Ivy Lane has ninety miles to reach her sister's wedding and one rental car that has just died in the worst rain of the decade. The man who stops to help is the same man she publicly humiliated at a conference in March, and he has not forgotten. He also has the only working tow truck in three counties and a rule about not talking to passengers. Nine hours, two diners, one motel room with a broken heater, and a conversation neither of them meant to start. By dawn they are still not friends. They are something considerably worse.
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