Genre: Adult Fiction (Contemporary Romance)
Date Published: January 6, 2020
Publisher: Self
He needs a maid.
I need a job.
It’s just temporary…
My life is an endurance test, one that I am in danger of failing.
My apartment is a hellhole and my rent is late. I’m desperate, so I concoct a scheme and temporarily take my friend’s job as a maid.
But I’m not prepared for him.
Gorgeous. Sexy as hell. Millionaire property tycoon, and of course, arrogant jerk.
I met him at a bar and he tried to hit on me. When I ignored him, he thought it was because I couldn’t speak English. Figures he’d be my new boss. Now I have to keep up the charade or risk him finding out I don’t actually work for Heavenly Help, the Romanian cleaning agency he hires.
Can I keep up the charade of being his maid or will cleaning his mansion make me dirtier than ever?
FAKING IT AS THE MAID is a standalone romance, suitable for readers aged 18 or over, due to mature content and sexual themes.
Faking it as the Maid is a bully boss romantic comedy by Emily James. The books in this series stand alone fine. From how they met on, this one was so much fun to read. I loved Avery's inner turmoil every time Ben said something to make her angry, and she couldn't say anything or respond, because she wasn't supposed to understand him. And, the passive aggressive ways she would get back at him? Those parts were great too! Like shutting off the hot water while he's in the shower. On the heavier side of things, they both had these preconceived notions about the other, a bit like a modern day Pride and Prejudice at times. So, needless to say, they had a lot to learn about people and life.. even though they thought they had it all figured out. I loved this one! It really was a quick read and would be perfect to read on a plane or bundled under the blankets on a cold, rainy day, like I did.
“I understand you didn’t want the date in the first place, but I can’t believe you treated poor Chanel like that!” my sister, chastises me the next day.
“I haven’t even had my breakfast yet, can’t this conversation wait until I’ve at least had coffee?”
“No, Ben, this conversation can’t wait. Poor Chanel is traumatized.” “It wasn’t my fault!” I defend. And it really wasn’t. I didn’t want the date, but I was just as embarrassed as Chanel was.
“She said she could see your junk through the line of your trousers. Please, Ben, tell me you did not let her into your house, commando!” “Oh please. It’s not like my junk was hanging out. I had trousers on. The only reason I was commando, beneath my trousers, was because I only had child’s boxer briefs available to me! I’m still bloody commando now!”
“Too much information, Ben! Then you tried to poison her with pure chili chicken. Why would you do that, Ben? I’m sure I told you she’s got a weak constitution what with being dairy, wheat, and gluten intolerant.”
“Okay, so you didn’t tell me any of that. It wasn’t even me that cooked. It was my maid, as instructed by you.” I’m floored that she has the cheek to blame me for all this stuff. When Chanel made her excuses and left at nine—okay so I was relieved—but the stuff that went on before that wasn’t my fault. I’m usually a very good host. So, she was pretty—pretty boring—very into her looks, checking her reflection in every shiny surface. “She was never going to be the girl for me, Soph.”
“So, I suppose you’re going to blame your maid for the full-blast, sweary rap music at dinner? What happened to the Puccini you played at Mum’s birthday, huh? Poor Chanel was horrified.”
“I don’t know how my playlists got mixed up. The rap selection is normally my workout music. But I wouldn’t put it past my maid.” The more I think about it, she seems the likeliest culprit. Today will be her third day as my maid and already it feels like I might not survive much more of her “help.” “Besides, Poor Chanel has a stick so far up her ass, she could barely sit down!”
“That’s not fair, Ben. You know she’s tenth generation royalty. Sitting like a mannequin is part of her upbringing. She said you tried to make her eat pure chili's! She’s still feeling the after-effects now, and Ben, she only just got her bathroom completed! She said you ordered pizza, and then put the television on, and it blinked to life to reveal the Babe Station channel!”
I laugh at this. Chanel’s eyes almost popped out of her head as I tried to explain, I don’t know how that came up on the television. “Maybe it was the technicians that fitted the television and music systems? I can’t help wonder if it was my maid, though.”
“What have you got against your poor maid? Ben, you sound just like Dad.”
“I am not like our father!”
“Really? You said she was hideous yesterday. You can’t dislike the staff just because they’re not conventionally good-looking.”
“Sophie, that’s absurd. Besides, she isn’t hideous. She’s actually quite striking. She just rubs me up the wrong way, that’s all.” Sophie gasps and I know I’ve said too much.
