The Accidental Girlfriend, an all-new hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart is available now!

 

Top Tip: Don’t put out an online ad offering your services as a fake date. Someone will take you up on it.

And it won’t just be for one night.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up being Mason Jackson’s fake girlfriend.

He didn’t even want me to be. No—his sister was solely responsible for me being his date for his ten-year high school reunion.

Now, she’s responsible for telling his parents our relationship is real.

We have no choice. We have to act like this isn’t all a mistake, like it’s not all fake, like we’re totally, completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with each other.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

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My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

You know, if we were monkeys, she’d be the kind of person I’d fling my poop at.

 

This is why you’re single. The only filter you use is on Instagram.

 

“Give the kid a break, Nadia,” Grandpa Ernie said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and reaching for his whiskey. “He’s only twenty-eight. Men don’t have alarm clocks in their genitals like you women.”

 

It’s about time you got back out on the market before you go stale. Women are starting to date younger men, did you know that? I see it all the time on that celebrity channel with the housewives.

 

She was the kind of woman who’d run out of f*s to give by her fifth birthday and couldn’t care less what anyone thought about that. There was a chance we could be friends. I regularly found myself lacking in f*s. Unless I stubbed my toe, then they all came pouring out.

 

“I’ve got a list of grievances, if you’d like to hear them.” “Why don’t you keep them up your sleeve for now, Aunt Pru? You never know when you’ll need them.” “Quite right, quite right. I’ve been saving them for my speech at your wedding, but I’m starting to think you’ll never get married.”

 

Thankfully, that ship has sailed and sunk.

 

My Review:

 

This wickedly funny treasure was a total delight; my face got a workout from near constant giggle-snorting and smirking as I read.   The characters were adorable and uniquely appealing, I was endlessly entertained by Lauren’s sharp wit and clever snark, she was a feisty and saucy minx. Written in my favorite dual POV, the crisp and engaging storylines sparkled with irreverent humor and impudent levity. I couldn’t get enough of it and rued reaching the last page.

 

Excerpt:

“I’ve seen you eat nothing but junk. Are you one of those irritating people who can eat what they want and put on no weight?”

“Okay, first.” I held up one finger. “You look like you could walk into the cast of the Avengers, so don’t come at me with that. Also, I run. Every day. And I don’t always eat junk.”

“You run?” His eyebrows shot up.

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.”

“No, I just—you don’t look like a runner.”

“And you don’t look like Chris Hemsworth, but here you are on my sofa looking like a dark-haired Norse god,” I shot back. “What’s your point?”

He held up his hands, fighting another laugh, one that made his eyes shine. “Hey, I have a physical job. I rarely get to the gym, but I’m always moving.”

“Have you ever worked behind a bar? I’m not exactly running a call center back there. It never stops sometimes.”

“Do I look like I mix cocktails?”

Doing what he’d done just minutes before, I took a long, hard look at him, from head to toe.

It was a mistake.

If I were a sloth, I wouldn’t just climb him like a tree; I’d hang off him for a nap, too.

Lord, he was hot.

Focus, Lauren.

“No,” I said. “You look like the lone wolf who waits for the cocktail-drinking girls to accidentally spill their drinks on your shoes.” I glanced at the time. “Speaking of, I have to go and make those cocktails.”

Mason grinned. “You want me to come and get hit on by drunk girls?”

“As someone who has no say in your life whatsoever, I don’t care what you do.” I stood up and looked at him over my shoulder. “As your fake girlfriend, I’m a bit of a tiger, so I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” He snorted, following me to the front door with his laptop tucked under his arm. “I’ve seen you play the possessive girlfriend. If this weren’t all fake, I would have been a little turned on.”

I locked the front door and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Please. You were totally turned on.”

He said nothing as we headed for the stairs.

“You can say something. That was a joke.” I glanced at him, heat rushing to my cheeks.

His lips pulled into a smirk, eyes flashing. “I reserve the right to not respond.”

About Emma Hart

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.

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She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.

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Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.

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Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.

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