Author's Note: Hey, so I guess I needed a little vacation from my other stories. I have the writing bug, but I'm not sure where to take them. They are definitely not finished, but they will be on a short break at least until the holidays. Think of it as your holiday gifts! I hope you guys like this one as much as the others.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the mortal Instruments characters, but I do own my own words. The plot will be loosely based on the plot of the movie "The Wedding Date"

Summary: Clary is a hard-working, independent woman that doesn't need a man. She's content with working long hours, holidays, even on days of family events. She gets away with it until one event seems to be utterly inescapable, her older brother's wedding. As the forced maid of honor, her attendance is required in her sleepy farm hometown in Tennessee with her big, crazy family. Not sure if she can survive the constant poking into her nonexistent love life, she enlists a man she believes to be a 'date' to fool her family into thinking she is on the road to marriage herself. The only problem, the man is charming as they come, but is this just another bill to emotionally damaged Clary.

Narrator:

Her fingers were raw and covered in the bright pastels that were strewn over her desk. Her hair was askew and there were smudges of color on her cheeks where pastel had gone rouge from the nearly completed project.

She smiled down at the poster sized paper in satisfaction and held it up in front of her. The yellow light from her studio as well as the breaking dawn light illuminated her latest piece of art that would hopefully be printed on hard and soft covers of millions of books.

Twenty-four year old Clary Fray was an ex-law student, cover artist for some of the biggest projects around the world. From a young age, she had showed insurmountable levels of intelligence and had skipped majority of middle school and freshman year. She was always the youngest as well as smartest pupil in her classes, but she never minded. She was fine if she had her art and her music, and had been lucky enough to make a few friends she had been able to keep even into adulthood.

Her father had been the best lawyer in their town, maybe even the state, and with a daughter as smart as his own, it was only expected for her to do great things as well. In her town, that meant marry a good guy and have good kids. Not get a job or go to college. Lie ended for women the day they graduated high school. She had given it a hard try, a three year long one to be exact. She dated sweet boys, smart boys, even the rebels. Even those only got as rebellious as taking their family tractor out without permission.

After years of misery, young Clarissa applied to Yale for art in secret. Within the month, she had gotten her acceptance letter. Her parents were heartbroken that she wanted to leave, but they were more worried of losing their relationship with their only daughter, so they let her go and always invited her back for long weekends and holidays, not that she ever went. She was too busy to go back. After graduation, she had moved to New York to do what she did best, make art. And she was successful. Soon, her family and the rest of the country knew her as Clary Fray the newest up and coming artist, who designed book covers.

Looking at the clock now, she saw it was already four-thirty in the morning and she had stayed up all night to meet her deadline. She sighed in exhaustion before collapsing onto her mess of art tools, after carefully setting down her work.

Clary

I was startled awake by the insistent ringing of my cellphone. Seeing the caller I.D, I immediately answer.

"Hello little sister," the velvety voice coos and I can see the dancing green eyes and shining white hair as my older brother's voice reaches my ears.

"Hello big brother," I reply yawing heartily.

"Another late night?" he asks, chuckling.

"Of course," I reply, holding the phone with my shoulder as I carefully roll the design and slide it into the transport cylinder. The publisher should be by later to pick it up.

"Making that money!" he sings, laughing and I smile," anyways, I was just heading into work and I have a bit of news,"

"Ohhh! Did you get a puppy? I want one, but I don't have the time, I can just come by and see yours!" I say excitedly, thinking of a fuzz ball rolling around Jon's living room.

"ha, no. I did get something though," he says, slightly nervous.

"What?"

"A fiancé," he murmurs. I freeze. When did Jon even get a girlfriend?

"Excuse me," I say accusingly, glaring at the wall.

"Oh come one, don't give me the phone death eyes," he sighs, "if you cared to come home every once in a while, you would have met her already. Mom loves her, Grandma loves her, even aunt Maryse loves her!" he exclaims. I feel anger curl my gut at the fact that everyone seems to find this girl to be wonderful, at least enough to marry their golden boy, and yet I've never heard of her.

"Oh, so you couldn't have mentioned her over our nightly phone calls," I say bitterly. Then his first words finally sink into my skin like stinging ice, freezing my veins, "and it's not my fault that I have to claw tooth and nail for Dad's approval when you, the college dropout who runs a repair shop lives in his good graces," I say, feeling the self-loathing appear as soon as the words come out.

"At least I stayed. The family hasn't seen you in over two years, rarely hear from you," he replies, going on defense.

"I had to do something! I'm sorry I didn't want to end my life before it even began! I'm sorry I didn't want to settle for a boy that I knew since birth and get pregnant before my 21st birthday!" I say, voice rising with each word. If anyone had been proud and supportive, it would have been Jon. He just wanted his little sister to be happy, and he was secretly happy she was not attracted to the bone heads of their high school.

