I have forty days to convince my fake fiance that we can’t be real. Because there’s no such thing as love at first sight–right?
Forty Day Fiancé, an all-new must-read romantic comedy standalone with chemistry that jumps off the page from New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy, is out now!
Admittedly, my first plan was a little crazy.
I had forty days to execute it. Find a fake fiance, move in with him, and convince the powers-that-be that we’re madly in love.
Surely this British girl can sweet-talk a few American officials.
Step One: the sexy, wealthy doctor I’ve been chatting up agrees to my plan–with a demand of his own. A baby. An actual ring. A for-real marriage and family. Turns out, there’s someone more bonkers than me.
So Step Two: I now have forty days to convince my fake fiance that we can’t be real.
Because there’s no such thing as love at first sight–right?
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Excerpt“I’ve just confessed to having a crush on you and catfishing you,” Felicia said. “Should I leave?” “But you really do love Russian authors, British rock, and Australian beaches?” She nodded. “Yes. And I do hate pickles, self-checkout, and tequila.” I tried to mentally scroll through all of our conversations and ascribe them to the woman standing in front of me. It wasn’t hard to see that it made more sense than the woman I’d gone to dinner with. The real Savannah. Who had been sweet but not as sharp-witted. “You, Michael, love true crime novels, British rock as well, and Belize. You hate chewing gum, buffering on the internet, and people who are cruel to animals.” She set her wine down on the quartz countertop. “It was me, I swear, and everything I wrote was the truth.” I studied her. She looked sincere. I’d really enjoyed talking to her and she clearly remembered our exchanges even though it had been a month back. They’d meant something to her, like they had to me. “Then I guess you owe me a dinner date with the woman I was actually talking to,” I said. “Because she and I were having a great conversation.” She tilted her head and gave me a small, but very sexy smile. “Oh, really? I owe you that?” I nodded. “I think you do.” I came around the island so I could be closer to her. I glanced at her lips. “You told me you have a policy of always kissing on the first date, remember? Just to test chemistry. I’ll be expecting that as well.” “I see. You drive a hard bargain, sir,” she said. “But I’m prepared to make restitution.” “Excellent.” She really was gorgeous. She was wearing a red sweater that contrasted with her dark hair and showed off a slim build. I could definitely imagine kissing her and more. “How does Thursday sound?” Felicia raised her eyebrows. “You don’t waste time.” “No, I don’t. And I don’t have time for games.” I’d already wasted a decade of my life focusing on my career only. “Ouch. Duly noted. No more deception, I swear.” I wanted a relationship again. I wanted to be married, to wake up next to a woman who wanted to share her life with me. Over the years of being single I’d had a few hookups and a couple of women who had wanted a friends-with-benefits scenario and that had been perfect for me at the time. But now I wanted to know a woman inside and out, to love every inch of her, to have the luxury of being able to touch her. Ironic, really. I wanted everything all at once as usual. It was how I’d been successful in my career. Go for it. Grab what I wanted by the balls. I reached behind me for my wine. I took a sip and studied her. Felicia slowly slid her tongue across her bottom lip under the scrutiny. Her eyes darkened. She leaned almost imperceptibly toward me. She wanted me to kiss her. Not Thursday, but now. So I did what I always did. I went for it. I set my glass down and reached out and took her glass from her and set it next to mine. I slid my hand into her dark, straight hair. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Felicia. I’ve enjoyed talking to you, you little catfisher.” “I’ve enjoyed it as well.” Her voice was a low murmur, breathy, aroused. I bent down and covered her lips with mine.
USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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