Falling for Your Fake Fiancé (Love Clichés, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

“Love doesn’t hold things over people’s heads until they obey. Love isn’t a puppet master making his wooden son dance.”

“Playing hard to get?” “I don’t play games. I am hard to get.

Sure, call me fickle and shallow. But I believe the fabric of a person can be known by their stitching. That is, the small parts helping to make up the whole quilt.

My eyes are stinging as I look down at more food than I usually eat in a day. I’m starved, but not just for the calories and the taste of this luxury. I am starved for someone who will take care of me like this.

He’s feeding you lines, D. Just lines. And you know what we do with lines? We cut ’em. We do not take the bait. No matter how shiny. Cut. The. Line.

“Don’t you dare say mistake.”

Today’s note was a line from John Donne: “Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove of golden sands, and crystal brooks, with silken lines, and silver hooks.”

“I’ll make every meal for you if you want. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I don’t need to go to work. I’ll just stay here and be yours.”