{"product_id":"faking-christmas-isbn-9780593638361","title":"Faking Christmas","description":"\u003cb\u003eLaurel Grant is playing house for the holidays—complete with a fake husband and kids—in this delightful, charming rom-com by Kerry Winfrey.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaurel Grant works as the social media manager for\u003ci\u003e Buckeye State of Mind\u003c\/i\u003e, an Ohio tourism magazine and website. She most definitely does \u003ci\u003enot \u003c\/i\u003erun a farm . . . but one tiny misunderstanding leads her boss, Gilbert, to think she owns her twin sister Holly’s farm just outside of Columbus. Laurel only handles the social media for the farm, but she’s happy to keep her little white lie going if it means not getting fired—she \u003ci\u003ecannot \u003c\/i\u003ebe jobless again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd keep it going she must when Gilbert, recently dumped by his wife, invites himself over for the farm’s big Christmas Eve Eve dinner (as advertised on Meadow Rise Farm’s Instagram, thanks to Laurel herself). Laurel immediately goes into panic mode to figure out how she can trick Gilbert into thinking she’s basically the Martha Stewart of rural Ohio and keep her job in the process.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLaurel and Holly come up with the \u003ci\u003eperfect \u003c\/i\u003eplan—all Laurel has to do is pretend to own the farm for one dinner. But Laurel shows up at the farm to find an unwelcome guest is waiting: Max Beckett, her nemesis since Holly’s wedding. The annoyingly attractive man she hates will be posing as Laurel’s husband just for the evening, but when a snowstorm traps them all for the entire weekend, Laurel is going to have to figure out how to survive with her job and dignity intact. Whatever the case, this promises to be the most eventful Christmas in ages. . . .\"When I finish reading a Kerry Winfrey book, all I want to do is inhale ten more Kerry Winfrey books. \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e feels like a favorite Christmas memory: warm and fun, with a loving family who will do anything for each other. I absolutely LOVE the witty, relatable Laurel, and her opposites-attract interactions with Max had me both cracking up and crying 'Kiss! Kiss!' I can’t wait to have the paperback in my hands so that I can wear it out every Christmas.\"—Sarah Hogle, author of \u003ci\u003eJust Like Magic\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Kerry Winfrey never misses! This take on a Christmas classic is so full of charm, swoon and smiles that I'm ready for a re-read and I just finished it! If ever there was a perfect holiday rom-com, \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e is it!\"—Lynn Painter, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Love Wager\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \"\u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e is the cozy holiday romance of my dreams. Full of the humor and hijinks of a classic movie, with Kerry Winfrey’s clever, hilarious, and utterly original voice, this book is an absolute joy.\"—Martha Waters, author of \u003ci\u003eTo Swoon and to Spar\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Kerry Winfrey was made to write a Christmas romance, and \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e fills the bill perfectly! A cozy Hallmark Christmas movie in book form, it's warm and sweet, quirky and just a little silly. The kind of Christmas story I'd want to re-read every December.\"—Jen DeLuca, author of \u003ci\u003eWell Traveled\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Faking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e is truly delightful! Sparkly as twinkle lights and warm as a crackling fire—this seasonal romance is every swoony reader's dream!\"—Sarah Adams, author of \u003ci\u003eWhen in Rome \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003ePractice Makes Perfect\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like Mariah Carey performing 'All I Want for Christmas Is You,' Kerry Winfrey hits all the right notes in this super cozy and charmingly chaotic enemies-to-lovers romcom. \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e is a story you'll want to snuggle up with again and again—the perfect comfort read for the holiday season. I enjoyed every hilarious, heartfelt moment of this delightful book!”—Sarah Adler, author of \u003ci\u003eMrs. Nash's Ashes\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Inspired by holiday classic \u003ci\u003eChristmas in Connecticut\u003c\/i\u003e, Kerry Winfrey takes fake dating to the next level in this seasonal romp… \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e sparkles with more wit and whimsy than a piece of tinsel.”—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Fans of both romance      and Christmas have hit the jackpot with this one, a magical treat that      will leave you swooning and hopeful that your next unexpected love is      right around the corner.”—Shondaland\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"With a keen eye for both the wacky and the wonderful, Winfrey (\u003ci\u003eJust Another Love Song\u003c\/i\u003e) rings in the holidays with a clever comedy of errors...The sweet romance blooms organically amid the chaos and Winfrey uses it as a vehicle to touch on deeper themes of loneliness and self-esteem. The results are utterly adorable.\"—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In Winfrey’s latest rom-com, opposites attract amid festive holiday fun. Winfrey mixes up a tale of tenderness, mischief, and friendship as inviting as your favorite Hallmark movie. Holiday hijinks and fake dating make Winfrey’s romantic comedy a cozy classic.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Anyone who’s ever enjoyed a quirky heroine, a Hallmark Channel movie, or the classic \u003ci\u003eChristmas in Connecticut\u003c\/i\u003e should rush to pick this one up.