Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  Now, she’s making me do insane things. Like, obsess over the color of her panties or if I can make her blush. Read superstition one—I don’t do this sort of thing.

  I play ball, not chase after a woman I barely know.

  But, I am, and she wants nothing to do with me.

  She thinks I’m the devil.

  And I have to say she makes me want to sin.

  I’m becoming a borderline stalker.

  And to make matters worse she’s affecting my game.

  I can’t pitch.

  I can’t hit.

  I can’t focus.

  Something needs to give, and it won’t be me.

  Chapter One

  Calliope (Kah-li-a-pee)

  My veins are going to explode. I scan the list of ingredients in the Max Energy drink I consumed this morning, checking to see if drugs are listed. They aren’t.

  With a move I imagine is worthy of Maxwell Hunter, the star pitcher who endorses it, I wind my arm back and rocket the sleek silver can across the conference room of Mayhem Marketing. It thunks against the cream-colored wall and lands with a thump inside the small trash can.

  “Yesss,” I exclaim as the door opens.

  “They’re ready for you, Calliope,” Rita, assistant to the man who’s going to hire me to cater all of his marketing company’s functions, informs me with a furrowed brow.

  He hasn’t actually agreed to hire me yet, but he will, because according to the energy drink ‘It’s winning in a can.’

  “Let’s do this, Rita,” I nearly squeal, ping-ponging around the room where I’ll be serving the King and his court various items I’ve created. “I’m going to win them over with my baking skills.”

  “You ok?” she asks, at half the speed I seem to be talking.

  I give her two very animated thumbs up, feeling like my arms are going to shoot off to the ceiling.

  “Yes.” I smooth my hands down the long length of my hair, from root to bottom. The usually heavy brown locks feel like they’re standing on end. I need to calm down, but I can’t. I feel electrified. Times one hundred.

  She moves to the corner of the room as Tobias Longwood, grey-haired owner of Mayhem Marketing, enters, followed by two men in suits. My heart rate accelerates to an unnatural rhythm. I’m not sure if it’s the energy drink or the fact I’ve been dreaming about this opportunity for such a long time. If I can land this account, I’ll finally have the extra money to expand my cafe. Thanks to Max Energy, that thought makes me extra excited.

  “Miss Thomas, hello,” Tobias greets me. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I respond a little too loud over the pulse in my ears, giving his outstretched hand several vigorous pumps.

  His brow furrows just like Rita’s did, and I try to dial it down a notch, but my dial is broken.

  It can’t be normal that my lips tingle when I smile as Tobias introduces me to the two execs who will help decide my fate about whether or not I’ll be hired.

  While the people I’m here to impress take a seat at the rectangular table, I chatter, uncontrollably, about my creations and with jittery hands remove the rich chocolate cake adorned with the Mayhem logo from its box.

  “Looks delicious,” Tobias compliments me as I move closer at warp speed.

  My feet walk faster than my heels can keep up, and instead of placing my showpiece in the center of the table, the cake somehow teeters amidst a chorus of gasps to end up a ganache mess... right in Tobias’ lap. All three layers.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologize, staring at the broken lump on his groin.

  “Are you on drugs?” he asks with a pinched face, looking down at the red Mayhem logo smeared on his pristine white shirt.

  “No,” I deny, “I can explain.” My eyes dart at a rapid pace to the shocked expressions on the other faces seated at the table.

  “You get one shot here. That was yours. Thank you for coming in, Miss Thomas.”

  “It was an energy drink—Max Energy—by that famous baseball player,” I tell him, because like he said, this is my one shot. “Listen, whoever marketed that as success in a can should be fired.”

  As he removes a lump of cake from his soiled trousers into the garbage can Rita retrieved, he informs me, “We designed that campaign.”

  The room is silent as I pack my things and go. All of my dreams follow me out the door. I'm too high on Max Energy to be depressed.

