Anchored Love (Propositions and Proposals #2): A Fake Boyfriend Romance Read online

  Anchored Love

  Propositions & Proposals #2

  Ryan Michele

  Anchored Love (Proposition and Proposals #1)

  Ryan Michele

  ©Ryan Michele, Wicked Words Publishing, LLC 2020

  All Rights Reserved. This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission from Ryan Michele.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1st edition published: May 20,2020

  Contents

  Blurb

  Keep Up to Date

  Prologue

  1. Everly

  2. Everly

  3. Everly

  4. Everly

  5. Everly

  6. Mason

  7. Everly

  8. Mason

  9. Everly

  10. Everly

  11. Mason

  12. Everly

  13. Mason

  14. Everly

  15. Mason

  16. Everly

  17. Everly

  18. Mason

  19. Everly

  Epilogue

  More books by Ryan

  About the Author

  Thanks!

  Blurb

  From Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author Ryan Michele comes a brand new spicy contemporary romance series full of propositions and proposals.

  Stay-cation, that’s my kind of vacation. Only this year, my brother isn't having it.

  He has this great idea that we should all take a family vacation together. Not any vacation, no, we were embarking on a week long cruise. An all expenses paid trip for us all.

  A vacation that has one stipulation: bring a plus one.

  What do I do when I find myself minus a significant other?

  I lie, of course.

  One lie led to another, and suddenly the only answer is him.

  Mason, the man, the myth, the legend. Okay maybe not to everyone but he certainly has taken center stage in more than one of my fantasies.

  This whole thing is absurd, he works in my building. This could end so very badly for us both with the no fraternization policy. Yet, here we are sailing away.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol, or too much sun, either way I find myself getting lost in my simple proposition.

  The problem is we will soon return to shore.

  When the anchor drops where will things settle for us both?

  Keep Up to Date

  Want to keep up to date will all my books?

  Join my Newsletter: HERE

  Join my Reader Group: Ryan’s Sultry Sinners

  Prologue

  Everly

  “Alright, girls.” Our mother picked up the remote control and clicked the movie off. The screen dimmed and went black. I pushed up off the soft, fuzzy black rug in the center of the family room, going to my knees and holding my hand out for my little sister, Jess. Sunday nights we kept to the same routine. A big dinner that we all sat together at the table for, and after we ate ice cream sundaes with all the sprinkles I could cover my treat in while watching one of the Disney classic cartoon movies. “Time to get those teeth brushed.”

  “Can we watch one more?” Jess pouted, and Mom smiled, laying the romance novel she’d been reading on the end table. The cover had a man donning a kilt on the front, his wild long hair appearing to be blowing in the breeze. Sometimes I would sneak and read them even though Mom swore I was too young for them.

  “Not tonight. It’s already past your bedtime.” She stood, running a hand through her bob cut honey blonde hair, matching my own in color. The front of her robe hung open, and she secured the satin sash around her waist, glancing toward the stairs with a look that said ‘move your butts’.

  Jess folded her arms across her chest. “But you let Drake stay up this late.” She ended the complaint with a huff, pouting her soft pink lips with a hand resting on her hip. Her golden blonde pigtails bounced as she shook her head.

  I knew better than to argue. Since the beginning of time our mother never allowed us to stay up late. Not for special occasions like holidays or birthdays. Not for Santa Claus. Not for the meteor shower that only come once in a lifetime. Not ever. We had a routine, and she wasn’t about to break it, always saying that children needed a structured routine.

  “By royal decree of the King…” She nodded toward our father who happened to be snoring in the recliner with his glasses slipping down the slope of his nose. Hands folded on his stomach, he appeared dead to the world, but the worry lines etched on his forehead were a reminder of how stressed his job kept him. He had fallen asleep about ten minutes into the movie, and no one dared wake him from his slumber. “It’s time for pretty princesses to get their beauty rest.”

  “Will you tell us a story?” I pushed, knowing she couldn’t deny the request. It was one thing she loved doing. I always thought it was because of the books she read, wanting us to get a small taste of her love for fiction. Really, the why didn’t matter. The fact that she did was all that stood out.

  “Brush your teeth, and we’ll see.”

  Jess and I trudged up the stairs to our bathroom, our matching blue silk nightgowns dragging on the floor. In the bathroom, my toes curled against the cool tile floor as we began our routine.

  I grabbed our toothbrushes and the toothpaste while Jess climbed onto her step stool, unable to reach the sink on her own.

  Sharing a sink with her sucked. My little sister always globbed toothpaste everywhere, missing her mouth and getting the gooey mess all over the sink. Unfortunately, I was the lucky one always stuck cleaning her mess, because if it wasn’t cleaned we both got in trouble. That was the tight ship our mother ran. And if something got broken or went missing, and no one confessed, all three of her children were punished for the deed. Sometimes I wished I were an only child, but I loved my brother and sister even if they drove me crazy. Especially my fart head brother. He always hogged the remote control on Saturday mornings wanting to watch boy cartoons that both Jess and I hated more than anything. He always played the age card and threatened to fart on us if we cried to Mom about anything. Sometimes he could be the worst.

