Fake it For Fortune

FAKE IT FOR FORTUNE A FAUX LOVE NOVEL BOOK 10 WESTON PARKER STAR KEY PRESS CONTENTS Find Weston Parker Description Introduction 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 Epilogue Insider Group About the Author Copyright FIND WESTON PARKER www.westonparkerbooks.com DESCRIPTION Whoever said money can’t buy happiness is a liar. Take it from me. It buys loads of thrills. That is until my father sabotages me with a contingency. To have all my riches? I need a wife. Talk about old school. When I catch wind of a dating agency that helps billionaire bachelors like me, I see an opportunity. Appease my dad. Pretend to have a bride for six months. Give her the money. Walk away single and with my fortune. Easy, right? If only. She’s the beauty to my beast. The girl the agency gives me is all kinds of trouble in a sexy hourglass. The worst part? My family loves her. Mom wants grandchildren. Dad wants a legacy. I thought I knew what I wanted. But now I only want her. Introduction Hey! We’re missing you over here at the Parker’s Insider Group. Where you at?!? Come grab your spot with the best book part in town and let’s connect. Also you get a FREE novel when you join, cause, why not? See you on the inside… Get it HERE 1 DYLAN I poured myself a drink and meandered out to the patio in my backyard. It was a nice evening. Warm but not too hot. It was nights like these that reminded me life was good. I could hear the many insects that lived in the expanse of grass and trees on my property coming out to play for the evening, mingling with the sounds of the neighbors’ kids in the backyard pool. There were tall, green shrubs and trees along the inside of my privacy fence which blocked prying eyes, but it didn’t do much for the sound. I didn’t mind. It broke the quiet. I carried my scotch and walked to the edge of my own pool, getting lost in the gentle waves rippling across the surface. I thought about going for a swim, but I was too lazy to go through the whole process of getting my swim trunks on. My bedroom was on the second floor of my big-ass house. That was the downside to living in a sprawling home. I stared at the water and considered stripping. No one could see me. It had been a brutal week and I wanted to sink into oblivion and just not think anymore. My brain hurt. I was two seconds from stripping when I heard heavy footsteps crossing the tile floors in the house. I wasn’t worried I was about to get jumped. There was exactly one person that would show up at my house and let himself in without bothering to knock or ring the bell. “Don’t jump,” Trevor Young, my best and only friend, joked. “I was thinking about it,” I said. “I’m getting a beer,” he said. “Want one?” I held up my glass. “I’ve got a drink.” “You’re low on beer!” he shouted from the kitchen. “If you resupplied it, I would have beer,” I called back. I heard his laughter. He came to stand beside me, sipping the cold beer. “What are we doing?” “Debating jumping in,” I replied. “You’ll get your fancy suit wet,” he said. I slowly nodded. “I would. Unless I took it off.” “I don’t want to see your junk.” “Then don’t look,” I said, shrugging. He laughed again and walked to one of the deck chairs. His heavy construction boots were the very opposite of my Louboutin oxford shoes. We couldn’t be more different. He was blue collar and I was white collar. I came from money and he had made every penny he had by busting his ass doing some of the hardest labor I could imagine. He’d been brought up in some pretty rough neighborhoods and I basically grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Shit, my family owned a fucking castle in northern England. I sat in the chair next to his and stretched out my long legs. That was one thing we did have in common—we were both tall. I was about an inch taller than him at six three. “Did you just get off work?” I asked him. He took another drink. “Yep. I’m on a job about a mile away. New construction. Some rich assholes are building a little mansion. The woman is hot, but damn she’s obnoxious.” “We usually are,” I said, laughing. “I swear, if you ever hook up with one of those, do not expect me to come around,” he warned. “I can’t stand anyone that thinks their shit doesn’t stink. That just because they have a big bank account, they are somehow elevated above the rest of us poor humans.” “You could work for me,” I told him. It wasn’t the first time I had offered him a job in one of our companies. He was a damn hard worker. I would love to have him as the lead in one of our factories. He held himself to a high standard and no one would ever convince him to lower those standards to meet a deadline or to make anyone happy. “I would rather sit on crushed glass,” he said. “I would rather put my balls in a vise. I would—” “I get it,” I said. “I could pay you ten times what you make right now.” “Nope.” He shook his head.