by Jayce Carter
Table of Contents
Books by Jayce Carter
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by Jayce Carter
The Omega’s Alphas
Owned by the Alphas
Shared by the Alphas
Saved by the Alphas
Protected by her Alphas
Ready or Not
FAKE IT ’TIL
YOU MAKE IT
JAYCE CARTER
Fake It ’Til You Make It
ISBN # 978-1-83943-373-3
©Copyright Jayce Carter 2020
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright March 2020
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2020 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book one in the
Ready or Not series
A fake date with the hottest man she’s ever seen—what could go wrong?
Tara’s ex-husband is a cheating dirtbag, but when he hits an all-time high on the douche-meter and invites her to his wedding, she can’t stomach the idea of showing up sans date. Everyone already thinks she’s a loser—why prove them right? Over a few too many margaritas, Tara hatches a brilliant scheme to show up with the hottest man she can find on her arm. She can make her ex jealous, show everyone she’s moved on then part ways with her fake-date. No fuss, no muss. What could possibly go wrong?
Unfortunately, her fake-boyfriend Chris turns out to be more than just a ridiculously pretty face. The man is hot enough to melt the panties off a saint, and when she discovers his humor—and the mind-blowing sex he offers—she starts playing jump rope with the line between real and fake.
What started out as an easy way to make her ex jealous quickly turns messy as Tara starts to catch some very real feelings. Will she try to transform the fake relationship into something real, or will she throw in the towel and accept it was all make-believe?
Dedication
To my husband’s man-wife:
I owe you this, since you gave me time to write by constantly stealing my husband.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson
Xanax: Pfizer, Inc.
Chapter One
Tara drank her beer as if the alcohol could dull the hurt. I wish I was pissed off. Anger was better. It was tough and assertive. Pissed-off people burned down their ex’s house and got things done.
But, no, Tara was hurt, and the source of all that hurt sat in the center of the table.
“Forget about it,” Gena said before taking a drink of her own beer. “Why don’t we go on a girls’ trip? We can raise hell, have fun somewhere, pick up hot guys and forget all about this.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick sat and tossed his arm around Gena. “I think I’ll have something to say about my wife picking up guys.”
Tara had never seen a couple more in love or in tune than her brother and his wife, Gena. If she didn’t love them both so damned much, she’d hate them for being perfect. They reminded her of those couples on first dates who sat on the same side of a booth before they realized they hated one another.
And maybe cynicism wasn’t all that attractive, but Tara figured that ship had sailed a while before.
Gena caught Patrick’s chin and stole a quick kiss, mischief coloring her eyes. “You know I’ll come back. This is about your sister.”
“You don’t get to go find guys because my sister is terrible at dating.”
“I am not terrible,” Tara muttered.
Patrick turned back toward her, his smirk calling her a liar. “When was your last date?”
“What about that accountant?” Gena asked, her tone bright as though she were being helpful.
“The one who walked out before drinks even arrived?”
“It’s not her fault he was an asshole.” Ah, sweet Gena, who defended her even when Tara knew she was terrible with men.
That accountant had squinted at her, then made a snide comment about how her picture must have been old. He’d gone to the bathroom after putting in his order and never come back. It had left Tara sitting there, both meals spread across the table with only enough room for all the looks of pity from the waitresses.
The photo hadn’t been old, at least no more so than most people used. Sure, it was one of her best, the sort that happened when by luck, good lighting and a sacrifice to the god of social media she looked about twenty pounds lighter than she was, but it was still her.
Of course, the accountant hadn’t mentioned that he’d taken a few liberties himself with his own profile, since he sure as hell hadn’t been six foot when he’d walked in, and she’d seen the fancy math he must have done with his age when she’d caught sight of his license after he pulled out his wallet.
But, no, Tara was the wrong one.
“Men suck,” Tara griped. “I’m getting along just fine without one.”
“You really aren’t. It’s been months, Tara. You have to have cobwebs at this point.”
Let’s not think about that visual. She shuddered at the spider that would risk venturing toward her unused and nearly forgotten nether regions.
“Really? Right in front of me?” Patrick made a gagging noise Gena ignored.
Tara broke into the conversation before Patrick could step up his dramatics. “It’s really not that big a deal.”
“He invited you to his wedding. What do you mean it isn’t a big deal? That is a dick move.”