\"—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For pure festive rom-com fun, look no further than \u003ci\u003eFaking Christmas\u003c\/i\u003e…This is hot chocolate in book form—warm and sweet.”—BookPage\u003cb\u003eKerry Winfrey \u003c\/b\u003ewrites romantic comedies for adults and teens. She is the author of \u003ci\u003eWaiting for Tom Hanks, Not Like the Movies, Very Sincerely Yours,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eJust Another Love Song\u003c\/i\u003e, as well as two young adult novels. She lives with her family in the middle of Ohio.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMichael Bublé croons about Santa Claus coming to town as I cruise down I-70, my eyes ping-ponging between the road and the clock. It's not that I'm late . . . in fact, a mere seven months ago, I would've considered this early. But that was back when I was Old Laurel, the one who was the conductor of her own personal Hot Mess Express, the one who never met a situation she couldn't screw up, the one who, as my best friend, Jamilah, put it, ran on \"Laurel Time\" (which is to say, always at least fifteen minutes late).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut that's not who I am anymore, I remind myself. Now I'm New Laurel, the one who arrives on time and doesn't implode her life with her own poor decisions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy downfall this morning was stopping at Starbucks. I intended to grab peppermint mochas for my boss and myself, but then I got wrapped up in a conversation with the Starbucks drive-through employee when she complimented my Christmas tree earrings and I said I loved her Santa earrings, and then we talked about our Christmas plans and . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWell, long story short, now I'm going to get to the office for my pre-holiday meeting right on time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI get off the highway as Michael Bublé fades out and the radio DJ tells everyone that a white Christmas is in the forecast. Personally, I'll believe it when I see it. As someone who came out of the womb loving Christmas-my twin sister and I were born on December 25-I literally dream of a white Christmas, but I'm used to gray ones. I don't know if we really had more snow in Ohio when I was a kid or if my memories are fudged by the blurry lens of nostalgia, but I've been burned too many times to put much stock in the meteorologist's promise of snow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt's three days before Christmas, and although I typically work remotely, my boss scheduled a meeting before my official holiday vacation starts. I started working at Buckeye State of Mind, a magazine and website whose slogan is \"Everything great in the Buckeye State,\" a little over six months ago. Our main purpose is to highlight restaurants, tourist attractions, parks, businesses, and anything that's special in Ohio. I run our social media, write a monthly online column, and soon I'll be writing other stories, too (well, fingers crossed, anyway).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pull into our strangely empty parking lot-only Gilbert's Subaru is here-and turn off the car. I close my eyes, picturing myself in my Mind Oasis, as outlined in the book Creating Your Mind Oasis and Finding Inner Peace. New Laurel has a Mind Oasis that's a calm, clean, all-white room. The Mind Oasis even has a white sofa, because in my mind I can't get red wine or brownies or Cheeto dust on it. The Mind Oasis is a place of perfect peace, and it's where I go when I need to center myself. No longer am I sitting in my Toyota Camry, surrounded by the empty Starbucks cups littering the floor, reminding me of peppermint mochas long since gone. Now I'm on my pristine Mind Sofa, listening to the sound of the ocean waves on the shore (the Mind Oasis is on a beach, naturally), simply being.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOld Laurel didn't even have a Mind Oasis. She had a Mind Junkyard. But now, with the guidance of every self-help book the Columbus Metropolitan Library system had on the shelf, New Laurel is ready to conquer this meeting, this day, and my entire life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI check my hair in the rearview mirror. My shaggy, long bob hangs in blond waves. I brush them out of my face, then use a finger to flick away an errant mascara flake and dab at my Starbucks-smudged seasonally appropriate cranberry red lipstick. I give New Laurel a wink. She's got this.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI use my hip to slam the door of the Camry, since I'm currently double-fisting peppermint mochas, and walk into the building. It would be great if magazine life were glamorous, like in The Devil Wears Prada, and I could run through city streets as I hurried to make it to my downtown high-rise office before my stylish but cold boss realized I was late. I'd spill coffee on myself, and she'd look down her nose at me, and I'd spend the next hour and forty-five minutes of screen time attempting to win her approval before finally realizing that there's more to life than work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJamilah also says I have a tendency to turn everything into a story. That's why she encouraged me to apply to this job at the magazine, actually-she thought I'd love writing other peoples' stories. And I would, but that's only sort of what my job entails.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf course, my real life is nothing like that fantasy sequence, mostly because our office is out in the Columbus suburbs where the rent is cheaper, and Gilbert isn't a stylish older woman with a severe bob and a tendency to judge people. He's a middle-aged man with a kindly orange mustache, and I've never heard him yell at anyone. The most upset I've ever seen him was when he got mildly annoyed that Jimmy John's left the turkey off the turkey sub he ordered for an office lunch meeting, and even then he pretty much immediately pivoted to positivity and ate his bread, lettuce, and cheese sandwich without complaining. (\"You know, I've been trying to eat less meat, anyway.