Against My Better Judgment, He's Mine

She fell asleep furious about a single line. She woke up inside the story.

When a woman finishes her favorite novel and finds herself incensed by its heroine's forgotten fiancée — a capable, intelligent woman handed one dismissive line in an epilogue — she falls asleep angry about it. She wakes up as that woman.

In a candlelit estate. In a corset. With six weeks until the arrogant prince she's engaged to starts chasing someone else.

She has read this story. She knows every plot point, every character, every beat of the romance she's not supposed to be part of. She has exactly one plan: survive the engagement, avoid the drama, and under no circumstances fall in love with a man the novel told her was the obstacle, not the prize.

The plan does not survive contact with the actual version of him.

"He didn't ask her to dance. She didn't notice. That was the beginning of both their problems."