Fake Fiancé for Christmas Read online

  Fake Fiancé for Christmas

  By

  Emily Bow

  Fake Fiancé for Christmas

  © November 2019 by Emily Bow

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means now known or hereafter invented (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Emily Bow at

  [email protected].

  For upcoming books and other information, visit www.EmilyBow.com

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  [1. Fiction. 2. Romance. 3. Contemporary 4. Holiday 5. New Adult]

  Table of Contents

  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.

  Book Club Topics / Questions

  Note to Readers

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Book Description

  “I’m just asking for December.”

  A new, standalone Christmas romance between a hot billionaire hero and the witty fake fiancée he can’t let go of from popular contemporary author Emily Bow.

  Not all Christmas engagements begin with a long-term relationship and a radiant cut emerald. Theirs starts with a new attraction and a sprinkling of spite.

  Holly is the most studious of her sorority sisters, for her it’s books, books, books. But when her hot billionaire hero gets bombarded with matchmaking mama antics, she steps up to help.

  So what if he’s attractive, elusive, and only wants temporary. She can be close to Chance without falling in love with him.

  Chance Kentwell likes to go fast and seize all of life’s joys. His only loyalties are to his stock portfolio, his graduation plans, and his billionaire brothers. When he sees his oldest brother speeding toward an engagement with the wrong girl, he’ll support him no matter what. He’ll be best man, but he wants to celebrate his brother’s Christmas wedding without dodging panting potential partners behind every poinsettia bush.

  His solution? A fake engagement with a beautiful woman who hasn’t asked Santa to leave her a ten-carat diamond under the tree.

  When Christmas bells ring and mistletoe swings, Chance is forced to realize he wants his fake relationship with Holly to turn into a real love story with a lifetime of happily ever after. He’s put Holly on his Christmas list. Now, he has to work on being nice and a little naughty to get the one present that matters…

  Chapter 1.

  I was starting this Christmas season out being naughty. Holding in a snicker, I climbed the convention center steps to perform a favor for my deluded sorority sister, Bitsie. We were headed to the ballroom containing the five billionaire Kentwell brothers so she could offer herself to the fair one. I preferred dark-haired Chance Kentwell myself. I mean, if you’re going to swing for the fences aim for the stratosphere.

  Bitsie pleaded with me with her big optimistic hazel eyes. “All I want for Christmas is Tyler.”

  I pitied her.

  Bitsie would never snare one of the billionaire Kentwell brothers with all her neediness showing. She might as well go up to Tyler with the hem of her skirt tucked into her undies and beg him to let her buy him a gingerbread latte and a large snickerdoodle.

  Bitsie’s chest rose and fell as if reaching the entrance had winded her, when in actuality the thought of taking on Tyler was stealing her breath. “With Chance getting that award, Tyler is definitely in there.” She patted her cheeks, although they already had enough color. “I am moments away from seeing him.”

  The glass double doors lay ahead of us. The Kentwell brothers were waiting in there, just beyond the ginormous chandelier, unaware of Bitsie’s hesitant longing creeping Tyler’s way.

  “Why don’t you go for Chance himself? Or, one of the other brothers? One not involved with the head of our sorority?” Madison. The girl who said, Nine rings of hell? Hah. We need more.

  Madison had snared Tyler during the Spring Fling, and she was still riding him now that the oak leaves had fallen and the pine needles had iced over. Not that her relationship had stopped her from banging her ex. “Madison. Remember her? Please consider the brimstone she will rain down on you if you steal her man.”

  Bitsie pushed out her cranberry-glossed bottom lip. “I saw Tyler before Madison did.” She stepped toward the entry with the determination of a new puppy springing toward the big dog’s bowl.

  Bitsie had met Tyler first when the billionaire brothers had transferred here last semester. And she hadn’t made any kind of move. Not even a hello. The same as she’d do tonight. She’d get in there, lean against the wall, and sigh. And then she wouldn’t move as her shyness eclipsed her infatuation.

  I knew her.

  The silver bells in the garlands rang with the motions of the wind. I hurried to follow Bitsie as the chill December breeze whipped around the building and bit at my cheeks. “Why not hit on the man of honor?”

  “Chance is a bad boy. A charmer. Tyler is a gentle sweet soul.”

  Okay, that left three other brothers. I should have done more research to guide her better. According to the gossip mill, there were mysterious circumstances surrounding the five brothers’ transfer to our school, and I didn’t know who was naughty or nice. “Okay, one of the others?”

  “Nathan’s a manipulator. Easton’s a ball player. Logan’s some kind of genius with eyes only for his lab. I know what I’m doing.” Bitsie strode to the doorway and into the warm building with every intention of doing wrong.

  And I was little Satan’s helper.