\") He doesn't critique my fashion choices, probably because his button-down shirts have seemingly permanent mustard stains on them from dropping his lunchtime hot dogs on himself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut that doesn't mean I'm not a little uneasy as I step into the office to find it empty and dark, aside from the light coming from Gilbert's office in the back corner. It's a typically gloomy Ohio December day, so even with the window blinds open, it's almost pitch black. The tinsel on the office Christmas tree dances silently in the warm air pumping from the heating vent. It's like Die Hard in here, but without Bruce Willis around to rescue me (unless he's crawling through the air ducts, as he's wont to do).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI tiptoe toward Gilbert's office and the golden light peeking out from his partially open door. Should I turn around and run? Am I an idiot for walking in here? This certainly feels like a situation in which I'm either going to get murdered or propositioned, and I can't think of which one of those is less likely coming from Gilbert.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I am capable,\" I whisper to myself, repeating a mantra I learned from Manifesting the Badass Within: How to Use Mantras to Supersize Your Life. \"I am strong. I can defeat any intruders with my brute strength.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOkay, so that last one wasn't in the book, but it seemed like a good one to add right now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI hold my two coffees up like a shield and shout, \"I have a black belt in karate!\" as I kick open Gilbert's door. This isn't strictly true, given that I took one karate class in fifth grade before giving up, but I need to project a strong image.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGilbert, slumped over his desk, looks up at me. \"That's really great, Laurel.\" He sniffles. \"That must've taken a lot of work, but I'm not surprised. You're one of my most dedicated employees.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat's when I realize that Gilbert is crying, and not the kind of eye-leaking you can disguise as allergies. This is full-on sobbing, the kind I never expected to see from my boss, a man who unironically listens to \"Never Gonna Give You Up\" as his morning pump-up jam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Gilbert,\" I say, putting his coffee down in front of him. \"Is everything okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shakes his head, and I hand him a tissue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Some things are okay,\" he says. \"I'm alive. That's good.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI nod slowly. \"So we're starting with the basics here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sighs. \"Just trying to have an attitude of gratitude.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I know that's important to you.\" I point to the poster behind his desk: a waterfall with the words \"The best attitude is gratitude\" written on it. Honestly, it's a wonder that Gilbert became a regional magazine\/website editor instead of a middle school guidance counselor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe blows his nose with a honk, then lets his head fall to his desk. \"Charlene left.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pause, then sit down across from him on the maroon office chair. \"Left to go . . . where?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rolls his head to the side, peering up at me. \"My wife left me, Laurel.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"She left you?\" I gasp, which sets Gilbert off again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It sounds even worse when you say it,\" he sobs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI exhale and look around the room, as if the posters on these office-neutral beige walls might guide me on what to say. \"It's her loss,\" I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sits up and shakes his head. \"She left me for our accountant. I'm the one who's the loser. She's gone and her new man knows all my financial details. It's humiliating.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI have nothing else to say-I've only spoken to Charlene once when she stopped by to pick Gilbert up for lunch after one of our in-office meetings, and we mainly talked about their kitchen renovation. Not enough detail for me to decide whether she's a good person, but leaving Gilbert for their accountant might slot her firmly into the \"bad\" category.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I brought you a peppermint mocha,\" I finally say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGilbert sits up and sniffs the red cup appreciatively. \"You remembered.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI give him a sad smile. \"Yeah. It's your favorite.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shrugs and takes a sip. \"What can I say, I'm a basic bitch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn any other circumstance, I would immediately text Jamilah and tell her that my boss unironically referred to himself as a basic bitch. But we've got bigger problems here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So.\" I clear my throat, wondering if a subject change might be good for Gilbert's mental health. \"Where is everyone? I thought we had a meeting.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe puts down his cup and waves a hand dismissively. \"I sent them all home and cancelled the meeting. It's the day before holiday break starts, I'm a mess, and they might as well go enjoy their lives while they can. Before everything goes to hell. Sorry I forgot to tell you it was cancelled, but I was busy surveying the wreckage of my marriage.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Well . . .