Cover

Dedication

For Anthony, who taught me how to dream.

And for anyone who believes in love.

Author’s Note

Dearest Readers,

This book is inspired by a real-life practice in some Asian countries where women hire fake boyfriends (often from classified ads, sometimes from a company) to bring home, commonly at Lunar New Year, to alleviate the pressure from family to find a husband. For this novel, I adapted this practice into a fictional diaspora version, with all details—including the company Rent for Your ’Rents—created to better fit the American setting.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!

Author’s Note about Mandarin Words

In this book, Mandarin words are spelled using the pinyin system, with the lines above the vowels indicating the pitch contour of the voice:

A straight line (ā), the first tone, is high and level, monotone.

Second tone (á) rises in pitch.

Third tone (ǎ) dips, then rises.

Fourth tone (à) starts high and drops, producing a sharp sound.

For some of the Mandarin phrases, I chose to depict the tones as the words are pronounced in conversation in my family’s accent. There may be some discrepancies with other accents and dialects.

The meaning of the Mandarin words can be deduced from context—sometimes a vague idea, sometimes fully defined. The glossary included at the end is optional.

THANKSGIVING

Chloe CHAPTER 1 MATCH.COM ON STEROIDS

November 26

Almost everyone is nervous introducing their boyfriend to their parents for the first time, but I was about to pee my sweat-soaked undies because, well, I hadn’t met him yet either.

Since he already knew my life story (at least the parts that mattered), it was “highly recommended” we not meet before the “assignment” to minimize confusion. Which meant my Uber picked me up from the airport and picked him up a block away from the destination, i.e., my parents’ house. Thanks, George, Toyota Camry, for earning your five-star rating by not asking us what the bejesus was going on.

As we waited on my parents’ stoop and the doorbell echoed through my feng-shuied three-bedroom, three-bathroom childhood home, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was sure he was trained to keep the judgment out of his eyes, especially because I was the hand that was feeding him, but maybe the real problem here was that, between the two of us, he wasn’t the one judging me.

My parents flung the door open and exclaimed, “Jing-Jing!” before wrapping me in hugs.