Fake-dating the Single Dad: Gems of Love, #3

By Agnes Canestri

Faux romance, real confusion - a heartfelt romantic comedy that gives plans an unexpected twist!

Love isn't exactly Nick's top priority. As a single father and a writer, his hands are already full. But when his ex initiates a custody battle, he's suddenly in desperate need of a pretend girlfriend to appear as a responsible family man. Enter Ginny, the perfect partner in this comedic charade! Yet, the more they delve into their "fauxmance," the more their sparks of attraction evolve into something undeniably real.

 

Ginny's objective is clear: secure a teaching position at the trendy Riversmith School. When Nick proposes a deal - fake affection in exchange for a job opportunity - she agrees, blissfully unaware that more than just her application could be on the line. Who would have thought that what started as a contrived match would lead to an unscripted love affair?

 

A sweet and uproarious romance centered around the "fake it till you make it" philosophy, intertwining two hearts in a captivating tangle of love and perplexity. Brace yourself for a whirlwind of sham dates, dreams of affection, and an ultimately heartwarming conclusion. Dive into a realm of emotional mix-ups and make-believe love - a tumultuous romance that attests to the fact that sometimes, the heart is the ultimate trickster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Agnes Canestri
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9783949202179

Book preview

Chapter One

(Ginny)

Ishifted my weight to the left on the bench. Just an inch more, then I could catch all the words being spoken between those two mothers.

I’m telling you, Margaret, if I could, I’d totally snag that nanny gig myself. Nick Peterson is the hottest single dad in this whole school. Plus, the man's rolling in cash. The pixie-cut lady with starry eyes gushed.

I shifted my head slightly to optimize my eavesdropping angle. They were definitely talking job openings, and not just any job – a position with none other than the literary sensation, Nicholas Peterson!

Could my borderline-obsessive lurking finally pay off?

The friend with wild red curls leaned in. Hold up, Amy. I mean, yeah, the guy's eye candy, but have you ever seen him crack a smile? Dude's like a human glacier. And he never lets his kid come to any of the playdates I set up for Dave. Poor little guy gets chauffeured home right after school.

I casually fished a napkin from my bag and, with calculated nonchalance, let it slip next to the redhead’s sandals. Then I promptly bent to retrieve it, accidentally poking her just enough to catch her attention.

When her gaze zeroed in on me, I offered an apologetic smile, my eyes twinkling with mischief. Oops, sorry about that. Wait a sec, are you Margaret? Dave's mom?

Her thinly plucked eyebrows shot up. Yep, that’s me. Do I know you?

Swallowing hard, I rolled with the spur-of-the-moment bravado. Not personally, but... hmm, I used to be the nanny – well, more like the ‘potential’ nanny – for one of Dave’s pals, uh... Fred.

Because aren’t half the kids in this town named Fred or something? Seriously, it’s like the unofficial name of the year.

Margaret’s face lit up. Freddie Knight? Seriously? What a treat. His mom couldn’t stop raving about how you worked your magic putting her little guy to bed on time.

I flashed a grin like I'd just won a round of poker. Oh, you know, it’s a gift.

Amy chimed in, ever curious. So, what’s your deal now? Didn’t catch your name…

I weighed the options: my real name or a good ol’ alias? In these situations, it’s usually safer not to end up on a watchlist for dubious playground behavior. Jessica. Jessica Smith.

Margaret beamed. Nice to meet you, Jessica. Are you looking after a kid here, or just hanging around?

I heaved a dramatic sigh, then dabbed my forehead for effect. Nah, not working at the moment. Just love this park. The guards let me in since they’ve seen me around with Freddie. My gig with his folks wrapped up, and I’m being picky about my next move. You know, gotta make sure the parents are on the right wavelength and all.

The ladies nodded, as if I’d just dispensed sage wisdom. Margaret even muttered, You’ve got a point there.

My throat tightened a little. Riversmith was supposedly the Holy Grail of institutions in the state, if not the whole country – that’s why I had my eye on it. Let's hope not all the moms were this... well, gullible.

I gave myself a mental slap for passing judgment. For all I knew, I’d stumbled upon the two most trusting mothers in town. But hey, it worked to my advantage.

Right, the game plan.

I couldn’t help but overhear your nanny chat. Do you think it’s something worth checking out? I sidelong-glanced them with my best innocent but curious smile.

This was the fork in the road. They’d either slap my wrist for being a nosy park lurker or feed me the golden nuggets I craved. Holding my breath, I awaited my fate.

Amy bobbed her head. If you mean the job with Nick Peterson, then absolutely. A nanny like you should totally go for it.

Margaret pouted a bit. It’s not all roses, though. Nick’s not exactly the easiest boss.

