Not So Jolly: A Fake Fiancé Holiday Romance: Cutler Family Christmas, #1

By Lark Anderson

There are few things my workaholic god of a boss Roman Cutler enjoys more than making my life miserable, and one is just out of his reach, thanks to his dear, sweet mom—firing me.

 

What's worse than losing the files to your boss's pet project? 
Finding out your ex-best friend is marrying your ex-boyfriend.

 

Single and unemployed is not how I'd expected to spend the holidays, so I stick around the office in a sea of tissues and self regret.  

But when an unlikely turn of events leads to my boss's interest in securing an insta-fiancé, it turns out he still has a use for me.

That's right—my tall, muscular, obnoxiously sexy boss asked me to marry him. 

 

Now, I'm fake engaged to one of the world's most eligible bachelors, showing up in supermarket tabloids and at premiere restaurants. It's a match made in desperation, but I can't deny it's genius, and thanks to this fiasco, I don't look like such a loser to my exes.

 

He's smooth as fine wine as I bumble for the cameras. I offer an endless stream of apologies, but it turns out my carelessness plays straight into Roman's plan. 

But as calculating as he is, neither of us could have foreseen the consequences of our coupling—what happens when fake feelings turn real?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lark Anderson
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201092382

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

MELODY

There comes a time in every woman’s life when they wonder if they should just throw in the towel and become a stripper.

I mean, every woman goes through that, right? I can’t be the only one.

Sure, I have two left feet and the depth perception of a cyclops, but at this point, I’m pretty sure I can do anything better than my actual job as assistant to Roman Cutler.

With how dissatisfied he is with my performance, it’s a wonder I haven’t been fired. After all, I’ve spent the last two years as the epitome of hot mess and fucking up his coffee.

With Christmas just a few weeks away, you think he’d lighten up, show some holiday joy.

Not Roman Cutler—the lit-er-al grinch of my life.

Maybe I should go the cam route. Then again, that might not be an option for me. I hear OnlyFans is saturated, and I don’t want pictures of me floating around the internet.

Mulnar! Roman barks.

I turn to see my boss hovering in the doorway, his icy gaze piercing me like a fishing spear.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Killing him right now would not be self defense.

What’s perhaps most tragic in all this is that he’s so freaking handsome. Tall, dark hair, mischievous hazel eyes—a body to die for. He is H-O-T—HOT with enough money to join the billionaire space race.

Yes, sir? I chirp, granting him a wide, phony grin.

The Sinclair files—where are they?

My stomach drops. I remember putting the Nolte files on his desk. Esterbrook went up the chain to his father.

If I can’t walk across the stage in four-inch heels, I could always crawl.

Don’t tell me you lost the file, Roman says with an edge to his voice that has me running through possible songs to dance to.

I don’t recall⁠—

Jesus Christ— he growls, raking his fingers through his tousled hair. Why my mother won’t let me fire you is beyond me.

Now I know how I’ve survived this long.

I’ll go in the drive and reprint the documents.

He folds his arms across his chest. And there’d still be a file floating around containing confidential information.

I’d fire myself if I could. Not that I’d be able to find another job. The market is tight right now, with no sign of improvement.

I know because I look every day.

I hear a good stripper can make six figures a year.

But what does a bad one make? Because you can barely walk from carpet to tile without tripping.

I’ll look everywhere, Mr. Cutler. I promise to find it.

His jaw locks as it does when he’s frustrated. The Sinclair file is of the utmost importance. We’re looking to buy up properties they’ve kept an iron grip on for the last thirty years. This could be our only shot, and so help me, if you muck it up, there won’t be anything my mother can do to stop me from sending you packing like I should have done years ago.

Understood.

Roman storms from my office, leaving his threat hanging in the air.

I rack my brain, trying to recall the Sinclair file, but I’m at a loss.

Typically, my flubs center around non-consequential matters. Getting drink orders messed up, cussing, forgetting to take out the office trash…okay, so there was that time I almost killed Roman. I forgot to tell the restaurant to forgo mushrooms, which Roman is highly allergic to. He survived, but for a hot minute, as his entire face swelled and he gasped for breath, I was wondering if I could get charged with manslaughter.

