About the Book
Series: Imperfect Love Kindle Worlds , 2
Author: Cora Kenborn
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publication Date: June 6, 2017
I have twenty-eight days to find the perfect wife…
On paper, it seems like I need a life coach, but I’ve managed to get a decent grip on the single-dad thing. As a sought-after photographer with a sexy Irish accent, I have no problem attracting women. Especially crazy ones who can’t take no for an answer. But now, I’m backed in a corner, and both mine and my daughter’s futures are being threatened.
The plan is simple: find a fake fiancée, introduce her at my company’s gala, and save my job. A chance meeting with a tall, leggy blonde who looks like she could use a night out is the perfect solution. Beautiful, sane, and she has a kid? We have a winner.
The relationship is a ruse, but I didn’t count on her being unforgettable. A lie brought us together, but now I have no intention of letting her go.
I can’t buy my way onto Madison Avenue…
I didn’t bust my ass in college to be a nanny. Unfortunately, a 4.0 GPA and sucking up did nothing to secure me a coveted Tate & Cane internship. I’m not proud of being a nanny-for-hire to get my foot in the door, but my wealthy employer has connections, so I do what I need to—until one outrageous proposal changes everything.
In one afternoon, I find myself fake engaged with a fake new family. I’m not a liar, but he assumes the kid is mine. I should set the record straight. There’s only one problem. My new “fiancé” is a photographer for Tate & Cane. He’s my “in.”
If I can hold on to this charade long enough, I can get the job and the man of my dreams. I’m winging this completely unsupervised. Game on.
Laken gives me an accusing stare as if I have some grand scheme in choosing her. “Why me?”
“That’s not an answer,” she argues shaking her head. “What’s in it for me?”
“You said you need a job, right? I have connections, and I can get you in front of people who make those kinds of decisions for my company.” Frustrated this isn’t going as easily as I’d hoped, I slump back into my chair. “Bloody hell, woman, anyone else would do it just for the opportunity to walk into a Tate & Cane party.”
Laken suddenly stills. “I’m sorry, did you say Tate & Cane?”
“Yes, and for some reason, I also want to help you. I think you deserve a break.” I let out a harsh breath and start packing up my shit to leave. “But if you aren’t interested, then—”
“Yes!” she screams, causing more than a couple patrons to glance our way.
“Are you sure you don’t want to think about it?”
“It’s just one night, right? It shouldn’t be that hard. A few hours of pretending to like each other won’t kill me.”
I scowl at her. “You’re amazing for a guy’s ego, you know that?”
“So, how do we do this?” she says, ignoring my jab. “Do we just meet there and make out on the dance floor?”
Fuck, this is going to be a hell of a lot more work than I anticipated. “While you make it sound quite enticing, it’s a little more involved than that.”
I study her face for a moment. What we’re doing is risky, and walking into a Tate & Cane lion’s den without being prepared is stupid. Gloria will come armed and ready, so we have to be more than ready. “Give me your number. I think we should get to know each other a little. They may ask questions, and we’ll need to be prepared to rattle off personal details about each other.”
Laken sucks in a deep breath as if I just asked her to swim naked in a tank of starved piranhas. “You want to go out on a date?”
“Okay, we really need to work on you not making that face every time you think about spending time alone with me. It’s kind of a dead giveaway.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose, knowing we have more work ahead of us than we have time. “Have you never played poker in your life?”
She’s quiet for a moment and appraises my face as if she’s waiting for a punchline that never comes. “I’m a business major, Niall. Not a gambler.”
“Ante up, Miss Cavanaugh. The stakes are about to raise.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cell phone and punch in her name. “Now give me your number.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she finally gives it to me, and I type that in as well. Once I hit enter, I follow it up with the call button and her phone rings. Raising an eyebrow, she digs it out of her backpack and answers.
“This is Niall Mackay. Now you have my phone number. Program this shit in as My Darling Big Dick Fiancé.”
Laken wrinkles up her nose and makes a face. “You’re disgusting.”
“Aye, the loving way you talk to me is why I fell in love with you, my future fake wife.”
I'm a self-published author (because being a college student wasn't hard enough!) and spend most of my time doing homework. I write YA multi-genre fiction for young adults or the young at heart. I love NCIS, BBC's Sherlock,
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