  I have no one to blame but myself. And Maxwell Hunter, the man behind the drink.

  When I get home, I drop my purse on the kitchen counter and beeline straight for the fridge. On the top shelf, next to the milk, sit the remaining cans of Max Energy. I tilt one of the tall cylinders and read the tiny black font:

  Max Energy will give you that extra you need to reach your goals. It’s winning in a can.

  Share your success.

  Leave a review.

  The words taunt me before I toss it in the trash. The four cans left in my fridge follow it into the garbage before I move over to my laptop on the island in my kitchen. I type in the web address to the Nile site listed on the can and search for Max Energy, clicking on the tiny thumbnail, and then, scrolling through all the five-star reviews.

  Delicious! I finished a project for work that earned me a bonus.

  Homerun. Finally, put together the bookshelf I’d been dreading.

  Review after review raves about this drink.

  7 stars!

  I'd give it 100 if I could! I've never tasted anything like this or had so much energy. You will love it!

  Seven out of five?

  I can barely refrain from commenting to ReviewQueen that her rating is impossible. You can not give more than you have.

  I click on ‘My Review’ and select one star. Annoyance flows through my veins and spills out from my fingertips as I type.

  Let me share my story with you. It doesn’t have a happy ending, just like the book I had stayed up all night reading didn’t. I was tired the next morning, and my coworker had given me these from her PR package, so I thought, ‘Sure, I’ll try it.’ I drank one before the most important meeting of my life. Big mistake.

  This is not success in a can. Don’t drink the Kool-Aid, people. Or actually, do. Maybe you won’t bounce off the walls and lose your dream client. Thanks, Max. Thank you for my failure. I hope you have a losing season.

  And then, I press the submit button. Take that, Maxwell Hunter.

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  Sneak Peek of Date Me

  Date Me is Book One of The ME Series. Break Me hails from this series, and if you haven’t read all four books, I urge you to grab them today. They’re ALL available in this box set at a discounted price. CLICK HERE TO CHECK THEM OUT!

  Keep reading for the first chapter of DATE ME, Book One. All four books can be read as a standalone.

  Chapter One

  ERIK

  “It isn’t a secret your dick needs some action.”

  “Fuck, Lexi, can you please not talk about my most treasured organ?” I asked as we sat in a side booth at the local diner.

  “It’s hardly an organ. But, that’s my point. It’ll shrivel up and fall off if you don’t use it,” she said, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.

  “I use it plenty.” I picked up my fork and spun it between my fingers before digging into my egg special. This conversation couldn’t be more wrong.

  “Oh, please. You haven’t been laid since Gretchen what’s her face, and that was over eight months ago.”

  “I don’t know what’s more disturbing here, the fact you remember that, or you’re my sister.”

  Lexi, my twin, the female version of me, only with a touch of snarky sass and a foul mouth to make a few sailors blush.

  “What are we talking about here?” Marley’s soft voice filled the booth and I cringed. My sisters were double teaming me, and I knew it.

  “Erik’s dick,” Lexi answered, through a mouthful of pancakes.r />
  “Ooh, let me get my magnifying glass, and I can join in.” Marley, the baby of the family, pushed on my shoulder, and I scooted over so she could slide in beside me.

  “Enough.” My deep voice was firm. “I’m not having this discussion again with the both of you.”

  “Touchy. What’s wrong big brother?” Marley picked up the menu and gave me an innocent look. “Did the girl from the coffee shop not work out?” she teased.

  The problem with both my sisters was they liked to meddle. And their favorite life to intrude on? Mine.

  Lexi pointed her fork at me. “All I’m saying is, you would be a lot happier if you got your dick wet.”

  “Tell me again how Jared puts up with you?” I asked.

  “Oh, the relationship is still new, and I suck a mean cock. I grab it real good with both hands,” Lexi dropped her fork and wrapped her hands around an imaginary dick, giving a sly grin to Marley, “then, I swivel my head around and go to town.” She laughed as she picked up her fork and knife and sliced into her pancakes.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked while they both laughed.

