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A hot rebound is just what any doctor would recommend for Eden McBride's broken heart after a brutal breakup. Not really. But it's what she needs. Liam Anderson is the perfect rebound guy. Dubbed the Three Months Prince because he's never with the same girl longer than three months, Liam's had his share of one night stands and doesn't expect Eden to be anything more than a hookup. When he wakes up and finds her gone along with his favourite denim shirt, Liam is irritated, but oddly intrigued. No woman has ever left his bed willingly or stole from him. Eden has done both. He needs to find her and make her account. But in a city with more than five million people, finding one person proves impossible, until fate brings them together again two years later. Eden is no longer the naive girl she was when she jumped into Liam's bed; she now has a secret to protect at all costs. Liam is determined to get everything Eden stole from him, and it's not just his denim shirt.


"Can someone please tell me why I left our perfectly comfortable couch to freeze my ass off here?" Eden McBride glared at her three friends waiting patiently in the queue with her. It's been over an hour, but the long line snaking its way around the block had barely moved. Out of all the hangouts in Rock Castle, they had to choose Crush, one of the most challenging clubs to get into, especially on the one weekend when the hottest DJ in town makes an appearance. "To help you get over the man whose name we won't mention!" Sienna, her best friend since primary school, said in a hushed tone. The clear plastic beads dangling on the ends of her long ombre braids chinked as she turned her head to match her death glare. On her 'bad' days, Sienna was cute. But on a good day, like tonight, she was smoking hot. The guys milling about, desperate to get inside like they were, clearly thought so too. They could barely peel their eyes from her. "Yeah, Eden, we've given you enough time to mope," Lydia chimed in as she snapped a quick selfie and posted it on her Instagram. Within seconds her phone pinged incessantly with notifications from millions of adoring fans. Lydia is a mega-successful YouTuber whose makeup videos have catapulted her to a goddess-like status on the internet. "The sooner you get back on the bike, the better," Cassandra added, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder as she pulled up the collar of her signature leather jacket. In the five or six years Eden's known her, she's never seen her in a dress. Not even once. For a self-proclaimed tomboy, Cassandra was effortlessly chic, and with her tall slim physique and delicate features, she could pull off any look. In their crew, Eden was the plainest, and she was okay with that. Her skin was so pale she could never get a tan no matter how long she stayed in the sun. She tried colouring her long mousey brown hair a few times, but the constant retouching got old real quick. Her most striking feature was her slanted, brown eyes. Pity, she had to hide them behind thick-lensed glasses because she was almost as blind as a bat without them. "He's moved on. You should do the same!" Lydia chimed in brutally. Subtlety was not her strong suit. Eden sighed and rolled her eyes. Her friends meant well. But, she was okay with spending her days and nights in front of the TV binging on carbs and terrible reality shows. She was cool with not brushing her hair or changing her clothes for days on end. She was happy to cry herself to sleep and wake up with a puffy face and swollen eyes. But she didn't want to be rushed through her grief. How could six weeks be enough to get over a lifetime of memories, of four years of happy moments and hopeful dreams, dashed in an instant? "If this stupid line doesn't move in the next two minutes, I'm leaving," she said and pulled her trench tighter, glad she had the foresight to wear it even when her friends wanted her to ditch it because it was 'ruining her whole aesthetic'. A Lamborghini screeched in front of the entrance, followed by a Ferrari and a Porsche. A group of men, as tall as the surrounding office towers and good looking enough to have walked straight out of a fashion magazine, jumped out of the three cars, threw their car keys at the valets, and made their way to the door.

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