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464 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 29, 2026





"It is a deconstructed scallop foam with truffle dust," he whispers back.
I squint at the plate. "Where’s the scallop?"
"The scallop is implied," Maxwell says.
"The scallop is implied?" I hiss. "Max, I haven't eaten since 06:00. I can't eat an implication."
“My dog is listless... I suspect a neurological event...She sighed, Dr. Silva! She sighed heavily.”
“Dogs sigh, Ma’am. It’s a respiratory function.”
“Not like this. This was an existential sigh.”
I'm revising Faking the Fiancé down, and re-releasing it as a second edition.That's an author I can respect. I'll be here for the second edition.
Here's the truth, laid bare. The current version clocks in at nearly one hundred and fifty thousand words. For those of you who don't live in word counts the way I unfortunately do, that is, in technical publishing terms, an absolute unit. That is not a romantic comedy. That is a romantic comedy that ate a second romantic comedy and is now wearing it as a coat.
I got carried away. I fell in love with these two idiots and their feelings and their beautiful, poetic, painstakingly crafted longing, and I simply could not stop writing sentences about it. Every scene felt essential. Every metaphor felt load-bearing. I looked up one day, blinked, and realized I had written a doorstop and lovingly called it a rom-com.
Now, for those of you who bought or read that first edition: that one is yours, and it's mine too. It stays on my shelf, spine cracked and cover and all, and it will always be the truest version of their story to me. Nothing about a second edition changes that. You didn't read a rough draft. You read the book, the whole overgrown, lovesick, hundred-and-fifty-thousand-word heart of it, and I will love you specifically forever for it.
So I'm bringing the new edition down to a leaner ninety-five to a hundred thousand words. Still the same story, same heart, same slow-burn ache, same two men refusing to admit the obvious. Just tighter, quicker on its feet, and easier to fall into. The prose I'm proudest of stays. The prose that was mostly me showing off gets a gentle, tearful goodbye.