The Screwup: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Romance (The Holbrook Cousins Saga Book 2)
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The Screwup
Alina Jacobs
Contents
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Mailing List
1. Allie
2. Carter
3. Allie
4. Carter
5. Allie
6. Carter
7. Allie
8. Carter
9. Allie
10. Carter
11. Allie
12. Carter
13. Allie
14. Carter
15. Allie
16. Carter
17. Allie
18. Carter
19. Allie
20. Carter
21. Allie
22. Carter
23. Allie
24. Carter
25. Allie
26. Carter
27. Allie
28. Carter
29. Allie
30. Carter
31. Allie
32. Carter
33. Allie
34. Carter
35. Allie
36. Carter
37. Allie
38. Carter
39. Allie
40. Carter
41. Allie
42. Carter
43. Allie
44. Carter
45. Allie
46. Carter
47. Allie
48. Carter
49. Allie
50. Carter
51. Allie
52. Carter
53. Allie
54. Carter
55. Allie
56. Carter
57. Allie
58. Carter
59. Allie
60. Carter
61. Allie
62. Carter
63. Allie
64. Carter
65. Allie
66. Carter
67. Allie
68. Carter
69. Allie
70. Carter
71. Allie
72. Carter
73. Allie
74. Carter
75. Allie
Mailing List
Afterword
The Scion sneak peek
The Scion Synopsis
1. Liz
2. Wes
3. Liz
4. Wes
Purchase the Scion
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2018 by Alina Jacobs
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Created with Vellum
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Check out other books in this series on my website:
http://alinajacobs.com/books.html
Synopsis
He brought a fake fiancée to family dinner and she's stirring up trouble.
Carter Holbrook—bad boy, heir to billions, and the family screw up. He can't help but cause trouble wherever he goes, be it at a family gathering…or at Allie Larson's bar.
Proud of her work ethic and self-reliance, Allie will do (almost) anything for money, and she readily agrees when Carter asks her to be his fake fiancée.
For his latest and greatest instigation, Carter wants to bring this sassy bartender home for dinner at his family's posh New England estate.
Keeping business and pleasure separate is how she's survived on her own all these years, and to endure the long weekend as Carter's fake fiancée, Allie concentrates on the facts.
One: His family is horrified to learn she's Carter's (fake) fiancée.
Two: It doesn't matter how trashy she acts because she will, thankfully, never see Carter or his family ever again.
Three: Carter actually kisses her.
Wait…what?
Allie knows she's not the type of girl who really marries a guy like Carter. She knows the weekend at the Holbrook estate was just for laughs. But when fate serves up a special drink of its own and pushes Allie and Carter together, can Allie let herself be loved?
The Screwup is book 2 in the Holbrook Cousins Saga, but can be read as a standalone novel. This 85,000 word steamy romance novel has no cliffhangers but does have a very happily ever after.
To my readers. (All ten of you!) You make this all worthwhile!
Acknowledgments
A big thank you to Red Adept Editing for editing and proofreading.
And finally a big thank you to all the readers! I hope you have as much fun reading this book as I had writing it!
Mailing List
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1
Allie
It was Thursday night at the Wildcat bar, and the topless contest was about to start—the topless contest for men, that was.
If it were women, that would be unseemly. Allie Larson, the bartender, snickered to herself.
"Greasing up for me, boys?" she asked as she deftly poured shots for the shirtless marines who flexed their muscles at her. The entrance fee for the contest was ten dollars, but the grand prize was a kiss from Allie.
It was a hot event; the bar was packed, and the fire marshals were waiting outside the building to shut the establishment down if things spiraled out of control.
The Les DesChamps Marine Corps base was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Marines with too much disposable income made up most of Allie's clientele. Despite their raunchy behavior, Allie had a soft spot for the young enlisted men who frequented her bar.
"Have your eye on someone good?" her fellow bartender and roommate Stacy asked as she quickly poured a set of Jägerbombs for the boys.
"They're all about the same," Allie said.
They watched as the marines who were competing took a fortifying shot and greased up.
"I have my eye on Carter Holbrook," Stacy said, giggling.
"Ah, yes. Mr. Moneybags," Allie replied with a snort.
"You mean billionaire heir," Stacy replied, handing over three beers.
