One Hot Fake: An Accidental Fake Marriage Romance Read online

  One Hot Fake

  Sarah J. Brooks

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Special Invitation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Preview: Unexpected Heat

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Copyright © 2021 by Sarah J. Brooks

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Special Invitation

  Hey Sweetie,

  do you want to get THREE romance novels sent directly to your Facebook Messenger inbox? Simply click here and I will reach out to you personally!

  With love and talk soon,

  Sarah

  Chapter 1

  Marian

  Dear Marian,

  We’re sorry to put you in the middle, but my mother and mother-in-law are driving us crazy. My fiancé and I have no input over anything, and we feel as if this is their wedding. They are the ones making all the major decisions without consulting us. We are very tempted to call everything off and fly to Vegas. Help.

  Susan.

  I quickly type a reply to Susan, promising to have a word with her mother and mother-in-law. It’s not an uncommon problem with something as big and emotionally explosive as a wedding. Emotions run high, and everyone forgets that it’s about the couple and no one else. It’s my job to gently remind everyone involved to focus on making the wedding a success for the couple.

  I hit send and sit back to admire my empty inbox. Not that it’s going to stay empty for long. As a wedding planner, my inbox is perpetually full, and moments like this, when I manage to respond to all my messages, are to be savored.

  I shift my gaze from the screen and realize how dark it has become outside. Startled at the sudden darkness, I check the time. Seven. I curse under my breath. My best friends, Jason and Brooke are coming to my new house for dinner at seven-thirty.

  This means that I have thirty minutes to figure out what we’ll eat, where it will come from, and then get home and take a shower.

  I simultaneously reach for my phone and turn off my computer. I find Ann’s number easily enough, and I hit call. She runs a seafood restaurant on Pathway Street, which luckily, is on my way home. My job as a wedding planner also means that I know most of the vendors in and around LA, which comes in super handy a lot of the time.

  “Hi there,” I say when she answers the phone.

  We exchange a few pleasantries, and then I tell her my current predicament. “Would you believe that I have guests in thirty minutes, and I haven’t prepared dinner?”

  Her laugh shakes the phone. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “It’s a good thing that my clients don’t see how disorganized I am in my personal life,” I say with a laugh.

  “The only reason why you feel that way is that you give a hundred percent to your work,” Ann says.

  “That’s why I love you. You always make me feel better—in addition to your awesome food, of course.”

  She chuckles before her tone becomes all business. “Now, what would you like to order?”

  I rattle off my favorite dishes from the seafood menu, which I know by heart, and when I’m done, she promises that it will be ready in 20 minutes. Perfect. It will take me that much time to drive to the restaurant.

  That done, I go through the motions of closing down the office for the day. The outer office is an open plan arrangement with two other desks, belonging to my two assistants, Kimberly and Eric. They are awesome, and I honestly don’t know how Lilly’s Love Wedding Planners would run without them.

  I grab my bag and head down the stairs that lead straight out onto the street. I glance next door and shake the door of the boutique. It’s a habit I formed when I moved upstairs and left my girls to run the boutique. Every evening after work, I always check if the doors are locked.

  That done, I stroll down the street to my car. Minutes later, I’m driving toward Pathway Street to pick up dinner.

  Ann has my food packed by the time I get there, and all I have to do is pay.

  “You’re the best,” I tell her as I blow her a kiss and leave the restaurant.

  The scent of the food teases my nostrils, and the rumble of hunger in my stomach reminds me that I missed lunch.

  My new house is in Pine Place, a nice community of upscale homes built on a hill overlooking the city. It never fails to give me a thrill when I’m at my driveway, staring at my two-story house. It’s surrounded by a quarter acre of manicured grass that the community association takes care of.

  Today, there is no time to pause and admire it. I have ten minutes to set the table and take a shower before Jason and Brooke arrive for dinner. From past dinner dates with them, I know they are sticklers for time, and they will be here at exactly seven-thirty.

  I hurry into the house and head straight to the kitchen. I place the food on the granite top island. I desperately need a shower after a day of running around and an afternoon of sitting behind my desk.

  I kick off my shoes and jog up to the second story to the master bedroom. I shower in record time, and in five minutes, I’m back downstairs setting the table and warming the food.

  At exactly seven-thirty, the doorbell rings, and with a grin, I go to the front door and fling it open.

  “Hi,” I say, pleasure flooding over me seeing my best friends.

  Brooke and I cling to each other as if we haven’t seen each other in months. I hug Jason next and then usher them into the house.

  “This is beautiful,” Brooke squeals as she looks around.