  I squeezed the sparkling blue gel on the bristles and handed the hot pink toothbrush to Jess. “Try to keep it in your mouth,” I grumbled, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Any second blue goo would be all over the sink. I closed my eyes and shoved my toothbrush in my mouth.

  “Mom, Ev is being bossy!”

  My eyes snapped open. “Tattletale.” I bumped against her, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

  “Ow,” she howled. “Look what you did.” Jess sniffled. The blue gel stuck to her left pigtail as her toothbrush hung from the tresses.

  “I’m sorry.” I grinned, unable to bite back my giggle at how ridiculous she looked.

  A crocodile tear slid down her pale pudgy cheek.

  “We both know that didn’t hurt.” I rolled my eyes. Jess was such a baby sometimes. One little thing, and she’d always cry. Calling her a crybaby only got me into more trouble.

  “Did too.” Her tongue darted out and her face pinched tight as she got up from the floor.

  “Girls, be nice,” Mom cooed from the doorway as Jess got back up on the stool. “You’re not acting very princess like.” />
  I bit the inside of my cheek and brushed my teeth. I wanted to yell about how I shouldn’t have to share everything with Jess. It was unfair. Sometimes she still wet the bed. Jess knew she wasn’t supposed to drink anything after six, but she did it anyway. She had trouble waking up to go. When Mom knew she had drinks past her time, she tried to come in to wake her to go, but sometimes she would be too late.

  “Come here, Jess.” Mom called and fawned over her getting the paste out of her hair. At least I had the sink to myself for the moment. She wet a washcloth and then wiped the gel out. “There’s my pretty girl.”

  I rinsed and spit then moved out of the way. Mom grabbed a hairbrush and had me sit on the toilet lid while she got the tangles out of my hair. Jess shot me a mean look and started over brushing her teeth.

  We finished in the bathroom and climbed into bed. The top bunk was mine since I was older. Jess tried to sleep up here, but Mom always told her no. It was nice being the oldest. Also I didn’t want the bed wetter sleeping over top of me. No way. Snuggling deep into my dark purple blankets, I waited for Mom to tuck us in for the night.

  “Ewww.” My face scrunched, brows knitting together as the hideous smell hit my nostrils. “Jess farted.” I didn’t want to share a room with her and absolutely hated it. I always wanted my own, but Mom said that one day I’d miss having my sister so close. I didn’t believe her. I’d been happy to kick Jess out and decorate the way I wanted. Not to mention when I wanted to have sleepovers I wasn’t allowed to exclude Jess and had to share my friends with her. It wasn’t fair. They weren’t here to play with the crybaby, but if we ignored her, she’d go tattle and snot facing about me to Mom, and then I’d get yelled at.

  Mom shared a room with her sister and loved it, but just because she enjoyed doing so didn’t mean I did. Jess always bothered my stuff and left her toys in the floor. She never cleaned up after herself and always left me to do it. I always had extra chores because of my little sister. She got away with everything because she was the baby of the family.

  Jess giggled underneath me from her hot pink unicorn and rainbow print covers.

  “Everly, princesses don’t say fart,” Mom chastised, pressing her full soft lips to my forehead. Of course I’d be the one to get in trouble for this. Not Jess. I was the one suffering from her smelly butt. Mom shouldn’t have fed her popcorn. It always gave her gas.

  “Drake says fart.” My brother said all kinds of gross things and never seemed to get in any trouble whatsoever. He was the golden child. Drake never did anything wrong. Outside of Jess being the baby, he was Mom’s favorite.

  “Princes shouldn’t talk like that either,” she murmured softly. I leaned over the edge of my bunk and watched her tuck Jess in.

  “He’s an ogre.” Jess giggled, and I had to agree with her on that one. “He smells like a swamp like Shrek.”

  Drake had hit puberty which meant his room always smelled like someone had just let off a stink bomb. If Mom asked me to go in and get something from the room, I had to plug my nose and move super fast before the smell attacked me. His room should be quarantined. Who knew what grew under his bed.

  “Girls. That’s enough. Your brother isn’t a smelly swamp ogre. Princesses and Princes should be many things, but most of all they should be kind.”

  “And good with swords,” Jess interjected.

  “That’s important in some situations, yes. But one day when you’re older, you will meet your dashing prince, and when you do, he will be handsome with a caring heart. He’ll be loyal and protective. A prince should be respectful. Prideful but never vain.”

  “Like the lines in our arms?” my little sister questioned, and I laughed.

  “No, sweetheart. Vain means to think too highly of one’s self.”

  “Oh. Like you’re sitting up way high on a cloud.”