"I can't believe his father dumped him in the military," Allie said. "If I had Holbrook family money, I would send my kids to nice places, not the military."
"He flunked out of Harvard," Stacy told her. "He's a tragic case, though. His aunt killed his little cousins in that house fire over Christmas a few years back."
"Oh, he's related to them?" Allie said. "That was a horrible story." She had heard about that fire. It was international news, after all, but she never had connected it to the Holbrook family. "You know all the gossip, don't you?"
"Oh yes," Stacy said, "I follow his family religiously. He was just in his cousin's wedding. It was a lovely affair." She sighed longingly.
"Hey!" Allie said, banging a glass in front of Stacy. "Pour more drinks. I want to clear a thousand in tips tonight. I need to pay for another college course. I’m almost finished with my degree."
Stacy wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you're actually still trying to finish college. You're almost thirty; it seems pointless now. Just stay a bartender. Tips are good, and the view is nice," she said and winked at an exceptionally muscular marine.
"I can't bartend in my forties," Allie scoffed. "I'm not going to en
d up like my mother and rely on an ever-decreasing quality of men."
"There's no shortage of qualified men here," Stacy said. Ducking back behind Allie to hook up another keg, she said, "I'm landing a husband this year, and I don't care what I have to do."
"Set your sights lower than Carter Holbrook. His parents won't let him marry some trash like you." Allie winked at her friend to let her know she was kidding.
Stacy stuck her tongue out at Allie and slid the drinks across the bar. Bert, the owner of the Wildcat, did a sound check on the speakers and handed Allie the microphone.
"Hey, boys," she said over the sound system.
The marines all hooted as she jumped up on top of the bar.
"It's midnight, and you know what that means!" She grinned at them as they catcalled her. "It's shirtless contest time. Let's have our first contestant up here."
The marine took a shot from one of his buddies then jumped up on the bar. His flexed his muscles and did a little dance.
Allie watched and made commentary as each of the ten contestants strutted up and down the bar top. The Wildcat held one of these contests every month or so, and she had the timing down pat. The last contestant was Carter Holbrook. He sprang up onto the bar in one fluid motion then stalked toward Allie.
"Last and perhaps the least—maybe his battle buddies can let us know what he looks like in the showers—Carter! Show us what you've got, devil dog!"
The marines watching cheered as Allie pursed her lips and blew a kiss at Carter.
The marine stopped directly in front of her and did a startlingly sexy stripper move. She could tell Carter Holbrook's good breeding in the way he walked. He didn't have a decade of stress lines on his face, his teeth were straight and white, and his hair, as long as it could be while still being within regulations, was glossy.
Though she considered herself a grizzled veteran of the Camp Les DesChamps bar scene, Allie blushed when Carter looked straight at her, a bedroom look in his eyes that promised pleasure. He gave her a mock salute then did a backflip off of the bar.
"Wow," she said into the microphone, hoping no one noticed the squeak in her voice. "Looks like someone isn't drunk enough!"
The marines all hollered.
"Someone buy this man a drink, and then I'll make my decision." She jumped off of the bar and helped Stacy fill more drink orders.
"Who are you going to pick?" Stacy asked her.
"Me, obviously," Carter Holbrook said, pushing his way in front of the bar. He passed her ten one-hundred-dollar bills. "A round for everyone!" he yelled over the din of the bar.
Allie started pouring drinks, pointedly ignoring Carter. He reached a hand over the bar to grab for her.
"No!" she said and smacked him on the hand with a metal spoon.
"Ouch!" he yelped, jerking his hand back.
"Don't reach over my bar," she growled and gestured threateningly with the spoon.
"Yes, ma'am."
After the drinks were distributed, Allie grabbed the microphone and climbed back up on the bar. "It's that time of the night, boys. I'm going to declare a winner. We had a great showing tonight, and I can tell no one's been skipping PT."
"Who's the winner?" someone yelled out.
Allie smirked—she loved drawing this out.
"And after much careful deliberation, the winner is…"
All the lights in the bar came on. The marines hissed and shielded their eyes.
"Hey!"
"What the—" her patrons cried.
Several firemen pushed their way inside.
"Clear out! Clear out now!" The head marshal pushed his way through to Allie and gestured for her to give him the microphone. "Everyone needs to go back to base," he announced over the sound system. "This bar is over capacity. All of you need to leave immediately."