  They had both been to the house before I bought it and after I bought it but this is the first time they’re seeing the furniture.

  “It’s a solid house,” Jason says, looking around the expansive living space.

  I know that it’s too big for one person, but deep inside, I remain hopeful that I’ll have a baby one day. I have no boyfriend currently, and the last guy I had a relationship with was almost a year ago. Yeah. A
baby. That’s all I want to be truly happy.

  “Can we have a quick tour?” Brooke says.

  It’s fun to show them around and see Brooke’s reaction to the furniture pieces I picked. I love modern furnishings—simple, clean looks and lots of wood. She exclaims over everything in a way only Brooke can. Total enthusiasm.

  Brooke and Jason are the closest things I have to family in LA. My mom lives in Northern California, and so does my dad.

  I met Jason first, as he and I had been friends since college before he went for firefighter training. We’d been known as the three musketeers in college. Jason, myself, and our friend Marvin. I wait for the shadow of sadness that always comes over me whenever I think of Marvin. It doesn’t disappoint and swamps over me like a gust of wind.

  “Are you OK?” Jason says.

  “I’m fine,” I say as I lead them to the couch.

  “You’re thinking about Marvin, aren’t you?” Brooke is very perceptive especially considering that we haven’t known each other for as many years as Jason and I have. Oddly, we had never met as she’s Marvin’s little sister.

  “I was,” I admit.

  We lost Marvin and his wife, Ellie, several years ago in a grisly road accident, but we never fail to remember them, especially when we’re together.

  Marvin and Ellie left custody of their son Liam to Jason and Brooke. They’d been there for each other during that terrible, painful time. Drawn together by grief, they fell in love and got married.

  Thankfully, it all worked out well, with Liam having a set of parents to raise him, and then later, they had added a little girl to the brood.

  I ask them about the kids, and for the next five minutes, Brooke updates me on their antics, which gets all sorts of emotions tugging at my heartstrings.

  “I should offer you some wine, but the food will go cold,” I say a few minutes later.

  “How is Ann doing? I haven’t seen her in a long time,” Jason says, his tone teasing.

  “Don’t tease her, Jason,” Brook says. “You know how busy she is at work. Cooking is just not doable. Besides, I love seafood.”

  Guilt floods me as I remember how much trouble Brooke goes to whenever I go to their home for dinner. She cooks everything from scratch.

  “She’s a keeper,” I say to Jason as we settle around the table to eat.

  Jason leans toward his wife and rubs his nose against hers, then they laugh. There are a lot of moments like that with Brooke and Jason.

  I love them, and I know they try their best to include me, but boy, is it tough sometimes to be with them. They’re crazy about each other, and because of that, they’re always doing the couple’s thing. You know—private jokes, whispering to each other, stuff like that.

  They are the one couple who reinforce my belief in love.

  I pop open the wine bottle, and as I begin to pour some for Brooke, she covers the wine glass with her hand and smiles at me. “None for me, thank you.”

  I frown. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

  She winks and glances down at her tummy.

  My eyes widen as understanding dawns. I shift my glance from her to Jason, then back to her again. “Are you?”

  A soft look comes over her features as she nods. “We are four weeks pregnant.”

  “That’s so exciting.” I squeal.

  “We haven’t told anybody yet, even the kids,” Brooke says.

  “You’re glowing,” I tell her. “I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before.” Brooke is gorgeous with good girl looks and a body that could be a model even after giving birth.

  As we eat dinner, we catch up on each other’s news. I regale them with tales from work, which are always a hit.

  “Speaking of weddings,” Jason says. “Connor and Jen’s wedding is this coming weekend.”

  “Oh, cool. Are you guys going?” I ask. If I remember correctly, the wedding will be in Vegas.

  Jason shakes his head. “We can’t, not so early in Brooke’s pregnancy.”

  I remember that Brooke had problems with her last pregnancy in the early months. “Yes, it’s better to be safe and stay home.”

  Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope, which he pushes across the table to me.

  “What’s this?” I say.

  “Plane ticket,” Jason says. “You are going to Vegas in our place. “

  “What are you talking about? “I say. “I can’t go to Vegas. I have a business to run.”

  Brooke and Jason exchange a look.

  “Do you realize that ever since we met, you’ve never taken time off,” Brooke says. “You’re always working.”

  “That’s because it’s a new business,” I say. “I have to work ungodly hours for the business to succeed.”

  “We understand,” Brooke says. “And you’ve done a wonderful job with it. We are all so proud of you, but now it’s time for you to have a little fun.”