Amy huffed. Are any parents easy? She chuckled at the irony. But Nick, now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Plus, I heard you got paid decently with the Knights, but what Nick Peterson’s offering is probably out of this world. Word on the street is, he spares no expense when it comes to his kid.

I scratched my chin, playing the part. So, do you happen to know if he’s contacted an agency yet?

They exchanged glances, and Amy shrugged. Can’t say for sure. I only heard today that he’s on the lookout. He was talking to one of the teachers, asking around for suggestions.

My heart skipped a beat. It was all coming together. If I reached out to Nicholas Peterson today, I might just land the gig before anyone else even got their résumés out.

With a chipper smile and a little nod to the moms, I slung my bag over my shoulder. Well, that’s good news. I’ll see if I can catch Mr. Peterson in the mood. Thanks for the scoop. Catch you later!

The two women waved me off as I scooted off towards the parking lot, keeping my eyes glued to the pavement, dodging any potential conversations. It was one thing to finesse my way into the playground crew, quite another to explain to the guards why my supposed charge wasn’t with me when I’d confidently claimed to be here to fetch them.

I slid into my orange Chevrolet, the heat smacking me in the face the instant I shut the door. Sunshield. Again. I mentally slapped myself for forgetting. Sweat danced down my neck, an unwelcome partner staining my silk shirt.

Inserting the key into the ignition, I cranked the AC to max and rolled down all the windows. Phone propped up in its holder, I hit dial as I eased out of the parking lot.

After a few rings, my sister’s soprano greeted me. Hey, Ginny, what’s cookin’? Any luck with your wild scheme?

Giada had been ribbing me about this crazy idea all week. But guess what, it might actually be working!

A self-satisfied grin played on my lips. You know what? Actually, yeah.

She must’ve been mid-sip because I heard a slurp on her end before she went still as a statue. What d’ya mean, ‘yeah’? Did you snag someone for the referral?

Fine, the whole plan hadn’t quite jigsawed into place yet, but it was inching there. Not exactly. But I did stumble upon a desperate single dad.

Cue dramatic pause for effect. I could practically sense the suspense oozing from my sister through the phone. And? she prompted.

I cleared my throat, resisting the urge to shake her through the phone for not getting it instantly. Easy peasy. I’m gonna apply for the nanny position.

Why on earth would you do that? Giada sounded genuinely perplexed.

Deep breath, Ginny. Just because it’s crystal clear in your mind doesn’t mean it’s telegraphed to everyone else. Simple. Single dad in need? Nicholas Peterson.

That Nicholas Peterson? The writer? she gasped.

Cue my evil chuckle. Bingo. His kid’s at Riversmith preschool. My plan is: work for him for a bit, score a bomb recommendation letter when winter application time comes around.

Whoa, sis. It’s crazy enough to work. So, did he give you the gig yet?

The pit in my stomach twisted a bit. This was the glitch so far. How in the world was I gonna get in touch with Nicholas Peterson? Nah, not quite. But I heard it through the grapevine. Two moms at the playground were chatting about it.

Silence on the other end. I furrowed my brow, mentally checking if the call had dropped. G, you there?

Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Just waiting for the rest of the story. So what’s the scoop on this dad?

I gripped the steering wheel, leaning in towards the phone. The scoop, G? It’s Nicholas ‘Moneybags’ Peterson himself.

Nicholas ‘Moneybags’ Peterson, huh? The one rolling in dough and bestsellers?

I giggled, giving myself an imaginary high-five. You bet. His little munchkin’s at Riversmith. I’m thinking if I play nanny for a couple of months, he might just hook me up with a glowing reference.

Genius, Ginny! But did he offer you the job yet?

Uh-oh. The awkward part. How do I tell my sister that I got this from eavesdropping without sounding like a certified weirdo? Nah, not him exactly. I kinda...overheard it. I told these moms I used to nanny for one of their kids’ friends.

Cue a belly laugh from Giada. Oh, sis, you really outdid yourself this time. Then her tone turned serious. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Just swing by his place, stick to your story. Maybe just omit the part about the spying and say some mom tipped you off about an opening.

My sister was spot on – I could milk this for a bit longer. True, G. Makes sense. Guess I’ll keep the ball rolling. Thanks.

Sure thing. By the way, have you ever read any of Nick Peterson’s stuff?

I shifted gears, exiting the highway. Nope. Should I have?

Giada’s voice held intrigue. Actually, yeah. I’ve got one of his books here. Giordano just finished it. Doesn’t seem too spine-tingling. In fact, it’s pretty good.

He better be good, raking in all that moolah. Alright, I’ll swing by the bookstore, grab one of his novels, and then find my way to...hang on, I don’t even know where the guy lives.

