Marriage of Inconvenience

There are three things you need to know about Kat Tanner (aka Kathleen Tyson. . . and yes, she is *that* Kathleen Tyson): 1) She’s determined to make good decisions, 2) She must get married ASAP, and 3) She knows how to knit.
Being a billionaire heiress isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Determined to live a quiet life, Kat Tanner changed her identity years ago and eschewed her family’s legacy. But now, Kat’s silver spoon past has finally caught up with her, and so have her youthful mistakes.
To avoid imminent disaster, she must marry immediately; it is essential that the person she chooses have no romantic feelings for her whatsoever and be completely trustworthy. Fortunately, she knows exactly who to ask. Dan O’Malley checks all the boxes: single, romantically indifferent to her, completely trustworthy. Sure, she might have a wee little crush on Dan the Security Man, but with clear rules, expectations, and a legally binding contract, Kat is certain she can make it through this debacle with her sanity and heart all in one piece.
Except, what happens when Dan O’Malley isn’t as indifferent or as trustworthy as she thought?
"My sharp question earned me a sharp look from Ms. Opal. She eyed
me from across the room. Mouth pinched into a disapproving pucker, my coworker’s gaze lingered on the cell in my hand. Ms. Opal didn’t do this often send me disapproving looks just whenever I spoke too loudly. Or laughed. Or smiled. Or showed any emotion. None of which I did with any frequency. “Sorry,” I said to her, even though my sharp question hadn’t been directed to Ms. Opal. It had been directed to the person on the other side of my call. The unexpectedly disastrous, panic-inducing call. I heard a chair creak, and then he repeated, “He’s planning to have you committed.” “Please wait,” I whispered, dipping my chin to my chest, allowing my hair to fall forward. Blocking my face from Ms. Opal and anyone else who might walk through our shared space, I whispered, “Let me call you back. I’m at work.” Uncle Eugene huffed, the sound ripe with impatience. “At work.” “Yes. At work. As in my job.” “Your job.” His words were as flat as matzo."