Losing a work file isn’t like me. I rarely miss deadlines, and I never lose work.

But Roman wouldn’t get the facts wrong. His brother Nick might, but Roman is the golden child. I’d take his word over mine any day, though his would be acidic and laced with poison.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out to see a text from the ghost of my one-time friend. I say ghost because she’s dead to me.

Jenna: I was hoping that time really does heal all wounds.

I snicker. That’s easy for her to say. We’d been best friends since grade school, eventually moving in together after graduation. Growing up, our home lives had been less than ideal, and we depended on each other to get by.

I studied to get my degree, but she couldn’t escape her past, and I had to watch her fall into a cycle of drinking and drugs I was scared she’d never climb out of.

But she did. Somehow, miraculously, she got clean and sober three years ago, and as far as I can tell, she hasn’t slipped once.

Of course, I was ecstatic. I’d stayed by her side through the ups and downs of her addiction, even after she stole from me. Which happened more than once.

But the most valuable thing she stole was after she got sober.

I feel so stupid now, having disregarded every warning sign and red flag.

I started dating my high school sweetheart, Dale, when I was seventeen. If there is one thing I crave in life, it’s stability. Perhaps because I had so little as a child. Dale was predictable to a fault, and we fell into this relationship I thought would last forever.

He was with me when I’d bail Jenna out of jail, when I took her to rehab, when I dumped out the gallons of liquor she had stowed away under her bed. She was a train wreck, but I loved her, and Dale never once complained about how much effort I put into helping her get well.

Then, a year and a half ago, the power went out at work and they sent us all home. In case you haven’t already guessed: I walked in on them together.

After six years of dating, when I thought he might actually be close to proposing, he fucks my friend.

But that’s not the worst part. Afterward, Jenna refused to move out, and I was stuck living with her for four months, with Dale dropping by daily.

Finally, I found a room for rent and went from living in a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment to what feels like a ten-by-ten prison cell.

Unable to stop myself, I pull up Facebook and peruse her page.

No…it can’t be.

I squint my eyes closed for a good ten seconds before reopening them to look at her most recent post. It’s a picture of her and Dale together. She’s holding up her hand, showing off a megawatt diamond that can only mean one thing.

I can’t do this. Not right now.

I throw my phone into my desk and begin searching through the mountains of paperwork I have scattered around my office. Anything to keep my mind off my heartbreak.

After I search the surfaces, I start in on the file cabinets, going so far as to take each drawer out so I can sit and wallow in self pity as I continue my hunt.

Roman Cutler is the worst. I can’t continue like this. I’ll work two jobs if I have to.

A lie I tell myself because I can’t afford to leave. I’m heavily in debt due to student loans and can barely afford the room I’m renting.

I look at the clock and see that it’s seven, a whole hour after I’m supposed to get off, but I’ll stay here all night if I have to, because if I can’t find this file, I don’t think any amount of pleading is going to stop Roman from firing me.

CHAPTER TWO

ROMAN

Sorry I’m late, I say as I slide into the chair next to my brother Nick.

Mother continues cutting her steak, not bothering to look up at me. It’s what I’ve come to expect from you.

I was busy at the office⁠—

There’s always going to be more work. There won’t always be another family meal.

I snicker. And you say I’m dramatic.

You should listen to your mother, Father says, but casts me a wink when she’s not looking.

Father was just as much a workhorse in his day as I am, though my mother somehow managed to tame him. Which is why I’ve avoided serious relationships. I’m married to my work and wish to remain so.

I still can’t believe Melody lost the file. This is actually worse than the time she nearly killed me. At least if I had died, I wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout of my father’s crushed dreams.

Did you hear about the fire? my youngest brother Chance says. The Miltons might be found responsible due to negligence. If they go under, we could buy up their property dirt cheap.

Mother puts down her fork and knife and gives my brother a compassionate look. I understand why that might seem encouraging, but that fire took out quite a few homes as well.

Chance