Fake Saint Novels & Stories

"I'm sorry. Who are you?" "I'm Lauren. Lauren Astor." The sound of Sofia choking splits right down the middle of our conversation. But still... not a single bell rings for me. Should I recognize the name? Sofia sure does. "I'm Damien's cousin." "Oh." Embarrassment overtakes me at the thought of his family member overhearing our entire conversation. She must think we have poor manners, truly from a lower class. My heart hammers to rewrite my mistake. "Look... I didn't mean to call Priscilla a—"

Clausfford's nervousness and eagerness are reflected in the tapping of his fingers on the wood of his desk. “Oh, I see, you walk your bitch under a fake ID, steal millions, and then have her choke on your dick. It's okay, I don't judge you, for meat like that anyone does nonsense - he does drink her liquor inviting me to do the same -. By the way, she was a beautiful woman, where did you get her from? I want one like that. I heard you work for the SCU, is that where women carved with the bodies of goddesses come from?

They claimed they weren't dating, but I was sure they were going on another date. "It's called Ghostwriting, Cathy." "Then, write your own stuff." She deadpanned. "I only write for the money as a side hustle. It's not a career path." "Whatever." "You guys should have fun though. I'll be there on the next one." I yelled out as Spencer rode past us without even saying bye. "Why lie?" I jumped at the sudden voice behind me, but then I remembered Blake was still present. "You're still going to make another excuse the next time. If it's not partying, you aren't in."

“There’s no Donovan Orlando down there! It’s a lie!” “This Gabriel Simpson is a fake!”

“A fake relationship is a fineable offense, but a fake engagement is corporate fraud, and if the board catches us lying about a marriage, they won't just fire me—they’ll blackball my license and sue you for breach of contract." "They won't catch us because we aren't going to look like we're lying," Stefan said, his strides effortless as he closed the distance between us again, his massive frame completely cutting off the exit until I was trapped between his chest and the brickwork, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the sharp metallic tang of the arena air.

"Nothing. Never mind." "Jane, what are you talking about?" "I have to go." "Jane, wait—" I hung up the phone. Within ten minutes, Sandra was at my door. "Jane, let me in." I let her in and immediately started crying. "Sandra, I'm so scared." "Of what?" "Of everyone finding out I'm a fraud." "You're not a fraud." "Yes, I am. Jane Phillips-Garrett is made up. She's a character I created."

Could she possibly see from a different kind of sight? "Dante, isn't it?" Strauss acknowledged his fake name. Dante, no surname. Aged 34. Grew up on the streets. No known family. Just a ghost who suddenly existed with the name Dante. Except that that information was all faked. "Yes," Brandon replied. Strauss took out a card from his jacket's pocket and passed it to him, "I'm Kennedy Strauss. Maybe you've heard of my name around here." Around here, around everywhere.

Or where to turn. Aiden sends me a picture of himself, shirtless. He's flexing his muscles. His lips are puckered. His curly blond hair has my stomach in knots. He deserves a real female. He's the bachelor lion that anyone could have. And for some reason, he chose me. And now we are fake. I always thought I would avoid fake. But here it is, knocking on my door. Fake is for Brittany. Brittany wears make-up, which I call fake-up. She's an actress, but this year, I'm an actress. The school is my stage.

"Since you can not get a mate, we found a fake mate for you and you have no choice but to accept" " A... A fake mate?!"