He handed the microphone back to Allie.
"Sorry, boys. You heard the fire marshal. Everyone settle your tab and exit, please, in an orderly fashion."
As the marines either filed out of the bar or lined up to pay, she and Stacy hurried to settle any remaining tabs.
"Who won?" Carter demanded, cutting in front of the line.
"Contest was canceled," she said while mentally trying to tally one man's total.
"But—"
"You’ve already paid, so leave. Now," she ordered.
Carter looked at her petulantly. "I would have won. I want my kiss."
"Out!" she yelled.
2
Carter
Shivering in the November chill, Carter walked back to the Les DesChamps base with his friends. Tyler was half carrying Leo, who had just spent the majority of his paycheck on alcohol.
"I should have won," Carter complained.
Leo flung an arm around his shoulders. "You were great," he said.
His alcohol-laced breath made Carter gag.
"Hold on," his friend slurred. "Gotta use the men's room." He staggered over to a pile of trash. "Hold me up," he said as he unbuttoned his pants, swaying.
Carter propped his friend up as Leo watered the garbage heap. Carter heard something rustling in the trash pile.
Leo yelled, "It's a rat! It's going to bite my—"
"It's not a rat," Carter said as the animal nosed its way out of the garbage pile. "It’s a dog!"
"That is the ugliest dog I've ever seen," said Tyler.
"Here, pup pup!" Carter called, bending down and holding his hand out for the dog to sniff. The little white dog crept over to him, shivering.
"She's probably cold," he said. "You're so skinny!"
The dog looked ill. It was missing an eye and part of an ear, and it walked with a limp due to an amputated front leg.
"What’s her name, do you reckon?" Tyler asked as Leo pitched forward and landed face-first in the urine-soaked garbage pile.
Carter picked up the dog with one hand and used the other to help Tyler haul Leo up. Gagging from the smell, the men slowly started the walk of shame back to base.
"I think I'm going to call her Maggot," Carter said. "She's little and white."
Tyler nodded. "Makes sense to me."
"Should we do a rideshare?" Carter asked.
"Not with that animal and Pukey McPuke-Face over here. A walk is good. It's not that long. We'll sober up in time for PT," Tyler replied.
The sun was just starting to rise as the guard at the gate greeted them. They weren't allowed to have pets in the barracks, so Carter shoved the dog down the front of his pants.
"I bet we make it back just in time for PT," Tyler said.
Leo yawned and stretched as he handed over his ID. "Nice walk."
"We carried you through most of it," Tyler said with a glare.
The guard waved them through, not asking about the bulge in Carter's pants. He and his friends jogged the rest of the way back to the barracks and changed for PT.
"This sucks," Carter said under his breath as their lieutenant stood in front of them, practically dancing on the balls of his feet as he gave some stupid motivational speech.
"At least you're almost out," Tyler whispered him. "Couple more months, and you're a free man."
"I won't miss this place for one minute," Carter said as they all started off on the morning run.
Carter could smell the alcohol wafting off of Leo's sweat as they walked back to the barracks after the lieutenant released them.
"I think you might have a drinking problem," he told his friend.
Leo made a rude gesture. "You're about to have a dog problem. I heard a rumor that Sergeant is doing room inspections today. You need to find something to do with that animal."
Carter ignored him. They never had room inspections on Fridays. He fished the dog out of the nest she had made in his dirty pants and headed to the showers. There wasn't any hot water, of course, so he cleaned himself and the dog off as quickly as he could. While dressing in his room, a fist banged on the door.
"Inspection!"
"No," Carter groaned as the
door slammed open. He stood at attention as his sergeant and a corporal stepped into the room he shared with three other marines.
"Is that a dog?" his sergeant asked after a moment. "You're getting a write-up, Lance Corporal, and that animal is going straight to the pound."
"But it's a kill shelter, sir," Carter said, as he quickly thought up a lie. "And she's not my dog. She belongs to a friend of mine; I found the dog wandering around. Just let me call my friend and—"
The sergeant held up a hand. "You have thirty minutes, and that animal had better be gone when I come back."
"Yes, Sergeant," said Carter as the sergeant and the corporal left the room.
Carter slumped down on Tyler's bunk. "What am I going to do?"
"You don't have anyone you can call?"