"You know what, you better be here within the month. The wedding is going to be small, but it's happening. If you aren't here, happy in a dress, you can just lose my number. I don't want us small town folk holding you back," he says and I know I screwed up.

"Jon," I say softly, "I'll be there in two weeks, I promise,"

"I love you Clary, please don't break this promise," before I can answer, he hangs up. I put down my phone and whisper, "I won't.

Jace

I was dressed in my finest suit, tie straight and hair slicked back. I kept a smile on my face, despite the ghastly woman on my arm, just thinking of how my rate was a five hundred an hour.

She introduced me to her work friends, relishing in the way the other woman's eyes lingered on my face and my body, before looking at her with envious glances, barely concealed behind their painted smiles.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I got looped into this business, but here I am, with a beautiful, yet horrid woman who will pay me to pretend to be her boyfriend whom she will dramatically break up with at the end of the night, gaining favor with the other woman.

In technical terms, I'm a date. That's it. I don't sleep with these women or end up with them at the end. I take them out for whatever reason they require, act my charming self then get payed.

There's a bunch of us. The sweet ones you bring to your hometown for Grandma Ruth's birthday, the heartthrob you bring to your frenemies wedding, the rebel you bring around once in a while to make your crush jealous, and then there's me. The others are like a breed of date, but I'm my own kind. I'm the charmer, the big guns, the one that can be everything in one golden wrapped package.

One day I had been walking around campus, a fresh-faced literature major, dead set on writing a novel and getting published, childish dreams. A sparkly man with green eyes had approached me and his exact words were.

"You're beautiful, I'm sure women would pay for a date," I had bene thoroughly creeped out. I had never been called beautiful in my life. Hot, Sexy, even angelic, but never beautiful and I was intrigued.

He had continued by saying that he was running a business that did just that, sold dates to woman in need. At the time he had only ten or so guys to sell off. Fascinated by the mysterious guy, I met with him for coffee. Magnus, as I later found his name to be, explained the business to me and enlisted me. Down on cash, and in desperate need to pay for next semester's courses of creative writing, I had agreed.

Within a few months, Magnus as well as the other guys had become my best friends and I had become the most sought after date. It was quite the arrogance shot to my originally mellow and conservative personality. Magnus had trained me in the arts of charm and chivalry as well as silent confidence. It only helped.

Now here I am a fresh graduate with a Lit major and nearly complete novel. Things were going splendid, not to mention I was being paid to be myself, and at least the version the women want. It never bothered me that I couldn't really date any one because of this. I was always so focused on my degree, but now, there was that inkling of want.

When it comes, I pushed it down and lock it back inside, where the rest of old Jace is and where he will probably stay until I stop being a date.

At the end of the night, I dropped the girl at home and in exchange she handed me a fat envelope with a kiss on the cheek. I walked back to my car, scrubbing the sticky red lips from my cheek when my phone buzzes.

Magnus- New Job, Hot Red Head

That's all it took to peek my interest. I had never been a date for a red head, or anyone that Magnus deemed as more than 'okay' or 'not horrible' which was hard considering he was a flaming gay, which the team loved him for.

I typed back; I'll meet you at the office.

This date just may be the fun I need.

Clary

Realizing I would have to go home wasn't too bad. I loved my family and my hometown. What had me chewing my nails to the root was the idea of going in there alone. Not only going to the wedding alone, but enduring all the festivities alone. All my cousins were already married, probably pregnant or long past. All my old friends were in the same boat.

That's what also interests me about this girl. Where was she from if she isn't married off yet, or younger than 18. But my brother would never.

Swallowing hard, I scroll through my contacts, looking for a guy that would be good for this very big favor. All I find are cousins of mine, whom will already be there, and guys from work which I find 100% off limits. Then I resort to the one number that was collecting dust in my contact list,

I don't know why I had saved it, but I had. The whole business was just too intriguing. I remember the flamboyant man handing a dark purple card with silver writing stating "the Magnificent Date Service". I had been at a launch party when he had come up to me and handed me the card, I remember his silken voice saying offensive, yet true words.

"Let's be honest. You don't date. I know your type. Work, work, work, no play. Well miss Clary Fray, if you ever need a companion for one of your events, please, call," he had handed me the card saying it was his dating service for the dating challenged.

Now, desperate, I hit call. The line rings and rings and then is answered. The same voice from that night answers.

"Hello, are you calling for an appointment to pick you date?" he asks.

"Um, yes. I'm Clary Fray, we met-"I begin when he replies.

"Oh dear! I've been waiting for this day! I have the perfect date! I'll call him and I'll give him your number," then he hung up. I stare at the phone in shock. Then I slump on my couch. I guess I'm getting a date.