  “Nothing,” she said as a dribble of syrup oozed out of her mouth.

  “Calm down, Erik. We’re only trying to help,” Marley said as the waitress approached and took her order.

  “Yeah, what she said.” Lexi pointed her fork toward Marley and then continued to devour her stack of blueberry pancakes.

  “And what makes you both think I even need your help?”

  Lexi’s fork and knife fell from her fingers, clattering on her plate. Her head sprang up; mouth open with the remnants of chewed up pancakes. She grabbed her napkin and wiped her mouth while she finished off the food in her mouth. “Ok, shit just got real. You need us Erik. Have you forgotten what next month is?” Lexi asked.

  Marley giggled beside me as my face heated. “I told you not to mention next month. I’m going to be doing some rock climbing in an undisclosed location.”

  “Oh please, no you aren’t. You’re going,” Marley said firmly, turning over her coffee cup for the waitress to fill. “Just like all of us are going. To show that bitch what she’s missing out on.” The waitresses’ eyes grew wide, but Marley waved her off with an apology.

  “Why would she even invite me anyways?” I asked, totally deflated once again.

  “You know exactly why. Our moms are best friends. Mom doesn't realize she’s a life-sucking whore. And because Steffie wants to make everyone else just as miserable as her,” Lexi chimed in.

  “On her wedding day?” I popped a slice of bacon into my mouth as both Marley and Lexi laughed.

  “Of course on her wedding day. Bitches want everyone miserable on their wedding day,” Lexi said.

  I shook my head; the mysteries of women being revealed a bit more by my sister’s warped minds. “I don’t think most girls think like that.”

  “Ok, not most, but Steffie Jamison sure the fuck thinks like that.”

  Steffie, Stefany Jamison, my ex-girlfriend who I dated for five years and now the fiancée to a man she met while on an African safari a few months back. The point was, we broke up last year, and I was over her. But, when her wedding invitation came in the mail, I was once again devastated.

  Not because I wanted her back, but because she was happy without me.

  “You need a smokin’ hot date,” Marley said when her pancakes arrived.

  I passed the syrup over after she nudged me with her knee.

  “Erik, you not only need a smokin’ hot girlfriend, but you need to move on. I like to see those blue eyes happy. Let me see the baby blues.” Lexi snapped her fingers in front of my face as I closed my eyes.

  Both my sisters liked to tease me about my hypnotic blue eyes or so they called them. I tried not to smile as their teasing continued.

  “Seriously, all I’m saying is you need to find someone. Why haven't you?” Lexi persisted. “You’re a good-looking guy. Tall, lean, that slightly just fucked looking hair.” She winked at Marley. “And you’ve got those full lips just like me.” She made a kissy face and I glared at her. “And that’s why I called this meeting.”

  I knew it. My assessment was right; this was an ambush.

  “Meeting?” I asked.

  “We kind of have something to tell you,” Marley said in a voice which I knew meant she had already done something I would not be too happy about.

  “Tell me,” I demanded.

  “It’s nothing really,” Marley hedged.

  “Tell me, now.” Trying to get information from the two of them was like interrogating a national spy. Sometimes the thought of torturing them came to mind.

  “Weeellll,” Marley drew out the word.

  “Oh, for fucks’ sake, just tell him,” Lexi interrupted. “We made a profile for you on the new dating app, Cupid’s Happy Hearts.”

  My mouth grew dry and my face burned with irritation. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t want to be on some stupid Cupid’s Crappy Farts or whatnot. I’m going to kill you both.” Anger shot through me as I thought more and more about the events of next month and my sisters’ meddling.

  Marley turned in the seat, and her green eyes locked with mine. “Listen, Erik, we did this out of love. We don’t want you to show up to Steffie’s wedding alone.”

