Page 9 of The Match Faker

‘That’s so narrow-minded! A person’s success shouldn’t be defined by whether or not they have a partner!’

‘I agree. But it is what it is. No one would say that’s how it works publicly, but everyone knows it’s an unwritten rule.’

Every single past winner was coupled up. And every magazine profile of the winner included a prominent romantic photo of them with their partner and focused on their love story.

I went over to my filing cabinet and pulled out the old issues of the magazine, then flicked to the profiles.

‘There.’ I dropped two copies on Trudy’s desk. ‘Look at the question in bold: “Did being a matchmaker help you find true love?” and the same question worded differently in the previous year’s winners’ issue: “Did being in a relationship make you a better matchmaker?”’

The magazine, which was part of Dite Global Media, the same company that ran and funded the awards, valued relationships and marriage. It was called Happily Ever After for a reason.

‘Well, I think it’s bollocks! But you need the money, so just play along and pretend you’re coupled up for an interview. Simple!’

‘I wish it was, but these awards have a quick turnaround. If I go through with the entry, they’d want to interview me soon.’

‘What, like tomorrow?’

‘It says here that the first round of interviews start’—I skimmed the letter for the key dates section—‘next week!’

‘That’s fine! So we have seven days to find you a boyfriend!’

‘If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be single. And I’d be out of a job.’ I sighed.

‘He doesn’t have to be real. Just hire someone.’

My mouth dropped. She couldn’t be serious.

‘Did they put brandy in your coffee? I can’t hire a fake boyfriend for the interview! What if they check my social media and don’t see photos of us together? They’d know I was lying.’ I was never one for splashing loads of photos with my ex online, but I’d had a few. Until I’d deleted every trace of him.

‘So post photos of your fake boyfriend.’

‘And he’d have to come to the ceremony. It’s the beginning of August and the ceremony isn’t until October. Only a professional escort would agree to commit for two months. A real single person would want to keep their options open in case they met someone. Which is another reason why they wouldn’t want their photo all over Instagram.’

‘So hire an escort for the interview, a few dates and the ceremony.’

‘Too risky. Knowing my luck, someone would recognise him. Plus I can’t afford to hire someone. I need to save money, not spend it!’

‘Think of the return you’d get on your investment when you win.’

‘If.’

‘Find someone to do it for free! Let me see if I have any single friends you haven’t met…’ She scrolled through her phone.

I knew Trudy was trying to be helpful, but the last two guys I’d dated since my break-up were people she’d set me up with.

Both were actors she’d just met. And both were disasters. I hated to stereotype, but dating actors definitely wasn’t for me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t meet men. Part of my job involved attending business networking events, and if I met someone I thought could be a good fit for one of my clients, I’d ask if they were single, give them my card and find out if they’d be interested in signing up to my agency.

Somehow approaching them knowing it was for business was less awkward than if I was trying to chat them up to go on a date with me.

‘Sorry.’ Trudy groaned. ‘Can’t find anyone.’

Didn’t surprise me. When I’d started the agency, I’d contacted every single person my friends and family knew.

But even with a list of men on my books, I’d never ask them to get involved in something like this. It’d make me sound desperate and unprofessional. Could you imagine?

Yeah, hi. It’s Mia. I know I’m supposed to be an expert at helping people find love, but I can’t find myself a real boyfriend, so I wondered if you’d mind lying through your teeth and pretending to be my boyfriend for a couple of months so I can win a competition to save my business?

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