Famously Fake Read Online Sarah J. Brooks

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A fake relationship with a celebrity bad boy is all fun and games until the line between what is real and fake begins to get blurry. I was just trying to take my rambunctious dog on a walk. I never thought it would lead to a chance encounter with my celebrity crush, and I definitely didn't think that chance encounter would lead to a fake relationship with said celebrity crush! At first, it's a ton of fun, and I finally feel like I belong in Los Angeles, but things start to get a little fuzzy when I fall into bed with my fake boyfriend. It turns out pretending to date someone is hard, but really dating them is even harder. I like Spencer but I can't find this balance he keeps talking about. Around every turn, there's someone or something threatening to tear us apart. I can't decide if being with my dream guy is worth the trouble, or if I should give up and head back to my old life in Massachusetts.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One – Leila

I press my phone against my ear with my shoulder as I take a sip of my coffee. It’s a beautiful, sunny Los Angeles afternoon, and I’m out with my dog Shiloh for a long walk through the park to try and ease up on some of his energy. It’s the perfect time to catch up with my best friend, Abby, who still lives on the East Coast.

“I’m serious, Abs; it’s been crazy. I’ve been in LA for six months now, and I’m not closer to fixing things at the new California branch of Frills. I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing was a mistake.”

Abby huffs in my ear. She exercises for fun, going for runs before work every morning, which is what she’s doing now. These walks with Shiloh, a rambunctious golden retriever, are enough exercise for me, thank you very much. There’s a reason one of us is a personal trainer, and I work as an interior designer.

“You’ve only been there six months. I think you need to give it at least a year. I mean, how much can you actually get done in six months?”

“We’ve had exactly ten clients in that entire timeframe. Ten! We’d do that many in a week out of the Boston office.”

“Well, you knew the market would be more competitive there.”

I sigh, switch the coffee cup to the hand holding Shiloh’s leash, and move the phone from my shoulder. The screen is slimy with my sweat.

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be this hard. I assumed Rebecca would’ve had more clients lined up. She expects me to build an entire list out here from the ground up. I don’t know anyone in Los Angeles! How am I supposed to network when I have no friends or contacts out here? I miss home.”

Tears well up in my eyes, but I fight them. I’ve seen plenty of girls crying on the streets of LA, most of them done up nice and pretty, probably getting rejected from yet another interview. I’m not about to be one of them. Six months hasn’t changed me into an LA girl yet, though I get closer every day.

Which is yet another reason I’m convinced I need to go home. I miss the introverted lifestyle of hiding in my cheap apartment and only going out when my ex-boyfriend wanted to. Since he was working on his residency, he rarely did, which worked out just fine for me.

“You’ve never been the type to give up,” Abby points out.

I sigh again. “Is it really giving up if the situation is hopeless?”

“It still counts. Give it another six months at least.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re supposed to come to visit me in four.”

Abby laughs. “Maybe.”

“I do miss you. I wish you could come sooner.”

Before Abby can answer my desperate plea, Shiloh catches the scent of something he wants to chase and pulls the leash right out of my hand, causing my coffee to spill all over the sidewalk.

“Shiloh, NO!” I call after him. “Shit, I’ve got to go, Abs. Shiloh is getting away!”

“Call me later!” she yells as I’m hanging up. The phone slips out of my hand and onto the sidewalk, but I can’t bother picking it up right now. Shiloh is darting through the crowds of people in this Los Angeles park.

I guess I’m going to be getting a run in today after all.

I weave in and out of innocent people out for a lunchtime stroll, yelling apologies over my shoulder and ignoring their griping about my loose dog.

“Shiloh, please, stop, stay, wait, sit!”

The dog looks back at me with his perfect brown eyes and a smile on his face, his tongue dangling from his lips, but he doesn’t stop running after who knows what.

“Watch it!” a woman wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse with perfectly coiffed hair shouts at me. “Keep your dog on a tight leash, moron.”

I shoot her a dirty look, not bothering to apologize. I understand this is entirely my fault, but people in Los Angeles are incredibly rude. Not that the folks in Massachusetts are much better. This same thing happened before Shiloh and I moved three thousand miles across the country, and the people in Boston were just as upset about it.

I try shouting my dog’s name again, but he doesn’t even turn around this time. He’s far in front of me, and his four legs are much faster than my two.

I should’ve taken Abby up on her morning runs, I think as I huff and puff, not willing to stop and risk losing Shiloh forever.

Thankfully, this park is over a mile long, and we were only an eighth of the way through when Shiloh shot off. That also means I could run an entire mile and still not catch up to the dog.

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