Yeah i hate ate your cup.., p.1
Yeah, I Hate-Ate Your Cupcake!: A Romantic Comedy, page 1
Yeah, I Hate-Ate Your Cupcake!
A Romantic Comedy
Alina Jacobs
Contents
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Synopsis
1. Karlie
2. Liam
3. Karlie
4. Liam
5. Karlie
6. Liam
7. Karlie
8. Liam
9. Karlie
10. Liam
11. Karlie
12. Liam
13. Karlie
14. Liam
15. Karlie
16. Liam
17. Karlie
18. Liam
19. Karlie
20. Liam
21. Karlie
22. Liam
23. Katie
24. Liam
25. Karlie
26. Liam
27. Karlie
28. Karlie
29. Karlie
30. Liam
31. Karlie
32. Liam
33. Karlie
34. Liam
35. Karlie
36. Liam
37. Karlie
38. Liam
39. Karlie
40. Liam
41. Karlie
42. Liam
43. Karlie
44. Liam
45. Karlie
46. Liam
47. Karlie
48. Karlie
49. Liam
50. Karlie
51. Liam
52. Karlie
53. Liam
54. Karlie
55. Liam
56. Karlie
57. Liam
58. Karlie
59. Liam
60. Karlie
61. Liam
62. Karlie
63. Liam
64. Karlie
65. Liam
66. Karlie
67. Liam
68. Karlie
69. Liam
70. Karlie
71. Liam
72. Karlie
73. Liam
74. Karlie
75. Liam
76. Karlie
77. Liam
78. Karlie
79. Liam
80. Karlie
Sneak Peak
Synopsis
1. Karlie
2. Liam
Read HATE CAKE!
Family Tree
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2022 by Adair Lakes, LLC.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Created with Vellum
Other books by Alina Jacobs
Check out other books about characters mentioned in this one on my website:
http://alinajacobs.com/books.html
To boxed cake mix…I mean, we’ve all been there.
Synopsis
In my defense, my twin sister is engaged to the love of my life.
Ok, so he’s my ex of two weeks, but I have totally been in love with him since we were kids!
Guess he wanted the pretty twin. *shrug emoji* What else is new in my life?
They decided to break the news to me in a public place.
Probably because they thought it would keep me from losing it.
Ha! I am the queen of humiliating experiences.
Yelling, “Hey, bitch!” to a girl I thought was my bestie but was just a random stranger? Yup.
Spilling a smoothie all down my shirt in front of a hot guy? Check.
Awkward jokes at a job interview? Have you even met me?
Instead of handling the bad news maturely, I lied that I was totally A-OK with being the maid of honor at those lying cheaters’ upcoming nuptials because I already had a boyfriend, thank you very much.
Then I promptly grabbed an unsuspecting handsome billionaire and begged shamelessly for him to pretend to be my boyfriend. He, of course, reacted with horror because my life is so not a romantic comedy.
Most humiliating moment ever.
Actually, no, scratch that: the worst moment was later that evening, when I got arrested breaking into said billionaire’s office.
And since the universe really had it in for me (could also be terrible decision-making skills on my part, but who’s counting), things really took a turn for the worse when the handsome billionaire told me he was willing to make a deal...
And be my fake boyfriend.
Liam Svensson had a sexy smile, a deep sexy voice, and an even sexier body underneath that custom suit.
Saying he was out of my league would be a huge understatement.
What did he want?
My cupcake.
...Like, literally, my cupcake. One a day. A variety. Not... you know... that. Guys like Liam didn’t like awkward girls like me.
Except why was he looking at me like he could cover me in frosting and eat me up?
And why did I want to risk it all and say yes?
This is a stand-alone, full-length laugh-out-loud romantic comedy, complete with the Queen of Awkward, who will make you feel better about that cringey joke you told at the last company happy hour, a hot guy with a wicked tongue (for jokes and—ahem), and a happily ever after better than a cupcake with extra sprinkles!
1
Karlie
“And so now we’re engaged!”
My twin sister gave me a big cheerleader smile.
My ex-boyfriend took her hand. The large diamond ring sparkled on her ring finger, and Roberta looked up at him adoringly.
It should have been me.
Two weeks ago Marcus and I had still been together.
Two weeks ago I had been dreaming about that heirloom diamond ring on my hand.
Two weeks ago I had been deliriously happy.
“Aren’t you thrilled for us?” my sister gushed. She kissed Marcus’s cheek.
Not a bit.
But I kept it together. The fancy cocktail I had ordered hadn’t arrived yet, and I really needed alcohol at a time like this.
“For the wedding I was thinking we should do a Great Gatsby theme,” Roberta chattered on, “so when you organize my bachelorette party—”
“Excuse me?” I said sharply.
Marcus jumped, and my sister huffed.
The server set the too-expensive cocktail in front of me. I took a generous sip of the honey-pale drink, my anger and heartbreak spiraling.
Roberta had invited me to the restaurant for what she had claimed would be a twin sister lunch. When I saw Marcus, she acted like it was such a coincidence! She probably thought if we were in a public place when she told me that she was engaged to the man I had been in love with since I was five years old, that it would keep me from making a scene.
As if.
I was the queen of awkward situations.
I would always manage to humiliate myself in a public setting.
In a fancy restaurant I couldn’t afford while my future was literally crumbling around me and I had to find out that the man of my dreams had decided to choose the pretty twin instead of plain, too-tall me? You honestly think I wasn’t going to completely lose it?
Bring. It. On.
“You think I’m going to be your maid of honor,” I said, my voice sounding screechy, “After you stole my boyfriend!”
“You’re the maid of honor for Tosha and Bently,” my sister whined.
My twin was the exact opposite of me. She was a petite dancer with big eyes and glossy hair. Men fell all over themselves to cater to her.
I was immune.
“I’m not helping you,” I declared and tightened the scrunchie on my own frizzy ponytail.
“You’re just jealous,” she said hotly. “You’re jealous because I found the love of my life and you’re the only person in our friend group who is still single. You’re almost thirty, and soon you’ll be too old to have a big wedding.” Her smile turned sly. “You’ll have to burn your dream wedding scrapbook. All those collages. Not to mention the shrine.”
Fuck. I did not need Marcus to hear about the shrine.
“Okay,” I said, surrendering. “I’ll be your maid of honor.”
My twin was smug.
God, she annoyed me. When we were little, she was my best friend in the entire world. But over the years, we had progressively grown apart. She was the pretty twin. I should have been the smart twin, but I couldn’t even do that right, and my French literature master’s degree languished under my bed while I worked for peanuts at a small commercial bakery.
“Maybe you’ll catch the bouquet,” Roberta said and took a sip of her skinny-girl martini.
I vowed then and there to have a boyfriend by her wedding.
I’ll show them. It’s what, eighteen months away? That’s possible. Right?
“I need you on your wedding planning game,” Roberta insisted. “The wedding is in three months, so I need you to quit your job at that sad little cupcake factory and plan my wedding.” She clapped her hands at me.
“Three months?”
“Marcus and I are in love!” My twin leaned over and gave my boyfriend a steamy kiss.
&nbs
“You wouldn’t understand.” She tossed her perfect hair. “You’ve never been in love. You just waste your energy making fan art about Chris Evans.”
Marcus snorted a laugh. “Did you really, Karlie? I don’t think he’s going to be at the wedding, and even if he is, there’s no way a guy like him would get with a girl like you.”
My face burned.
“I have a boyfriend,” I blurted out.
Lies. All lies.
“You were cheating on me?” Marcus demanded.
Something something pots and kettles.
“No, you don’t,” Roberta scoffed. “Mom said you’ve been wallowing at home.”
“She’s not there all the time,” I said hotly, fully prepared to go down with the fake-boyfriend Titanic.
“I don’t believe you!”
“Believe it,” I said, trying to calculate if I had enough money in my savings account to hire a desperate actor to pretend to be my boyfriend and come to family dinners.
“He’s a hot guy,” I insisted. “Tall. Like really tall.”
Aaaand you’re just making it harder for yourself. Good call.
“Show me his picture,” my twin snapped.
Fuck.
I fumbled out my phone.
My sister took another sip of her martini.
Marcus put his arm around her.
“I don’t have a picture,” I said, stalling. “We were so in love that I just didn’t take photos.”
Roberta rolled her eyes.
“Then call him,” she goaded.
Double fuck.
Was there a man in my phone I could call who would pretend to be my fake boyfriend?
There’s the delivery guy’s number, but actually I think DoorDash uses fake numbers now so that you can’t stalk the delivery dude like I am trying to justify doing.
Could I just call, like, a random lawyer’s office?
My heart was pounding.
“Do you not have his number?” Roberta drawled.
Fuck my life.
Why do you do this to yourself, Karlie?
Roberta was going to call all the girls in our little upper-class friend circle and laugh about her pathetic twin sister who still lived at home, and then they were all going to tell their friends, and I was going to be the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. Again.
I felt like crying.
Buck up and go down with the ship.
“My phone is about to die,” I said weakly.
“Uh-huh.”
Marcus was clearly trying not to laugh.
Please, universe, I will do anything if you save me. I will eat salad for the next week, and no, I won’t cheat by cutting up pizza and putting it in a bowl with lettuce like I did that one time.
The door to the restaurant opened, and a man walked in. A tall man—handsome, dark suit, no tie, dirty-blond hair a little too long for one of the finance bros that usually roamed the New York streets like pasty rats.
He slipped off his sunglasses.
Go big or go home.
“There he is!” I blurted, pointing.
Roberta turned to follow my index finger, and her eyes widened.
“No.”
“Yes!”
I stood up, smoothed down my skirt, and trotted up to the man.
“Hi, babe!” I said through clenched teeth, the panic starting to hit me.
What the hell was I doing?
My fake boyfriend pulled his sunglasses down to peer at me over the rims.
“Do I know you?” he asked in a deep voice that made me shiver.
“No,” I said in a rushed whisper, “but my twin sister is marrying my ex, and I kind of sort of want to impress her, so if you could pretty please go along with my harebrained idea and pretend to be the love of my life, I’ll—” I blanked.
The man took off his sunglasses and hooked them over the open collar of his crisp white dress shirt.
“I’ll make you a cupcake?” I offered weakly.
And this was the adorable meet cute before the two of us fell madly in love and had all sorts of fun romantic shenanigans in Manhattan until he proposed to me in front of the Statue of Liberty.
Not!
“Lady, you are fucking insane,” he said loudly.
“Shhh!” I begged.
My sister’s laughter rang out from across the restaurant.
“Could you please help out a stranger?” I stepped toward him.
He backed away from me, shaking his head.
“Absolutely not. You need to get away from me.”
I’m literally going to die of humiliation.
My face was bright red. I blinked. My eyes felt puffy, like I was on the verge of tears.
I grabbed the guy’s sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m just desperate.”
“Oh my god!” a woman shrieked. “Liam, are you cheating on me?”
Shiiiitttt.
I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor as a woman with model-perfect posture wearing impossibly tall heels and a chic dress accosted me.
“Why are you trying to steal my future husband? Liam, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t—” I began hastily.
The woman started sobbing. “We were going to get married.”
Oh my god, you ruined this poor woman’s life.
“She’s just a weirdo,” Liam consoled his fiancée.
Diners were gaping at us.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I’m just going to leave.”
I walked out the door. The sounds of the Manhattan streets barely covered the rushing noise in my ears. I took two steps to the subway then froze.
Fuck. My purse was inside.
Did I need my purse?
It has your ID, phone, and keys. And the last of your cash.
I let out a breath then grabbed the copper handle and pulled the door back open.
Liam, his fiancée, and the rest of the restaurant watched as I hurried into the restaurant, grabbed my purse, and scuttled back outside.
I blinked rapidly, trying not to cry in the middle of the sidewalk as people streamed around me, oblivious that I had just experienced the worst moment of my entire life.
2
Liam
Sparklepanda34, who I had met on a dating app four hours prior, sobbed even louder after the frizzy-haired girl had run off.
I let out a sigh. My date’s theatrical crying was earning us annoyed looks from the restaurant patrons.
“Look,” I told the aspiring model. “Clearly this wasn’t meant to be.”
“I had a tarot reading,” she wailed. “You were going to be my husband.”
“You know,” I said, ushering her out of the restaurant, “you have to be careful with who you hire to do those tarot readings. Lots of scammers out there.”
Sparklepanda34 sniffled. “Can we try again?”
“I have to get back to the office,” I said, hailing her a cab. I handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. “Take her wherever she wants to go.”
“I want to go back to your penthouse!” she yelled out of the open window as the cab pulled away.
