The shame I feel around my failed relationships cyclones in my stomach. I pound my head against the back of my chair.

No more fiancées, whether real or fake.

Think! What would be better?

I pace my office, then it hits me—I need a fake wife. I will gladly pay a woman a fortune if it means my family leaves me alone while I'm home.

Georgia's chipper voice tears me out of my thoughts. She's practically singing good morning to everybody she comes across.

I stare at her through my tinted window, watching her carrying six boxes.

Six.

Does the woman do anything besides bake?

Is she on drugs and that's what makes her so happy?

If so, they should market it to the rest of the world so they can walk around in a blissful haze of happiness.

No. That would be annoying.

I stare at her round ass, wondering why she can't be ugly. At least then I wouldn't have to jack off to her every time I take a shower.

She turns the corner, and the urge to follow her fills me. Instead, I head to the conference room, needing to get out of my office. I pace the room, staring at the beautiful morning glow of the Dallas skyline, trying to figure out my problem. If I don't, my mother will have every single woman in town over at the house at all hours of the day and night.

I need the perfect woman. Someone sweet and kind but not a doormat. One who my family and the entire town will fall in love with; who fools them into thinking she genuinely loves me.

Not like the others.

My chest tightens, thinking of all the other Christmases I brought a fiancée home thinking she was the one, only to learn her true intentions.

Focus, I reprimand myself. I shake it off, racking my mind over who I can turn into my fake wife.

The woman has to be someone I'd be attracted to, so gorgeous is a must. She needs to get along easily with people and eagerly dive into all the annoying activities my family will force upon her.

Where am I going to find someone with these qualities in less than four days?

Panic sets in as I mentally flip through the Rolodex of women I know. No one has the traits I need or is anyone I can put up with for more than a day.

I curse myself again for my past relationships. If I hadn't been naive enough to think any woman would want me for me and not for my money, I wouldn't be in this predicament.