\" I trail off. \"That's okay.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGilbert seems to use all his strength to give me a watery, pasted-on smile. \"So what's going on with you?\" The visible tears on his cheeks make him look more \"sad clown\" than \"interested boss.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Just getting ready for Christmas with my family. I'm heading to my sister's . . . I mean, my sister's heading to my farm tomorrow,\" I stammer quickly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGood save, Grant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That's so nice,\" Gilbert says with unnerving cheer. \"How wonderful that you have a big family to spend Christmas with.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not so big.\" I try to downplay it. \"My parents retired last year, and they're spending the holiday in Hawaii. Maybe I should be offended, since Christmas is also my birthday so they're kind of missing two big days, but Christmas in Hawaii has been their lifelong dream, and I guess they've earned it. And my brother, Doug, is on a ski trip and he won't be getting in until, like, Christmas Eve at midnight because he's terrible at planning anything.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGilbert stares at me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So . . . no big deal,\" I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGilbert bursts into tears again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, no,\" I say. I have no idea what to do in this situation. It's not like I haven't been around tears before . . . I have one of those faces that people tend to talk to, so I've consoled my fair share of drunk girls in bar bathrooms. I've learned a lot about the cheating boyfriends of Columbus and ended up with mascara stains on many of my best shirts. But nothing prepared me for a sobbing boss in the midst of a dissolving marriage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI hand him another tissue, and he takes it with a grateful nod.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I wish . . . oh, I wish she'd planned this all a little better. It's not like Charlene to mess up the holidays. We love Christmas. Bundling up and going to Wildlights at the Zoo, driving around and looking at the Christmas lights, decorating our tree together, watching The Holiday . . .\" His face droops. \"She should've left me at Easter. We don't really do anything for Easter.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUnsure of how I'm supposed to respond to this, I nod.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe meets my eye, looking so despondent that I want to cry. \"I wish I had a big family Christmas to go to like you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI give him a closed-lip smile. \"I wish that, too, Gilbert. I really do.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Your family sounds so wonderful,\" he says. \"So close. I'd love to meet them someday.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yeah,\" I say. \"I'd love that, too.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe puts a hand on his heart. \"Laurel. That is so generous of you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI open my mouth, but no words come out because I'm not exactly sure what Gilbert's talking about. I feel like I temporarily blacked out and missed a few lines of our conversation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What's that?\" I ask carefully.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Of course I'd love to come over,\" he says, tears welling in his eyes yet again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOh, no. Oh, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, you don't want to come over,\" I stammer. \"It's crowded. Lots of tiny rooms. Too many people. The kids . . . they're loud.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I love kids,\" Gilbert says, standing up. \"And tiny rooms. I watch those home renovation shows on HGTV, and I think, who needs an open concept? Keep those rooms separate.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThink, Laurel. Think.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But I . . . I don't have a gift for you!\" I say loudly. \"Or matching pajamas. We all wear matching pajamas on Christmas morning.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, don't worry, Laurel,\" Gilbert says. \"I would never think of intruding on Christmas.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI exhale, relieved. I underestimated Gilbert. Of course he wouldn't invite himself to his employee's house for Christmas-I must have misunderstood him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'll only be there tomorrow, for Christmas Eve Eve,\" he says. \"I know all about the traditional dinner you serve on the farm.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Traditional dinner?\" I ask slowly, dread filling my body.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You know,\" he says. \"You wrote about it in this month's column.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Right,\" I say, nodding. What he's saying is true. We always have a big dinner with our immediate family on Christmas Eve Eve, leftover from the days when we'd head to my grandma Pat's house on Christmas Eve and stay the night. My mom liked to have a fancy holiday meal early, with just us, as a quiet moment before the travel and gifts. Even after Grandma Pat passed away, we Grants kept up the Christmas Eve Eve tradition, and it's still our biggest meal of the season. I wrote all about it in the monthly column where I detail my simple, hardworking, sometimes chaotic life on the farm.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302207803621,"sku":"NP9780593638361","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593638361.jpg?v=1767726670","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/faking-christmas-isbn-9780593638361","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}