Harry Potter never meant to enter the Triwizard Tournament. He wanted books, not dragons. Peace, not headlines. But when his name erupts from the Goblet, the rules change and so does everything between him and Fleur Delacour.

She’s veela-hot, smug as sin, and cocky enough to taunt him in tight tops and leggings painted on by dark magic. He should’ve ignored her. He didn’t.
She made a bet. He won.