  I laughed harder. My sister was a real ditz.

  “It’s time to close your little eyes and float away to dream land, giggle boxes.”

  “You didn’t tell us a story.”

  “Alright. Once upon a time in a far away land lived two princesses named Everly and Jess. One night they kept being naughty and not doing as their mother, the queen, told them to.” Mom tickled Jess in the ribs.

  “And a smelly ogre named Drake ate them. The end.” I leaned over the edge of my bunk, sticking my tongue out at Jess.

  “I heard that,” Drake called from his room.

  “That’s enough for tonight. Get some sleep. Turn that TV off and get your teeth brushed, young man,” she called across the hallway to his room. That was another thing that was unfair. Drake had his own TV and gaming system in his room.

  As I closed my eyes and Mom turned off our lamp, I wondered if I would someday meet my prince. Would he be all the things my mother said he’d be? Or would I be kissing frogs my whole life?

  Everly

  Remember, As Far As Anyone Knows, We’re A Nice Normal Family…

  “Everyone, squeeze together in front of the fireplace,” Herbert, my stepfather directed, motioning us where he wanted us to stand. “Jess and Everly, you move to the front and kneel in front of your mother.” He adjusted his camera and turned the dial, glancing through the lens once more. The man loved taking photos of everything and not just snapshots, full out photoshoots.

  Rolling my eyes, I did as he asked, landing on my knees and resting my rear on my calves.

  Our red velvet stockings hung from the candy cane striped hooks with everyone’s names embroidered at the top in thick black thread. Garland with red bows and glitter dusted pinecones covered the top of the dark cherry stained mantle while the fireplace roared behind us.

  “Holly Jolly Christmas” played in the background, supposedly getting us into the holiday spirit. I wasn’t feeling very jolly at the moment, being moved this way and that for the perfect picture. Part of me detested taking pictures. I’d never been photogenic, though my mother insisted on capturing every moment to add to her gazillion scrapbooks she loved to make in her spare time. Some people had bookcases filled with actual books. My mother’s shelves were lined with her photo albums.

  Our mother and Herbert were hosting Christmas in their new home. When they had married, Herbert moved into our childhood home. They had lived there for about a year before Mom said there were too many memories of our father there and decided they needed a fresh start, a place of their own to make new memories.

  Part of me understood, but part of me would always ache for my father. It was like him being ripped away once again as all the memories of that place disappeared. Sometimes when I had him on my mind, I’d drive by there on my way to the cemetery. A new family lived there now. I saw them out in the driveway once, a family of four.

  My mother adored Christmas, so I bit back the thoughts of him and plastered a smile on my face, not wanting to ruin it with my tears.

  Ugly Christmas sweater was the theme this year, and we were all quite the sight in our matching ones.

  Mine had a snowman outlined in gold tinsel and enough sequins to create two or three others easily. The shop had several different choices, but this one called to me.

  Jess grinned at me wearing her homemade Pinterest fail. She attempted the reindeer boob cutout sweater, where one cut a hole on one side of the sweater where your boob hung out. Then on the boob, you glued a red round sparkle to cover the nip and add reindeer antlers to the sweater. Yes, when she told me about it, I had to Google it to figure out what in the hell she was talking about.

  My sister loved to push boundaries and try new things. Sometimes I wondered if she weren’t an exhibitionist or a voyeur. Jess loved the attention enough.

  The fail came in when she cut the hole way too big and flashed us with the other boob too. Why she chose this, I’d never know; especially with how tightly our mother was wound. Mom being appalled as expected forced her to sew a patch over the hole. Now she looked even more ridiculous. The patch of fabric Mom had given her didn’t match her sweater at all.
She had this large floral pattern rectangle I swore came off an old curtain panel.

  Her boyfriend Casey donned a puke green sweater, bells dangling between Santa’s legs and underneath it read: Jingle My Balls. Drake jingled the bells, then held his fist up for one of those stupid macho handshake things. Casey and Jess were a perfect match. Both of them had to be the biggest goofs I’d ever met. He pushed his way between Jess and me, putting an arm over both of our shoulders as we knelt. “Don’t worry, Everly, we can pretend I’m your boyfriend too.” If I rolled my eyes any harder, I’d have shit on my eyebrows from seeing my own ass. My single status seemed to be the butt of every joke.

  The fire crackled behind the protective screen, and the scent of pine and cinnamon filled the room. The perfect Christmas backdrop. I still hadn’t managed to find my Christmas spirit. I should’ve dressed as the Grinch. He seemed an appropriate spirit animal to fit my mood.

  Drake, my brother, and Herbert had gone to one of the local Christmas tree farms earlier and cut down a gorgeous blue spruce. Clear lights danced on the branches, reflecting in the picture window that took up most of the wall of the family room and stood to attention next to us. It wouldn’t be the best picture without the tree.