Fake Daddy To Be Read Online Cassandra Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Fake Daddy To Be

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Cassandra Dee

Book Information:

I thought it was only once. We even used fake names.

But then I got pregnant.

Jolene: As part of a dare, I assumed a secret identity and snuck into a fancy formal-dress ball under the name “Trixie Dickson.” Okay, it’s a dumb moniker but it worked because a handsome billionaire swept me off my feet. I felt like Cinderella in my ballgown, except that this billionaire was no prince. The alpha male took me every which way, so thoroughly until I couldn’t breathe. Even more, I got pregnant that very night. Now what do I do?

Channing: Imagine my surprise when Little Miss Trixie Dickson (who chooses a name like that?) turns up on my doorstep the day after the ball. The sweet girl is curvy, sassy and utterly innocent with a mop in hand and her hair tucked into a kerchief. But I have a plan because Trixie Dickson isn’t just going to be my maid … she’s going to be my baby’s mommy!
Books by Author:

Cassandra Dee



* * *

My dream is to be a plus-size model. I want to travel the world, work with famous photographers, and see my image splashed on magazines. I’d love to experience exotic locales while dabbling in local customs like Peruvian loom-weaving and Japanese fan dancing, while also savoring bowls of pho and bites of Brazilian steak. These are big dreams for a girl from Kansas, but anything is possible if you put your mind to it, right? So after high school, I left everything behind with nothing but the clothes on my back and a dream.

Now, two years later I live in NYC, the fashion capital of the world. Although I want to say moving here is the best decision I’ve ever made, the reality is … well, things turned out differently than I expected. I’ve had modeling gigs here and there—I even did a commercial for vacuums last year—but there are long dry spells in between. All I can show for my efforts so far are a meager savings account and a tiny, two-bedroom apartment in the Bronx that I share with my best friend.

But I wouldn’t trade my life for anything, even though it’s not exactly glamorous in our pint-size walk-up with its laminate counters and peeling paint. My dream is still alive and well, after all – I just need to work hard and be patient. I know in my heart that New York is where I’m meant to be, and I’m destined for great things here. The problem is that I need to convince the rest of the world that Jolene Carson is the best plus-size model for their money.

I give my head a rueful shake. My hair is still damp from a shower and droplets fly out, splattering on the wall. Oops. Right now is not the time to think about dreams, though, because I need to focus on getting ready for the biggest party of my life. It’s called the Black and White Ball, and it’s hosted by Laurelin Saint, a pretty society type who always appears in the party pages of gossip magazines. Nonetheless, everybody who’s anybody is going to be there. As a result, it’s important to look my best and I have every beauty product that I own spread out on the countertop. The finest items from CoverGirl, Mac, and Colourpop clutter the space. Of course, I get most of my make-up free from my modeling gigs, but shhh! Don’t tell.

At that very moment, on the other side of the apartment comes a large sneeze. Ah-CHOO! Holy cow, was that my roommate? I hope Ava’s okay. She’s my partner in crime for the Black and White Ball. She better be feeling healthy because who am I going to go with if Ava gets sick?

But time is of the essence and I can’t be worrying about that now. With determination, I grab my brush, turn on the blow dryer, and attack my hair. If I let it air dry, it’ll get curly and frizzy and impossible to deal with, which means that I have to work quickly and efficiently. But I’ve been to this rodeo before, and by the time I’m done, my strands are sleek and relatively straight. I giggle at the image of myself in the mirror before gathering the strands up with a claw clip to let it rest before attacking the next part of my hair routine.

Then, a sneeze comes again from the other side of the apartment, loud through the paper-thin walls, and I frown. Oh shit. That does not sound good. With my hair in control, I go in search of my roommate. Ava’s in her room doing her makeup, and looking not her best, if I can be forgiven for saying so. My roomie, like me, is a curvy girl with brown hair and brown eyes. Ava is really pretty because she too is an aspiring plus-size model, but right now, her pale nose is bright red and her eyes are runny from all the sniffling. Worry coils down my spine as I look at her in the mirror.

“Ava, hon, how are you feeling?” I ask.

Her eyes flick to me in the mirror. “I’m fine!” she sings brightly. “Just give me a sec.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. I have eyes and obviously, she looks like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and not in a good way. But who am I to judge? “Okay, if you’re sure.”

I return to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I apply a light layer of foundation, and then lightly dust powder on my features. While that bakes, I do my brows, and then I focus on the eyeshadow. Using a bit of cardboard near the corner of my eye to manage fallout, I apply a nude eyeshadow before following up with a dark layer of a purple/gray color beneath my brow bone.