Holly's Fake Date for Christmas

By Ann Omasta and Callie Love

Jewelry designer Holly Hennessey's life never goes quite right. The pink positive sign on the pregnancy test is even more proof of that. Her one night of drunken debauchery is going to change everything.

 

Holly's family insists that she come home to the Florida Keys for the holidays. Unfortunately, her ex-boyfriend, Liam, and his beautiful fiancé, Bella, will be there.

 

Unwilling to admit the truth about how she got knocked up, Holly devises a plan to keep from looking like a complete fool in their eyes.

 

Gorgeous Zane Alexander will be the perfect fake date for Christmas. She convinces the handsome, seductive man to pretend to be her boyfriend and baby daddy. Once the holidays are over, they'll stage a breakup and go their separate ways.

 

There's only one problem with Holly's grand scheme… There's much more to sexy Zane than she imagined.

 

Will Holly be able to let Zane go when the time comes? Will Zane's surprising secret ruin everything? Find out now in the steamy romantic comedy, Holly's Fake Date for Christmas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: More Happily Ever Afters
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215697290

Ann Omasta

Ann Omasta is a USA Today bestselling author.  Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities: I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk. I love, love, love finding a great bargain! Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick! ** I would LOVE to send you a free copy of my novella, Aloha, Baby! Visit annomasta.com for details. ** Stay up-to-date on new releases and insider info by liking / following Ann: - Facebook: facebook.com/annomasta - Goodreads: goodreads.com/annomasta - Bookbub: bookbub.com/authors/ann-omasta - Website: annomasta.com

Book preview

1

HOLLY

Istare at the pink plus sign, unable to believe my eyes. After blinking my eyelids several times to clear the symbol away, the blasted thing is still there, as if it’s mocking me. This can’t possibly be right. Pregnant? Me?? I’m barely able to take care of myself––let alone anyone else.

I’m still sitting on the toilet, staring at the offending pee stick and trying not to have a complete panic attack when Phoebe raps on the stall’s door. Holly? Are you okay in there? I’m getting ready to make the big announcement of this month’s matched couple, but wanted to wait for you.

After clearing my throat, I try to find my voice. Despite how much I hope to sound normal, my tone emerges in a breathy squeak. Umm, yes, I’m fine. Go ahead without me. I’ll be out later to see who was paired with December’s man of the month.

Phoebe doesn’t fall for my weak attempt at sounding calm. Her voice is tinged with genuine concern when she says, You don’t sound okay. What’s wrong?

I take a deep breath in an attempt to force my heartrate back down into a somewhat normal range. My stomach is just a little upset. It’s no big deal. Don’t make everyone else wait for me.

Technically, the upset tummy excuse is the truth. I’ve been queasy for weeks, and now I know why.

If you’re really okay? The woman sounds uncertain about leaving me, but I’m sure she secretly wants to get back out to the group waiting for her in the bar. She’s the matchmaking application’s creator and the ringleader of this popular meeting. The way her face lights up with joy when she announces the new matched couple each month makes it obvious that this is her true calling.

I’m positive, I assure her, before adding, Get back out there and do your thing.

Phoebe remains outside the stall for a long moment as she thinks it over. Eventually, she says, Okay, but if you’re not out there in ten minutes, I’m coming back to check on you.

Deal, I quickly agree, hoping I can manage to pull myself together before she returns.

After she leaves the restroom, I wrap the pregnancy test in some toilet paper and dispose of it in the stall’s trash receptacle. As soon as I dump it, I wonder if that is the kind of thing a good mom would hold onto as a cherished memory.

Shaking my head, I realize that I certainly wouldn’t want to see anything my mom had peed on, so I sincerely doubt if my child will want to see the first evidence of his or her existence. Confident that I made the right call, I emerge from the stall to wash my hands.

A woman, who has obviously already had a few drinks, stumbles into the restroom. She has smudged black mascara under both eyes. After looking me up and down, she says, You look awful.

The rude stranger makes her way into the stall I just left, so I turn to stare at my reflection in the mirror. She’s right. My skin’s pallor has a greenish hue that makes me look a bit alien-esque. The paleness of my tone accentuates the dark half-moons under my eyes. My normally lush mane of hair is stringy and hanging limply over my shoulders.

I look even worse than I feel, and I have absolutely no business being at a matchmaking meeting in a bar. The last thing any eligible bachelor would want is to be paired with a pregnant hot mess of a woman like me.

After I finish splashing cool water on my face and drying with a brown paper towel, the drunk woman flushes the toilet and emerges from the stall. She barely spares a scowling glance at me before turning to leave the restroom. I cringe at the realization that she isn’t going to wash her hands, but decide it isn’t my place to comment on it.

When I see that she has a long trail of toilet paper stuck to her shoe, I step forward to put my foot on it. As I hold onto it, she walks out of the ladies’ room without ever knowing the tissue tail was there. She may have been a bit harsh with me, but I prefer to rise above. Besides, it’s not like her assessment that I looked awful was inaccurate.

Perhaps my good deed will bring me some positive karma. I could definitely use some of that right now.

As I walk out of the restroom, I wonder if I should buy a journal to jot down all of the useful life lessons I want my child to learn––like being kind to others who may be fighting battles we know nothing about.

Suddenly, it hits me that in a matter of minutes I’ve gone from being completely self-centered and pouting about my long-lasting ‘flu’ bug, to thinking of important principles I want to teach my child. My queasiness isn’t an inconvenient illness, it’s a baby. There’s an actual living being inside me!

The realization is both terrifying and exhilarating. I grab the back of the chair of one of the excited ladies at the group’s table, who is bouncing in obvious hopes that her name will be called as the best match for December’s bachelor.

Phoebe is in the middle of introducing the tall, handsome man hovering awkwardly just behind her. I half-listen as my mind spirals. Suddenly, it dawns on me who the father of my baby is. I’ve only been intimate with one man in the past few––okay, twenty––months.

Dizziness overpowers me as I feel what little color I had drain from my face.

Beaming a wide smile directly at me, Phoebe says, Great timing because you’re the best match…

I shake my head as the raging dumpster fire that is my life comes into full view. The bar swims in my vision as I attempt to make sense of this new reality.

Phoebe pauses her speech, seeming