  I was not aiding Bitsie because she saw Tyler first or because Tyler’s girlfriend was a cheat. I was in on this adventure because this was senior year. And after this December, we had one semester left. One. If Bitsie didn’t learn to go after what she wanted, she’d settle for sitting on the sidelines for the rest of her life.

  Madison was our sorority sister. Guilt bit at me about that, and
I grew hot within the confines of my long wool coat. I shrugged free. I was warm due to the heated foyer, not because I was acting like a devil’s minion.

  I was a good person.

  I pulled off my gloves and smoothed my hair.

  We followed the formally gowned women and tuxedo-clad men to the coat check.

  We’d worn jeans and tight black tops, slightly on the skanky side. Bitsie had said we’d stand out in a sea of donor beige. We’d straightened her hair, spent forty-five minutes on our makeup, including a delicate smoky eye that took two tries to get right, and we were underdressed.

  A svelte woman in a tinsel-colored A-line gown gave me a side eye, assuring me I belonged elsewhere, like behind the bar or the coatrack counter.

  I pressed my berry red lips together. Embarrassment pinched at me worse than my stilettos. Were Bitsie and I those girls who needed the sorority to tell us what to wear, or we’d show up dressed all kinds of wrong?

  Evidently. Grrr.

  A second lady in an eggnog-colored cocktail dress looked at me as if I were a billionaire groupie in a dress that unzipped from the front and had decorative wide safety pins holding the sides together. Which had not even been under consideration.

  Bitsie arched her eyebrows and scrunched up her face as she too realized our fashion misstep.

  How was I to know? Chance Kentwell was being honored for creating an athletic scholarship. Athletic-supporting girls wore low-cut minidresses and bounced. I thought we’d be seen as the classy girls who knew how to cover their skin in the winter. Oops.

  We handed our coats over and took tickets as if we’d made the $500 a plate donation and were carrying invitations. Which we hadn’t and we weren’t.

  There were a handful of guests ahead of us waiting to get through the main door. We were so close. Bitsie crossed her cranberry painted fingernails.

  I breathed out.

  The burly security guard with a buzz cut looked at the invitations two redheads in ornament-gold satin drape dresses held out. He jabbed his meaty thumb at the exit. “Official invitations only.”

  Dude, we hadn’t even thought to print fake invites. We needed a new plan.

  I grabbed Bitsie’s arm and pointed to the side hallway. “We can’t get in that way.”

  “You’re right.” Bitsie flushed the shiny red of a Christmas gelatin. “We’re dressed wrong. And…Tyler probably brought Madison.” All her mental doubts spewed from her lips. “We should go.”

  I knew she’d back out.

  Tyler and Madison had been together at our last three formals. So yeah, I was pretty sure Tyler had brought Madison too. “I’ll distract Madison and give you five minutes to make your move.” My interference truly was for a higher cause. Please don’t let this put me on Santa’s naughty list.

  Bitsie blushed impossibly harder. “My move?”

  My own cheeks heated in sympathy. “I’m not saying do him in a closet. Or even offer to do him. Just say, ‘Hi.’ That’s the only move you need. Fate will twine you two together. Or, it won’t.”

  Bitsie looked down the hallway as if searching for a closet. “Because doing him in a closet…that, err…that would be…bad?”

  I’d been trying to make her laugh or loosen up. “Yes. Obviously. I’m saying get on his radar. He’s going to be a lawyer, right? Get on his docket, not his briefs. You may abhor his arguing attitude, dislike his witty legal repartee, or want to sniff the poinsettia more than you want to breathe in his courtroom cologne.”

  Bitsie crossed her arms around her waist. “Or I may love him. Forever.”

  Bitsie was crushing so hard my own heart hurt. Empathy sucked. Bitsie was my closest friend in the sorority house. She’d helped me study, and she understood my goals. Some of our sorority sisters didn’t understand why I refused to make an appearance at every event but Bitsie did.

  I wanted to get into med school. I had to study. The correlation wasn’t that hard to comprehend to me. Bitsie had helped me. I would help her. Even if she didn’t realize, I was only here to help her become empowered.

  While we stood there talking, a number of women came through the door, and they formed a line to our right. All the women were tall and slender and dressed casually. They definitely weren’t donors or cleaning ladies, but I had no idea what kind of staff they were.

  A guy pointed for us to move over and get into the line. “Champagne girls, right? The queue is over there.” He spoke as if we weren’t super bright.

  A champagne girl sounded like someone who would get through the ballroom door, and into the celebration.

  Bitsie opened her mouth to correct him.

  I elbowed Bitsie, and made big, think it through eyes while backing toward the line.

  We followed the women ahead of us into a medium-sized side-room. Dressing rooms lined the back wall, candy cane costumes hung on each door. Sweet Christmas. “Come on,” I said, in case Bitsie wasn’t getting the hint.