  “Does she even remember what the word fun means?” Jason says, his tone was sarcastic.

  I stick out my tongue at him. “No one knows how to have fun as much as I do, Jason, and you know it.”

  “Then go,” Brooke says.

  “You have good people working for you, Marian,” Jason said. “They’ll hold the fort down while you’re away.”

  It’s tempting; I have to admit. The thought of flying to Vegas and leaving my worries and responsibilities behind for two days sounds like heaven.

  “You will, won’t you?” Brooke says.

  Was I seriously considering leaving my business for a whole weekend of fun and merriment in Vegas? I thought about how hard I had worked for the last five years. As Brooke pointed out, I had never taken time off.

  Surely, I deserved two days of fun. “OK then, I will.”

  “That’s my girl,” Brooke says.

  Chapter 2

  Declan

  I shuffle around before I find a comfortable position. My long legs are an advantage everywhere except on a plane. I relax back in the seat and let out a sigh as my muscles relax.

  I’m looking forward to this weekend. The last few months have been filled with stress after stress from mounting debt to lack of capital, which I sorely need to expand the business.

  A peppermint scent alerts me to the presence of another person near me. I turn away from the window, and when I look at the caramel beauty who slides into the seat next to mine, my breath hitches.

  She smiles as she adjusts her body to find a comfortable seating position. The more I look at her, the more I think I’ve seen her before. “Do I know you?”

  She gives me a cynical look.

  “I promise it’s not a pick-up line. Honestly, I feel as if I’ve met you before.”

  “It’s a big city,” she says in a voice that sounds like a race car. Throaty. Sexy. A voice that conjures up an image of her whispering into my ear, begging me to do dirty things to her.

  I have to tear my gaze away. She’s gorgeous. My attention is momentarily grabbed by the flight attendant as she takes us through the safety briefing.

  “I’m Declan,” I tell my seatmate a few minutes later when the plane is in the air.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says. “My name is Marian.”

  I bite my tongue from saying the automatic response that comes to my mind. I have a feeling that if I tell her she has a beautiful name, she’ll raise that cute eyebrow at me again.

  “Are you from LA?” she says.

  “Santa Monica, born-and-bred,” I tell her. “What about yourself?”

  “I’m from a small town in Northern California called Arlen,” she says. “But I’ve lived in LA for almost six years now.”

  The flight attendant interrupts our conversation as she wheels the drink trolley down the aisle. I settle for a bottle of water, as does Marian.

  I still can’t shake the feeling that I know her from somewhere, but no matter how much I wrack my brain, it doesn’t come. Not to mention that I would have remembere
d if I’d met her. Marian has the kind of looks that you don’t forget. Not if you’re a hot-blooded male. She oozes sex appeal. From the length of her gorgeous legs, I can tell that she’s tall and curvy. I’m in full arousal mode, which goes to show how long it’s been since I’ve dated. The last year or so has been all about my business.

  Marian is easy to talk to, and we flirt all the way to Las Vegas. We land in the afternoon, and when the plane comes to a stop and the ‘seatbelts off’ sign flashes, Marian and I smile at each other and shake hands.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she says.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” I tell her. “Enjoy the wedding.”

  “Enjoy yours too,” she says, and with a wave, she disappears out of the door.

  Her peppermint scent lingers behind, and as I leave the airplane, feelings of regret that we would not see each other again come over me.

  I’m in Vegas; I forget about Marian as soon as I step off the plane. The weather is warm, with a slight breeze that stops it from being too hot.

  Vegas baby. I stroll toward the terminal and then to the baggage claim. Minutes later, I’m in a cab on the way to the hotel where all the guests are staying.

  The Dash hotel is all glitter and glam, and I can’t wait to sample everything it has to offer. I quicken my step across the thickly carpeted lobby as I spy a familiar figure leaning on the check-in desk.

  “Hi again,” I say, weirdly pleased to run into Marian again.

  She beams when she turns to me. “It is nice to see you again. Are you staying here too?”

  “Yep,” I say.

  “OK then, I’ll see you around,” she says, and with the wave, she heads toward the elevators.

  The hotel is huge and sprawling, with several wings, and I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to run into Marian again. I check-in and follow a porter to my room on the sixth floor.

  After shelving my suitcase into the closet and taking a quick shower, I go downstairs for a drink at the bar. I’m in Vegas, after all, and it’s a Friday evening.

  I opt for The Lounge bar, which is on the northern wing of the hotel. I head straight to the counter and chose a stool at the far end.

  “Welcome to The Lounge bar,” a friendly bartender said. “What can I get you this evening, sir?”