FORTY, FLIRTY & FAKE-LY YOURS

A FORTY AND FLIRTY BILLIONAIRES ROM-COM for the Grown & 🔥 Sexy

What can

you expect?

✔️ ONE GRUMPY BILLIONAIRE 💼 BOSS + ONE HEALING HEROINE

✔️  GROWN & SEXY 🔥 SPICE

✔️ CHARACTERS IN THEIR 40'S

✔️ MEDDLING (BUT LOVABLE) FAMILY

✔️ BANTER FOR DAYSSS

BOOK DESCRIPTION

OOPS! I just ruined Seattle's hottest tech billionaire’s $1000 shirt at my ex-husband's engagement party... to my cousin!

Instead of suing me, Grayson Dixon whispered four dangerous words: "You owe me now." Now, I’m the infamous CEO’s fake girlfriend for the next six weeks.

There’s only one problem: His AI claims we're perfect for each other—and I'm the bumbling, over-forty matchmaker who secretly set up his ex with her soulmate.

Now his algorithm is tracking our every move, and I'm running out of ways to hide the truth...

--


A full-length stand-alone. Perfect for fans of slow burn, billionaire rom-coms, big, meddling families, hot kisses in coat rooms, and cozy HEAs guaranteed.

Chapter 1

Downtown Seattle, WA

GRAYSON

The thing about algorithms is they can predict almost anything---market trends, weather patterns, consumer behavior. What they can't predict? The exact moment your ex-fiancée announces her engagement to her startup co-founder during your dating app's launch week.

At forty-five, I thought I was past caring about such announcements.

Apparently not.

"Statistically speaking—" I begin.

"I swear to God, Gray, if you say 'statistically speaking' one more time, I'm uninviting you from my engagement party," my best friend Alex interrupts, pacing holes into his office's Italian marble floor.

The Seattle skyline behind him is a wash of grays and whites, the early January afternoon already fading into the perpetual twilight of Pacific Northwest winter.

"You haven't even proposed yet," my other best friend Connor points out from the couch, not looking up from his phone. "Can't un-invite him from a party that doesn't exist."

“Can’t I, though?” Alex runs his hands through his dark hair for approximately the fortieth time in the past hour. I know because I've been counting. It's what I do—collect data points, analyze patterns, predict outcomes. Right now, all data points to my best friend having a nervous breakdown before he can propose to his girlfriend Mac.

My phone buzzes. Another TechCast notification.

"Stop checking it," Connor and Alex say in unison.

"I'm not—"

"'SecureMatch CEO Can't Match Himself: Dixon's Ex-Fiancée Announces Engagement While His Dating App Struggles,'" Connor reads. "Ouch."

"They used a decent photo of you," Alex offers. "Unlike that one from the tech conference where you look like you're choking on kombucha."

[Continue reading the rest...]

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