In my brilliant master plan, I kinda forgot to cover this minor detail. What could possibly go wrong? Should I drive back to the school and loiter, hoping to spot those two moms again?

No sweat, I’ll ask Giordano to dig it up. I’ll text you the address in a bit, Giada offered.

Relief swept over me. Handy to have a private detective for a younger brother, huh?

Perfect, talk to you later.

Later, sis, Giada greeted me.

After the call, I steered my car toward the hustle and bustle of Phoenix Bay’s shopping streets, finally wedging the thing into a tiny parking spot. A peek in the backseat confirmed my silver sunshield was still there. Nah, skipping it this time again. I strolled toward Readers’ Paradise, scheming outfits for my big tête-à-tête with Nicholas Peterson.

Chapter Two

(Nick)

My vision blurred as I stared at the screen, the cursor blinking like a taunting little gremlin. Rewriting the same sentence five times? I should probably get an award for my dedication to futility. Maybe it was high time to call it quits. My muse seemed to be on an extended vacation—maybe even enjoying a sabbatical in the Bahamas.

With an exasperated sigh, I slammed my laptop shut, half-expecting the thing to groan in protest. My neck had turned into a battleground of knots, and I did my best to do some sort of neck-hula-hoop dance to ward off the pain. Fat chance.

But really, who was I kidding? The tension strangleholding me wasn't just from hunching over a keyboard. It was a real and live mess that had decided to take up permanent residence in my life.

Snatching my phone, I dialed my lawyer's number. Andrew had promised to keep me posted on the judge situation, so maybe he'd bring a nugget of joy to my pit of despair.

As the phone rang, I reached for the framed photo on my desk——a masterpiece featuring Jacob, the pint-sized pirate with a hat too big for his toddler noggin. I tried to rustle up a smile, but it fizzled out like a damp firework. My grip tightened, and I muttered to the picture like a crazy person, No way am I letting Heather drag Jacob away from me.

A quiet click echoed in the room as I forced myself to ease my grip—no point breaking the glass and adding drama to the already overloaded situation.

The phone clicked on the other end, Andrew's even tone filtering through. Hey, Nick.

Why was Andrew so hell-bent on not just jumping into the story like he usually did? This couldn't be good.

My throat turned to sandpaper. Andrew, spill it. What's the damage report this time?

He responded with his classic evasive chuckle, the one he used when he had a poker face even a bulldozer couldn't crack. Why do you always assume the worst, Nick?

Oh, the good ol' deflect with a question strategy. Andrew whipped that one out when he was feeling cornered. I'd lost count of the times he'd done that.

Fingers tapping impatiently on the table, I didn't mince words. Cut the evasion, Andrew. How did your tête-à-tête with the new judge go?

Andrew sucked in a breath, and the moment stretched like taffy. Judge Martha? She might be a tougher nut to crack than we figured. She's got this thing about kids growing up in families, and Heather playing the married card...

Yeah, with her fifth husband. Really setting the record straight, that one.

Andrew clicked his tongue, and I could visualize his frustrated expression. You don't need to remind me, Nick. But the kicker is that Judge Martha met Heather and her hubby on Monday. Called them ‘a lovely couple' and Heather 'maternal material.'

Grip tightening, I could feel my knuckles taking on a new shade of white. Does the judge realize Heather abandoned Jacob when he was barely in diapers?

Yep, but Heather pulled the remorse card. Said she's been invested in Jacob's life, always interested in updates.

I waved my hand like a Jedi dismissing a stormtrooper. That's a load of bull. You've got to prove it.

Andrew sighed, a you-have-no-idea-how-much-I-agree sigh. I'm already on it, Nick. But that's not even the fun part.

Oh, fantastic. A plot twist within a plot twist. Spit it out.

Judge Martha's got this soft spot for couples being the ultimate caregivers. And Heather gave the whole spiel about giving Jacob a 'real family.' She scored major points, buddy. Andrew's tone held an undertone of apology.

My jaw clenched. So I'd called that move correctly. Heather playing the broken family card to get under my skin and onto the judge's good side.

My gaze flicked to the scrap of paper on my desk—the one with the contact info for the nanny agency. Don't worry, Andrew. I'll take care of this. Heather won't be able to use my single status as a weapon for long.

There was a silence on the other end, then Andrew practically gulped into the receiver. Are you seriously planning to go through with your... unique idea, Nick?

Ugh, the skepticism in his voice grated on my nerves. Weren't Andrew and his infamous woman-hunt suggestions the reason I was in this mess in the first place? Funny, Andrew, I seem to recall you insisting I needed a woman in my life for the trial.

Andrew groaned. "I suggested dating, getting a girlfriend. Not embarking