Yeah, it really was. Her ex-husband, Harry, had known exactly what he was doing when he’d sent her that invitation. It had arrived in her mailbox like a flaming bag of dog poop, and each time she thought
about it, she stepped right back on it again, smearing it around. He wasn’t stupid, even if she wished he were. He’d known that by inviting her, he got to play the good guy. He was the nice guy who wanted to mend fences and be friends and every other stupid cliché she could think of about getting over things.
If she said no? She was the bitch who couldn’t get over the fact that he’d left her.
Even so, the idea of sending back an anonymous bag of gummy dicks was tempting, and there was a ninety-eight percent chance she had his address already saved into a site that would mail them overnight. Except he didn’t deserve candy, dick-shaped or not.
“I have to go to it,” Tara said.
“He’s marrying the woman he cheated on you with. No one would blame you for bailing.”
“No one would blame me, but they’d sure have something to say about it. They’d all look at me like I was the freak who can’t get over him.”
“So what? Let them talk,” Patrick said.
Tara sat back, then tossed her empty can into the recycling bin set in the corner. It hit the edge and bounced to the ground.
Another miss. Guess that fits well, doesn’t it?
“I wouldn’t even mind going if I’d done anything. It’s been six months, and I haven’t changed at all. Same job. Same wardrobe. Same weight. Remember when he first walked out and I swore I’d go on a diet and lose fifty pounds and show him up?” She huffed, then dropped her face onto her crossed arms. Instead of being someone new, she’d show up looking exactly like herself.
“You still could.” Gena’s voice had taken on the tone that said she was planning something everyone else would hate.
Tara twisted, setting her cheek on her arm to stare at the other woman. “It’s two weeks away. Even a crash diet won’t help me much now.”
Gena waved her off. “No, not the weight. You look beautiful anyway. But you wanted to show him, right? Well, what’s the best way to do that?”
“Stab him and bury the body in the desert?”
Patrick chuckled, sitting back in his chair as his wife schemed.
“Show up with some hot stud on your arm.”
“Hot stud?” Tara spoke the words slowly to make sure Gena heard how stupid the idea was.
“Yes. No one’s going to care about anything else if you go to the wedding and your date makes him look like a broke-down two on a good day.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea, since I have hot men lining up wanting to date me. Oh wait, I don’t.”
Gena dismissed the point as if it were unimportant. “You said you don’t want to date, so all you need is someone to play the part.”
“I’m supposed to hire a man to pretend to date me? God, that’s more pathetic than actually hiring a prostitute. At least if I did that, I’d get a good orgasm out of it.”
Patrick choked on his drink at that, but all his sputtering meant he couldn’t object as they continued to plot.
“Just think about it. He’ll show up for what you need, make Harry jealous, show everyone you’ve moved on and don’t need that dead weight, then he’ll leave. No fuss, no muss, no drama and you’ll have some nice eye-candy for a few days.”
Tara opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, she considered it.
Gena had a point.
She’d avoid all the pity looks, all the nonsense. She wouldn’t need to worry about fostering some relationship, wouldn’t care what the man thought about her. It would be a job to him, nothing more.
Simple.
Tara sighed. “Even if I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Wanted ads?” Patrick asked, a mocking grin on his face. The asshole was such a brother, making sure to get a good kick in there when she was at a low point.
“I want a man, not to be murdered.”
Gena slammed her palm on the table, and even with the frantic movement, no one jumped. Everyone was used to Gena’s bordering-on-unstable behavior. “I’ve got it! Chris.”
Patrick cocked up an eyebrow. “Chris? Seriously?”
Gena sat back and rapped her knuckles on the table. “It’s perfect. He’s coming into town, and he’d do anything for you.”
Tara tried to keep Gena from getting too excited over the idea. “Wait, he’s from out of town? Yeah, telling people I met someone online is the exact way to convince them I’m not a loser.”
“It’s exactly what you need. He grew up a town over, and his mom is still there. It’s how you say you met. Plus, since he doesn’t live here, you don’t have to worry about running into him again. Plus, trust me, he’s hot. Right, Patrick?”
“I refuse to answer that.”
Gena kept going like he hadn’t spoken. “Not only is he hot, but he’s pretty damn successful, too. Trust me, you walk in anywhere with him and people will take notice.”
