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Rule one when seeking a secret mountain hideaway: Be certain the cabin's unoccupied. Also, make sure there's no blizzard coming. I've screwed up all of that before I get the key in the door, which shouldn't be a shock. God knows I've messed up plenty of things lately. Is it too much to want a hideout from Hollywood headlines in a place no one knows my name? Maybe not, since Gretchen Laslo has zero clue who I am. That's the upside of being snowed-in with a stunning professor whose impressive list of appliances includes two ice cream makers and no television. The downside? Cocoa and blanket forts lead to toe-curling sex, which leads to me kinda-sorta forgetting to tell her the paparazzi's on my tail. It's a matter of time before she finds out. When that happens, our wintry romance will melt faster than two snowmen boning in a sauna.