  “Who cares. Steffie will be getting married not worrying about who my date is.” I shoved my plate away, too disgusted to eat. Disappointment washed over Marley’s face and I sighed. My baby sister was my weakness. “How many messages?”

  “That’s the spirit,” Lexi said. “Well, you’ve received a few arrows and winks. And about seventeen messages.”

  I sat back against the red vinyl booth, crossing my arms, as I listened to Lexi explain each message in detail.

  “There’s one girl we like a lot. Lexi tell him about the one girl,” Marley exclaimed.

  “Go ahead, Lexi, tell me about the one girl.” I stayed in my position praying the vinyl would suck me away, and I could return home.

  “Her name is Violet, and she’s a saucy real estate agent.” I raised a brow and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Her words not mine. Anyways, she’s twenty-eight, and she seems like a good match with you.” Lexi pushed her plate to the center of the table and crossed her legs in the booth. She leaned over with both elbows on the table and widened her eyes, waiting for my response.

  “Oh, really. Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Well, she likes airplanes.” Lexi placed her feet back on the floor, her nervous energy getting the best of her.

  “Did she say that? Did she say she liked planes?” Lies, I could see right through Lexi.

  “Not in so many words,” Marley interjected, placing her hand on my arm, “but she recently went on a trip on a plane.”

  I dropped my head, staring into my lap, and shook my head. “You two are really reaching here. Fine, how about you give me the login info, and I’ll check it out.”

  These two were relentless, and they would never give up unless I gave them something. They both squealed with delight, and I felt I had just signed my own death sentence. But, the truth was, I did need a date for Steffie’s wedding. As much as I wanted to ignore the fact, her wedding was coming, and I would not be the only dateless mother fucker there. No, I’d have a date, and I’d flaunt that bitch right under Steffie’s fake nose.

  After the ambush at the diner, I returned to work with the login info to the crappy cupid site stuffed in my back pocket.

  “How was breakfast?” Connor asked as I walked into the hangar and grabbed the pre-flight checklist clipboard.

  “Breakfast with the sisters. What do you think?”

  “That’s shitty. What did they want this time?” he asked, following me over to the Gulfstream.

  The sleek private jet was fueled and ready to take its owners to the Caribbean Islands. The owners traveled to the islands a few times a week, and Connor and I made sure they got there.

  As captain of the
Gulfstream, and Connor as my co-pilot, we usually spent many nights sleeping away from our homes.

  “Get this, they put me up on some dating phone app.” We climbed the stairs to the jet and entered. The flight attendant was there making sure the cabin was in pristine condition. We waved to her, headed into the cockpit, and shut the door.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Which one?” Connor ran a hand through his short, auburn hair and laughed.

  “Cupid’s Crappy Shits And Giggles. I can’t remember the name.”

  “I think I’ve heard of that one.” Connor laughed. “Anyone hot on it?”

  “I haven’t even looked yet,” I said.

  “So, what’s the big deal? Find some pussy on the site and move on.”

  I shook my head before placing the headset on my head. A rap on the door had me biting back my words. I didn’t need to find pussy on a dating app to move on. If I wanted pussy, I could get it.

  “Hi, boys. The guests will be here shortly. Did either of you need anything?” Selene, our flight attendant, asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m all set,” Connor answered.

  “What about you, Captain,” she slowed the word captain, dropping her voice an octave or two.

  “I’m fine, Selene.” Selene was relentless in her pursuit of me. “Thank you.” Never fuck a flight attendant. That was my number one rule all through flight school. Especially on this gig. I loved this job.

  She smoothed the side of her dark bun and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her.

  “Man, fuck. She wants your cock,” Connor said, going over his pre-flight checklist. “Take her to the wedding.”

  “Nah, I don’t want that. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

  “Steffie really did a number on you, huh?”

  I stared at all the knobs and gauges in front of me. “Yeah, and I’ll never make that mistake again.” And I wouldn't. I would never fall in love. My mind was already made up.

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