I'm Holly Snow and I'm in desperate need of a miracle. I've been raising my five-year-old niece, Faith, since she was a baby. As much as I love her, I was twenty-three when my sister died. There was no way I was ready to be a single mom. At this point, I'll take any job that allows me to look after Faith while I work—as it doesn't involve anything weird or illegal. So, when my bestie, Toni, tells me her boss needs a personal shopper to take care of all his Christmas needs, I leap at the opportunity. When I say yes, I have no idea Mr. Incredible will also need a fake girlfriend. 

It’s official. I’m totally hopeless at love, parenting, and life. Single mom? Check. Massive debt? Check. A sassy daughter who inherited my gift of snark? Ugh. Check. I work three jobs, go to school, and do my best to be in my kid’s life. Men are the last thing on my mind. I wouldn’t have time to look at a man even if he fell into my lap. Until he does. Thanks to my spawn who keeps calling some famous relationship expert, airing my disastrous life in her podcast. 

Avery Spark is living her best life. Between her friends, her sisters, and Spark House, the event hotel her family owns, she doesn’t have much time for anything else, especially relationships. She’d rather hang out with her best friend and roommate, Declan McCormick, than deal with the dating scene. But everything changes when she is in a car accident and needs someone to care for her as she heals.

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.

Marry a man I barely know to save my family from ruin. It might’ve been simple, if my betrothed were anybody else. On our wedding day, my husband-to-be arrived at the courthouse like a black cloud rolling over Manhattan. Walt didn’t crack smiles or pepper in pleasantries as we exchanged hollow vows in front of the judge. His disdain for me was so palpable I assumed we’d walk out of that ceremony and resume our regularly scheduled programming. But then fate was like, Hold my beer. I got this.