“You like your maid. You like, really, like your maid.” She gasps again and I start looking for the power off button on the device. “Ben, this is fantastic. What does she look like? I bet she’s a beauty. Romanian didn’t you say? This is so exc—”
I cut Sophie off and glance at the clock. I already said too much and Avery should have been here two hours ago. Was she responsible for my catastrophic date? I can’t help but think she was.
Well, if she wants to play dirty, two can play at that game.
“I haven’t even had my breakfast yet, can’t this conversation wait until I’ve at least had coffee?”
“No, Ben, this conversation can’t wait. Poor Chanel is traumatized.” “It wasn’t my fault!” I defend. And it really wasn’t. I didn’t want the date, but I was just as embarrassed as Chanel was.
“She said she could see your junk through the line of your trousers. Please, Ben, tell me you did not let her into your house, commando!” “Oh please. It’s not like my junk was hanging out. I had trousers on. The only reason I was commando, beneath my trousers, was because I only had child’s boxer briefs available to me! I’m still bloody commando now!”
“Too much information, Ben! Then you tried to poison her with pure chili chicken. Why would you do that, Ben? I’m sure I told you she’s got a weak constitution what with being dairy, wheat, and gluten intolerant.”
“Okay, so you didn’t tell me any of that. It wasn’t even me that cooked. It was my maid, as instructed by you.” I’m floored that she has the cheek to blame me for all this stuff. When Chanel made her excuses and left at nine—okay so I was relieved—but the stuff that went on before that wasn’t my fault. I’m usually a very good host. So, she was pretty—pretty boring—very into her looks, checking her reflection in every shiny surface. “She was never going to be the girl for me, Soph.”
“So, I suppose you’re going to blame your maid for the full-blast, sweary rap music at dinner? What happened to the Puccini you played at Mum’s birthday, huh? Poor Chanel was horrified.”
“I don’t know how my playlists got mixed up. The rap selection is normally my workout music. But I wouldn’t put it past my maid.” The more I think about it, she seems the likeliest culprit. Today will be her third day as my maid and already it feels like I might not survive much more of her “help.” “Besides, Poor Chanel has a stick so far up her ass, she could barely sit down!”
“That’s not fair, Ben. You know she’s tenth generation royalty. Sitting like a mannequin is part of her upbringing. She said you tried to make her eat pure chili's! She’s still feeling the after-effects now, and Ben, she only just got her bathroom completed! She said you ordered pizza, and then put the television on, and it blinked to life to reveal the Babe Station channel!”
I laugh at this. Chanel’s eyes almost popped out of her head as I tried to explain, I don’t know how that came up on the television. “Maybe it was the technicians that fitted the television and music systems? I can’t help wonder if it was my maid, though.”
“What have you got against your poor maid? Ben, you sound just like Dad.”
“I am not like our father!”
“Really? You said she was hideous yesterday. You can’t dislike the staff just because they’re not conventionally good-looking.”
“Sophie, that’s absurd. Besides, she isn’t hideous. She’s actually quite striking. She just rubs me up the wrong way, that’s all.” Sophie gasps and I know I’ve said too much.
“You like your maid. You like, really, like your maid.” She gasps again and I start looking for the power off button on the device. “Ben, this is fantastic. What does she look like? I bet she’s a beauty. Romanian didn’t you say? This is so exc—”
I cut Sophie off and glance at the clock. I already said too much and Avery should have been here two hours ago. Was she responsible for my catastrophic date? I can’t help but think she was.
Well, if she wants to play dirty, two can play at that game.
Have you read other books in this series?
Check out my reviews of other books by this author.
Emily James is a British author from the south coast of England. She enjoys exploring new destinations, adores animals, particularly dogs, and advocates kindness to all animals and humans.
Before turning her hand to writing, Emily worked as a social worker. This enabled her to gain insight into both the human psych and also the injustices facing everyday people.
Emily enjoys complex romance novels since she believes nothing good ever comes easily. She's also fond of the saying that patience is a virtue. Having said this, Emily is not what you might call patient or virtuous! Stubborn and tenacious is perhaps more fitting.
Mistakes of My Past is Emily's debut novel. Her blood, sweat and tears went into this story and she sincerely hopes that you lovely readers out there enjoy reading it!
Emily loves chewing the fat with readers.
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