Fake Fiancee Read Online Books by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, College, Erotic, Funny, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
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A black jeep whipped into the parking spot next to me and my breath caught.

“Someone you know?” Max asked.

“My ex.” The anxious feeling I’d woken up with grew in the pit of my stomach.

“You dated Bart Morgan, the pitcher of the baseball team? Huh. Maybe that’s why you look so familiar. Maybe I saw you at the athletic banquet last year?”

I nodded.

“He’s why you don’t date athletes?”

“He’s why I’m not dating anyone. All I want is to graduate and get out of here. I don’t need anyone but myself.”

“Ah. He played you,” Max said.

“Like a banjo.”

Bart exited his car, grabbed his book bag, and took off for the sidewalk. He never even glanced in our direction.

My face flamed at the memory of how I’d trusted him even though Isabella had warned me he had a reputation. I twisted my fingers into my hair, tugging on it.

Max’s eyebrows furrowed, and he pulled my hand out of my hair. “Hey. What happened between you two?”

I fidgeted, realizing that Max had been watching and scrutinizing my reaction to Bart.

“Sunny?”

Maybe it was because it was the first time I’d heard my name on his lips or maybe it was the scathing look he’d sent Bart’s back as he walked away—but whatever it was, I let myself sink back into the car.

“He . . .” My voice trailed off as I recalled his birthday party. It had been a warm night last spring, and I’d been exhausted after working my shift at the library. Excited to see him after his busy week of games and being on the road, I drove straight to the baseball frat house without calling him first. I found him at the back of the den, lying on a couch with his hands down another girl’s pants—in full view of everyone at the party. And totally oblivious I was standing there. Gaping at them.

He’d been such a LIAR.

Oh, baby, I love you.

Oh, baby, you and I are meant to be.

I chewed on my lip. “He was with another girl . . . I watched them . . .” I paused, remembering the humiliation.

“Want me to kick his ass?”

I half-smiled. “No.”

“You still care about him?”

“I shouldn’t. Do you still care about Bianca?”

“She’s going to be in our class.” His face hardened.

My mouth opened. “No way.”

“Way.”

I shook my head. “Aren’t we just a bunch of losers?”

He thought about that for a moment. “I hate losing—at anything.” A light dawned in his eyes. “I have an idea. Let’s walk in that class like we’re together and blow their fucking minds.”

I started, even more so when he reached across and grabbed my hand.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t disentangle our hands, though.

He edged closer to me, his face earnest. “Let’s show them we’ve moved on—to bigger and better things. What do you say about being my pretend girlfriend for class today?”

What?

Was he nuts?

I shook my head to clear the fuzzies. “Slow down a minute. Are you—gay?” How horrible.

He sent me a get real look. “No. I’m just feeling unsure this morning—not an emotion I’m used to. I’d like to walk in there and show her that I’ve met someone special. Start the semester off with a bang.”

“Are you serious?”

A wicked grin curled his lips. “Why not? Let’s screw with them.”

My thoughts raced, grasping at a reason to say no. I couldn’t find one.

He had offered to fix my car if the groupie didn’t pan out. He’d even stopped and gotten me coffee. Plus, it would be nice to waltz past Bart with the most popular guy on campus next to me.

Normally, I’m the least impulsive person ever, but what could possibly go wrong if I pretended to be his girlfriend?

Nerves and excitement flew over me. “Let’s do it.”

Max

WE STOOD WAITING FOR THE elevator, Sunny a good two feet away. Her expression was composed, yet I sensed nervousness. She’d been quiet since we’d agreed to do this, and I hoped she wasn’t regretting it. The idea of a fake girlfriend was growing, taking root in my head.

“I don’t have a disease,” I teased, poking at her arm, trying to get her to relax. At this point, no one was going to buy it.

She considered me with a serious expression. “Whatever. I’ve heard about your reputation with the ladies. Love ‘em and leave ‘em seems to be your motto.”

“Meh. That was freshman year when I was stupid.” I grinned. “Maybe sophomore year too—but I’m clean as a whistle. Just had a complete physical.”

Her gaze shot to the crotch of my jeans and then to the wall. She swallowed. “Nice to know. I’ll file that away under my Things to Know About Max Kent folder—which I’ll never use.”

I grinned. “And no one’s going to believe you’re into me unless we play it up, which means I’m going to have to kiss you before we walk into class,” I said.


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