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–he 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!
Also available from Angelina M. Lopez
and Carina Press
Lush Money
And stay tuned for book three in the Filthy Rich series by Angelina M. Lopez, coming in 2021!
Content Warning
Hate Crush talks about topics some readers may find difficult, including suicide and miscarriage.
Hate Crush
Angelina M. Lopez
To Mom and Clay, these books wouldn’t exist without your “crazy” idea to plant a vineyard. Thank you for including me in your dreams.
Author Note
The Monte del Vino Real is my make-believe kingdom in the mountains of northern Spain, but I leaned on the real and gorgeous wine-growing region of Rioja for inspiration. Go visit. Send pictures.
Contents
Prologue
Mid-August
September 1
September 1 Part Two
Ten Years Earlier
September 2
September 7
Ten Years Earlier
September 8
September 10
September 11
September 11 Part Two
Ten Years Earlier
September 15
September 16
September 16 Part Two
September 18
September 18 Part Two
September 22
September 22 Part Two
10 Years Earlier
September 26
September 26 Part Two
September 27
September 28
September 28 Part Two
September 28 Part Three
September 30
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Excerpt from Lush Money by Angelina M. Lopez
Prologue
The second bottle of fermented celery root gin went down much easier than the first.
His stylist was going to kill him for trading his Cartier sunglasses for the bottles. But as he slumped on a vegan leather couch in the VIP tent with his arm slung around his new best friend—a hemp-wearing gin maker wearing thousand-dollar shades—Aish Salinger thought the trade was totally worth it. After a year of sobriety, the foul-tasting liquor blurred the edges of his vision so the open flaps of the tent, the gyrating dancers in the distance, the burning fires, and the endless expanse of hot, white, flat Nevada desert looked like it used to. Exciting. Welcoming. Like a place he wanted to be.
The liquor pillowed him in the memories of the other times he’d attended this art and music festival with John Hamilton, his bass player and lifelong best friend, at his side, groupies and hangers-on answering every beck and call. The liquor convinced him that he wanted to be here, dressed like a Mad Max tool in graffitied leather jeans and no shirt, flashing his famous tattoos, instead of being home. Alone.
The liquor gave him his new best friend.
“Got a question,” his new best friend said above the distant beats of techno coming from the main stage. Propped against Aish, the man reeked of pot and patchouli and unwashed days in the desert. But that’s what you did for your best friend. You accepted them, stink and all. You never pushed them away.
The man’s name was Buck. Or Steve. Aish called him dude. “What’s that, dude?”
“Who’d you guys write that song about? You know the one, ‘In You.’ Song’s good for rubbing one out.”
Aish tugged his head off the couch and looked blearily around the tent. The festival headliner was playing so the velvet couches and satin play pits were empty in the glow of the chandeliers. And Aish’s once-packed entourage had disappeared with the stink of scandal and a failing career.
Still, he couldn’t be too careful with a secret he’d kept close for ten years, a secret that journalists and groupies and spies had been trying to squeeze out of him since ‘In You’ exploded on the charts and unleashed their band, Young Son, on the world.
But as Aish smacked the taste of spoiled celery root in his mouth, he thought he’d never met a trustworthier guy than Buck. Or Steve.
“Dude, not naming names, but she was amazing,” he said, closing his eyes as he settled his head back on the couch, feeling soothed and tied in knots like he always did whenever he thought of ‘In You.’ The song was pure sex, summoned the sensations of the purest sex with her.
He never should have let the label release it. “I fucked up so bad.”
“What’d you do?”
“Broke her heart.” He used to think it was the worst thing he’d ever done. “I was a douche. Young, so stupid.” Memories of her lit like a constellation in his brain. “She was one in a million.”
“You sound like you loved her. I thought she just rocked your cock.”
Rocked your cock. Could Aish turn that into a song? It was better than what he’d been coming up with on his own.
“Yeah, she did,” he said, dragging his fingers through his hair the way she used to, slow and tugging. “I miss her.”
“I’d miss her too if she was as hot as you
