Getting dumped is bad. Getting dumped on live radio while trapped in a dentist’s chair? That’s next-level humiliation. For me, it’s also the wake-up call I needed to declare a do-over with a list of anti–New Year’s resolutions: no more dating, no more diets, no more soul-crushing work, no more chasing impossible standards, and absolutely no more trying to please my mother.
Easy enough—until my mom starts plotting a reunion with my ex. Desperate to throw her off, I invent a boyfriend. The problem? I accidentally name Nate, my infuriatingly hot, razor-jawed next-door neighbor.
Now I have to fake-date the guy who isn’t actually my boyfriend while keeping my family from finding out. What could possibly go wrong?