Tara tried to imagine how that would feel. She’d never been the center of attention, never someone who could make an entrance. If anything, she was the type who slunk in and sank into the background. While she still doubted Chris could be nearly as good-looking as Gena implied—especially since Gena liked to exaggerate—she still figured it couldn’t be worse than showing up alone.
“This is stupid,” she said to try to shake free the idea.
“This isn’t stupid. It’s brilliant, Tara, and it’s necessary. Trust me, at the end of this, you’ll feel better. You’ll have a handsome guy to look at, everyone will see that you don’t need Harry’s useless ass and you’ll have fun. Just say yes.”
Tara sighed, wanting to say no, but the idea of showing up alone, of being the loser yet again, ate at her.
She deserved to, just for once, be the one others envied. She deserved to stroll into a place and have people turn their heads. She’d spent her life being respectable and down-to-earth and doing what was right.
Damn it, she wanted to be over-the-top.
She wanted to see Harry eaten up with envy when he realized that what he didn’t want, someone else did. Even if it was all fake, that one second would be worth it.
“Call him,” Tara said.
* * * *
Chris smiled at the name that flashed across the screen of his phone, but when he answered, he used the appropriate amount of suspicion. “What now, Gena?”
His best friend’s wife was a disaster, always. He loved her like a sister, the woman who never failed to keep his best friend on his toes, but when her name showed up, he knew things wouldn’t be boring, at least. He’d never gotten so close to being arrested as when he’d been with her. The last time, they’d ended up in some back alley in LA at three a.m. with Gena trying to track down someone who had sold her a fake, knock-off purse.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Will I be arrested for saying yes?”
“Probably not.” She breezed forward so fast he had no idea if she was being serious or not. He could never tell with her. “What are your plans while you’re in town?”
“A few planning meetings with Pat. Dinner with my mom. That’s it.”
“Is she still pushing you to find a nice girl to settle down with?”
Chris grumbled an answer while he kicked his feet up on the table on his balcony, trying not to think about how his mother would harass him for the millionth time about needing to get married to a girl who would start popping out babies like a gumball machine.
If he thought he could get away with it, he’d refuse to go see her. He might try to head into town and keep on the downlow, try to avoid her the entire time. Unfortunately, karma would bite him in the ass if he tried it, and he’d end up running into her at a store.
No one held grudges like mothers. He was thirty-three and if he dared to try to leave her house early, his mother still liked to casually bring up how far she’d torn in delivering him. Twenty-two stiches never failed to buy her another two hours of his company.
Gena’s voice brought him back to their odd conversation. “That’s what I thought. I’ve
got an idea that’s going to help you out. What if I said I know a smart, hilarious, beautiful woman who needs a date to a couple of events while you’re out? Same sort of deal, she needs people off her back. You two help one another, show up and play the happy couple and you guys can shelve the whole dating thing for at least a year.”
Chris pressed his lips together as he considered the offer. Gena was known for piss-poor ideas, and he’d been on the ass end of a few of them, but that one wasn’t half-bad.
If he brought a girl home to his mother’s, he could ride that for at least a year. He’d make up some story in a few months about how the girl had broken his heart, then claim to be healing for a while longer. Hell, maybe he could squeeze out a few tears and his mom would make him cookies.
And the price? Just to repay the favor for her?
All of this while having a girl who knew better than to get involved? To have a girl who knew it was just a game?
That sounded like a pretty good plan to him.
“Who is it?”
“Pat’s sister.”
And there was the kicker. Little Tara Sampson? Chris hadn’t met her, but he’d seen and heard plenty about her. Patrick had talked about his sister like the annoying little brat all sisters were. On top of that, old pictures always sat on his walls, so Chris had gotten a look at the short girl who’d worn platform shoes and colorful scrunchies in her hair as a teenager.
Then again, someone down-home like that would work well for his mother. She lived a town over, so it wasn’t like they’d run into each other again, plus the connection would help sell the story. She hadn’t been a fan of the leggy blondes he’d brought around, so something a bit more low-key might just do better.
“And Pat won’t kick my ass for moving in on his sister?”
“I’ll protect you from him,” Gena promised. “So, what do you think?”
Chris nodded, his shoulders lifting in a well, fuck it, why not? motion.
