has to do is grit her teeth and bear his tattooed presence
in her village and winery—her home—for a month.
Trying to recover from his own scandal, fallen superstar
Aish Salinger jumps at the chance to be near Sofia again. Leaving her was the
biggest mistake he’s ever made, and he’s waited ten years to win her back.
He never counted on finding a woman who despised him so much
she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
A war of wills breaks out as the princess and rock star
battle to control their fake relationship. She wants to dictate every action to
keep him away from her. He wants to be as close as he can be. She’s already
lost so much because of Aish—e won’t be the reason her people lose even more.
But he also won’t make her break her life’s most important
vow: To never fall in love again.
Read Filthy Rich Book One, Lush Money, available
now from Carina Press!
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Aish pulled the bud out of his ear and straightened, never
taking his eyes off her as he held it out. When she took the bud from him, she
let her fingers linger. His fingertips were warm and that tiny touch sent a
frisson down her arm.
She unwrapped the headphones from around her neck and
stuffed them into her back pocket. But she didn’t move back.
“I’m a musician,” he said, voice low.
“I know.”
A corner of his mouth went up. “What else do you know?”
That he made every millimeter of her skin buzz. That he
smelled like boy and sweat and ocean salt. She hated the nose-clogging scent of
cologne. There was nothing fake about the way this boy smelled.
She pulled her long braid over her shoulder and tugged on
it. “You’re from LA, your father designs clothes, your mother is a famous
fitness instructor. Y…you’re very good at surfing, singing, partying,
working harder on less sleep than everyone else and…oh, sí, ménage à
trois.”
Shock, mortification, and humor created a palette across his
expressive face. “Who said I’m good at threesomes?”
Sofia ran a hand down her braid and shrugged, all Spanish
cool. “No sé. I keep my nose to myself. It’s everyone else who talks.”
When he grinned this time, he looked like he might lean down
and taste her. “And what does everyone say about you?”
Sofia worked to maintain her smile. She wanted to be no one
to nobody. She wanted to have nothing said about her. But even if she’d lived a
cloistered life in a high tower, her story would be marred with her parents’
dramas and affairs and fights, ugly public episodes that stripped Sofia of
dignity without her involvement. And Princesa Sofia hadn’t lived a cloistered
life. Maintaining her dignity hadn’t been high on her list when she’d mooned
the crowd from atop a Semana Santa float in Cádiz or when she’d waved drunkenly
to the paparazzi from a movie star’s hotel balcony when she was supposed to be
presented to the Queen of England. She’d been neither drunk nor sleeping with
the star. But her humiliated mother had abandoned the duke’s bedroom she’d been
occupying to drag Sofia back to the Monte.
She didn’t want to think about her scandalous past. She
didn’t want to think about the demands of her future. All Sofia wanted right
now was to be a dirty, half-naked girl wrapped around a beautiful boy in a wine
tank.
“I know some stuff about you,” Aish said quietly.
Sofia focused on the air in front of his face and ran her
hand down her braid.
“Your name’s Sofia. That’s…really fucking pretty.” He hadn’t
said Princess Sofia. He hadn’t said Sofia de
Esperanza y Santos. Just Sofia. And he thought it was
pretty. She focused again on his eyes.
“You’ve got a great accent.” The air between them felt like
it was warming up. “You like grunt work, which is so hot it kinda hurts.”
Nothing about her royal status. Nothing about her
reputation. He’d just arrived; perhaps none of the interns had told him about
the princess in their midst. Perhaps his uncle had just said, “Make sure the
new intern hasn’t passed out. Her name is Sofia.”
“You’re not wearing a bra.” Her mouth opened at that,
surprised, as his eyed gripped shut. “I noticed and if you noticed I noticed,
I’m sorry ’cause I don’t want you to think I’m a total fucking creeper and
scare you away…”
“I don’t think you’re a creeper,” she said, reaching to
brush her fingers over his clenched fist. Her breasts were so small she seldom
wore a bra. But this boy acted like they were an irresistible temptation.
Aish opened his eyes. “Are you for real?”
Sofia smiled up at him, feeling helpless and foolish and
floating.
“I mean, am I having some weird acid flashback?” His urgency
seemed to express that it was a real possibility.
“Wouldn’t I be having one, too?” she asked. “And I’ve never
done acid.”
“No, no.” He was a lit fuse aimed in her direction. “This
could be my own personal hallucination. Because, what the fuck. My uncle tells
me to go check on the new intern and inside a tank is a kick-ass, bare-skinned
fairy girl listening to elf music. I feel like I’m tripping. Am I?”
With amazement beaming from her, Sofia shook her head.
He reacted like she’d punched him. “Fuck. Your smile. Can I
kiss you?”
Copyright © 2020 by Angelina M. Lopez
About the author:
Angelina M. Lopez wrote "arthur" when her
kindergarten teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. In the
years since she learned to spell the word correctly, she's been a journalist
for an acclaimed city newspaper, a freelance magazine writer, and a content
marketer for small businesses. Finally, she found her way back to "author."
Angelina writes sexy, contemporary stories about strong
women and the confident men lucky enough to fall in love with them. The fact
that her parents own a vineyard in California’s Russian River Valley might
imply a certain hedonism about her; it's not true. She's a wife and a mom who
lives in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. She makes to-do lists with perfectly
drawn check boxes. She checks them with glee.
You can find more about her at her website,
AngelinaMLopez.com.
Connect with Angelina M. Lopez
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