  We darted to the nearest fitting rooms. I slipped on the dress. The bottom red velvet stripe ended at an angle above my knees. A white satin stripe wrapped my thighs. The candy-cane pattern went on until the top covered my chest and hooked above one shoulder with a holy sprig.

  I came out carrying my folded clothes and purse. Bitsie’s outfit hit just below her knees given how much shorter she was.

  The grey-suited middle-aged lady hurrying everyone along tilted her head at Bitsie. “You’re a little petite for this. Aren’t you?” From the height of the other girls, she’d definitely hired tall models. I squeaked in at 5’7” with tall heels. Bitsie was only 5’4”.

  Bitsie stared at the lady as if she had tossed out a really difficult physics question.

  The lady rolled her eyes. “Never mind. You’re pretty enough.” She looked at me. “And we have too many blondes already.” She eyed Bitsie’s chestnut hair. “You’re a nice addition.”

  Thanks a lot.

  “Put your stuff in a locker. Yes, your cell phones too. Take a bottle of champagne, circulate with the guests. Get your check from your agency.” She spoke slowly, like the guy outside had, as if models were dumb.

  My GPA and I resented the implication and her tone. But now wasn’t the time to educate the woman. The lady moved on to the candy cane champagne girls behind us.

  At least the dresses weren’t truly tacky. Whoever had arranged this event wanted a magical winter vibe. “That is so cute on you,” I said to Bitsie as we locked our stuff in a shared locker. “Candy cane is your color.”

  Bitsie giggled. “Yours too.”

  We picked up our bottles of uncorked expensive champagne and followed the other girls out.

  Bitsie licked her lips. “All we have to do is fill the guests’ champagne flutes.” She nodded. “I’ve got this.”

  I adjusted the green leaf jabbing into my shoulder. “No.” I lowered my voice. “All you have to do is find Tyler and chat with him. That is your only goal.”

  Bitsie slowed.

  A strawberry-blonde champagne girl gave her an impatient look and went around her.

  Bitsie licked her lips and checked out the ballroom entrance. “And if we see Madison?”

  “We will. I’ll fill her glass. And talk to her. That’ll get you a few minutes alone with Tyler.”

  Bitsie nodded and clutched the champagne bottle to her chest as if it were the last pair of size seven shoes at a half-off sale and she was headed to the checkout counter. We entered through the side door into a huge five-hundred capacity ballroom decorated in a snowflake theme. Up front, a suit-wearing, middle-aged guy was talking into a microphone extolling the virtues of Chance Kentwell.

  Chance is super wealthy, and he made a big donation. Blah. Blah.

  I strolled determinedly toward the front, guessing we’d find the Kentwell family there.

  Bitsie followed me.

  Guests turned to us as we went through the crowd, tipping their empty drinking vessels toward us. They�
�d drained the expensive bottles before we’d reached the third row of cocktail tables.

  Bitsie waved her bottle in an arc. “I’m out.” She looked freaking relieved.

  Not the right spirit at all. I frowned. “We’ll never make our way to the front at this rate.” I headed back the way we’d come with her on my heels. We got new full bottles. “If someone holds out a glass toward you, say your bottle is kaput, and point to another champagne girl.”

  “Got it.”

  We re-entered the ballroom and a little old lady held out her glass to me with expectant geriatric eyes and an impish grin. Grr. I topped off her glass.

  Two tuxedo-clad men edged in. I stuck my thumb over the top. “Sorry, we’re supposed to deliver these to the Kentwell family.”

  “Sure, baby,” the taller man said, and backed off.

  Bitsie pointed to another champagne girl, and the thirsty duo strode her way.

  We went through the crowd holding our bottles low by our side to be less obvious, but it wasn’t as if anyone could miss us in our bull’s-eye dresses.

  A trio of women in abstract patterned gowns got between me and Bitsie. “We’re supposed to deliver these to the Kentwell family,” Bitsie said uncertainly.

  The women weren’t moving.

  I put my hand on Bitsie’s shoulder. “You go. I’ve got this.” I poured the pear apple smelling champagne into their glasses, keeping my pours shallow.

  After I’d given in, each woman moved her gaze to the stage. The youngest said, “Chance sure is something. Endowing a scholarship while he’s still in school. Who does that?”

  I had no idea. I looked up at him. My heart did a little pitter-patter. The tuxedo-clad guy was that wicked handsome. Tall, athletic, dark-haired. Merry Christmas.

  The sight of him moved me forward. Why not meet the hot man of the hour while I was here?

  Chapter 2.

  Chance held an enlarged five-foot by two-foot check. The announcer took the other end while a photographer knelt before them taking photos. It wasn’t his obvious sign of wealth that drew me. There was something about him. He intrigued me from half a ballroom away. I wanted to meet the guy causing this feeling.