Christina Lauren go all in on fake dating in their 30th romance novel together
Are you ready to (fake) fall in love?
For their 30th novel together as a writing duo, Christina Lauren are returning to a tried-and-true romance trope — fake dating. In The Paradise Problem, two exes who were once in a marriage of convenience must reunite to help solve the hero's inheritance woes.
EW can exclusively reveal the cover and share an excerpt from the duo's latest novel, a major milestone in their now decade-plus of collaboration that began in the world of fanfiction and has gone on to include 30 novels, including several in various stages of development for film and television adaptation.
Brystan Studios Writing duo Christina Lauren
The Paradise Problem follows Anna Green, a messy, starving artist who married grocery store heir Liam "West" Weston in college to secure access to subsidized family housing at UCLA. After graduation, Anna believed they'd signed divorce papers and went their separate ways, no harm done. But three years later, Anna is living paycheck to paycheck and West, now a Stanford professor, discovers there's an annoying catch to securing his one-hundred-million-dollar inheritance — he can't access even one penny of it until he's been happily married for five years.
As West approaches his goal, his family puts the pressure on to meet his mysterious spouse, forcing him to call up Anna and ask her to play the part of his wife once more (because they never did that divorce). But as he exposes her to his toxic wealthy family, he begins to wonder if her feisty, foul-mouthed ways aren't what he's been looking for all along. Just because love began as a lie, doesn't mean it has to stay that way.
Read the excerpt and check out the cover below.
Gallery Books
Excerpt from The Paradise Problem
"Should I put pants on for this? This feels like a pants-on conversation."
"That's entirely up to you."
I stand, limping in one slipper to the bedroom. When I emerge in a pair of shorts and with my hair brushed into a more secure ponytail, West is still standing exactly where I'd left him.
"You can sit, you know." I gesture to the splendor of my living room: the half-empty Big Gulp cup on the coffee table that Jack left a few days ago; the dog toy on the floor that Lindy bought even though we don't have a dog; the laundry basket overflowing with clean clothes neither of us feels like folding. "I know the place feels like an interior design showroom, but we aren't fussy."
He sits, stiffly, and then adjusts his posture on the sofa, turning slightly to face me.
"Okay so here's the situation," he says. "You remember, I'm sure, the circumstances of how we came to be roommates?"
Indeed, I do. At the end of my sophomore year, my two roommates graduated, and I couldn't afford the rent for our one-bedroom apartment near campus alone. In fact, I couldn't afford any rent on any apartment within biking or walking distance. Jake already had a roommate; Vivi lived at home with her parents and commuted a half hour to school every day from Playa del Rey. Even when the Amirs offered me a room, I didn't have a car and LA public transportation is so deeply shitty that if Vivi and I didn't carpool, it would take me nearly two hours to get to school from their house every day. Given my penchant for oversleeping, I knew it wouldn't work.
But Jake's older brother was working on his doctorate, apparently with such deep commitment that he wanted to live on campus. The only last-minute option for a graduate student was family housing, which required him to be married. A legal lockdown on my vagina was well worth the pennies in rent I'd have to pay, and I happily agreed. I met West for the first time at the courthouse, where we had a brief ceremony. I signed some papers when he moved in and some papers when he moved out, and that was that. Easy.
For two blissful years, I had cheap housing and an apartment all to myself most daylight hours. West was one of those super fit guys who got up to run at five, spent the entire day in class or studying or at an internship, hit the gym at night, and then came home to shower and sleep. He'd been one of the best roommates I'd ever had.
"I do remember," I say. But then something occurs to me and panic washes me out. "Wait. Are we in trouble for fraud? Are they coming after us?"
"No, this situation is entirely of my own making, unfortunately."
"And you think I can help you? I can barely feed myself a balanced diet."
West eyes my soggy bowl of Fruit Loops. "I think only you can help me, in fact." He takes a deep breath. "Initially, our marriage was just so I could cheaply live on-campus and finish my degree. But once we were officially married, I realized what I'd inadvertently done."
"Granted, I'm super high—"
"You've mentioned."
"—but is it weird that I'm not sure I've ever heard someone use the word 'inadvertently'?" West takes another deep, patient breath. "Sorry," I mumble. "What had you inadvertently done?"
"My grandfather left money to each of his four grandchildren—my three siblings, and me. A condition of the trust was that our inheritance would become accessible to each of us only when we got married."
"What in the smelling salts waistcoat gentleman s--- is that?"
"Agreed."
I attempt a British accent: "The lord must find a wife!"
"Well, as far as the family attorneys knew, I did."
He waits for me to catch up, and I do, finally. "You mean, marrying me triggered your inheritance?"
"Correct." He looks down to his lap. "Only Jake knew the real situation. The rest of my family wasn't thrilled that I didn't let them throw me a big wedding, but I guess they weren't all that surprised. I've always been private."
"So you married me for housing but ended up getting a ton of cash, too?"
He nods. "With the inheritance, I could pay my tuition and living expenses, and avoid having to ever work with my father."
"Okay," I say, dragging the word out. "I'm happy for you, but what did I sign? I thought it was a standard prenup."
He nods at this. "It was a document saying you are not entitled to any of my income or property."
I frown. That's a bummer. Though . . . "I guess I already got this couch and the TV."
"You also get ten thousand dollars once our divorce is final."
Sitting up, I feel my smile stretch across my face. "Seriously?"
West gives a tiny flicker of a smile. "Seriously."
"Ten thousand dollars." That amount of money is life-changing. I could pay down over half of Dad's hospital bills. And then his words penetrate my fog. "Wait. What does that mean, 'once our divorce is final? Are you saying we aren't divorced?"
"The contract you signed before I moved out states that we would remain married until September first of this year."
I count out the remaining months on my fingers. May, June, July, August. Four more to go. "Okay, that's not too bad."
"After September," he says, "I can tell my family that things didn't work out for us."
We stare at each other.
"West? Hello, I still have no idea what the f--- is going on. How am I supposed to help you right now?"
He swallows audibly. "It's complicated and boring, but the point is this: No one else can find out that you and I are married in name only."
"So, do you need me to, like, write an email? Take a picture where we're kissing?" I wince, at a loss. "Forge some love letters?"
He looks me over again, top to bottom, and the defeat in his eyes makes me realize the true extent of my unshowered, feral chaos. "Actually, Anna," he says, "I need you to come with me to my sister's wedding in Indonesia and convincingly play the part of my very loving wife."
Related content:
