Colorful, p.1
Colorful, page 1
COLORFUL
By T. Maree
Contents
Colorful
About This Book
Disclaimer/Content Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About The Author
ABOUT THIS BOOK
AMARA
Life really is that thing that happens while you’re busy making other plans.
I had my five-year goals set out and ready to put into action when a stranger in a diner suddenly proposed to me, desperate to have someone help him out of a sticky situation.
Not knowing who he was at the time, I agreed to play along. It was only meant to be for one weekend, I could ignore my feelings for him and my hormones for that long, right? That was until things quickly snowballed and we found ourselves at the alter saying I do.
CONNOR
When I met Amara, I hadn’t realized I’d be proposing to the love of my life on a whim.
I’m an up-and-coming rockstar just one hit away from making the big-time, the last thing on my mind was to get married, and to a stranger no less.
Fate, however, doesn’t care about our plans.
It doesn’t take long for me to fall for the nerdy knock-out, but will she let me keep her when our time runs out?
Cover by T. Maree | Edits by Fluffy Fox Publishing | Proofing done by Adrianne Normanton
© 2024 by T. Maree
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in crucial reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales are purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are only used for reference. There is not implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
NO PART OF THIS BOOK IN ANY STAGE, IN ANY CAPACITY, WAS CREATED USING ANY FORM OF A.I.
CONTENT WARNING
Graphic sexual scenes, and coarse language. Not all possible triggers have been mentioned. By reading further, you, as the reader, are continuing with the understanding that this book has darker tones and that not all possible triggers may have been mentioned. The author and any who contributed to this work cannot and will not be held accountable for a reader’s actions, reactions, or state of mind after reading this book
OTHER BOOKS BY ME
ALEXIS MAREE
THE KINGS OF HELL SERIES:
The Kings of Hell – Cole
The Kings of Hell - Adrik
The Kings of Hell – Malik
T. MAREE
THE LEAH REYNOLDS SERIES:
Sins in the Silence
Sins of a Daughter
Sins of the Past
Sins of the Enemy
Sins of the Forbidden
Sins of the Blood
STANDALONES
Falling for the Mountain Man
LUNA MAREE
L’Amour Island
Her Sir & Sire
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Debra St James.
You are a wonderful friend, an incredible person, and a fantastic author who’s imagination created a few of the minor characters in this story.
Never stop writing, and thank you for the wonderful stories you have created.
AUTHOR NOTE
An author friend of mine, Debra St James, wrote a duet called the Summer Twins. I loved these characters so much, that I asked Debra St James’s permission to have them cameo in my stand-alone romance novel.
You do not need to have read her books to read this story.
However, if you haven’t read her books yet, I highly recommend them as they’re not only beautiful romances, but every book she writes holds an important message.
Follow this link below to her website to find all of her amazing works!
CHAPTER ONE
AMARA
“Marry me.”
I glanced up from my book with a frown, wanting to see who would make a proposal that sounded so much like a demand, perhaps even a plea. Only, I found myself staring into the wide and slightly desperate chocolate brown eyes of a man. I blinked a few times and then finally took in the rest of him; his broad shoulders were encased in a tight black t-shirt and a dark brown leather jacket, and his skin had a natural tan to it. He was built like a line-backer and had the height to match it.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head to try and clear it. He looked tense and it was then I noticed the stunning diamond ring in his hand. “Wait, what?!” I repeated, leaning back in the booth quickly.
“I need you to pretend to be my fiancé,” he told me hurriedly, shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder. I continued to sit in stunned silence. Surely, I had misheard him, right?
“You need me to… pretend to be your fiancé?” I repeated, wanting to make sure I heard him right.
“Yes! Please, yes—look, I need to escape the needy claws of my ex-girlfriend and my loving and well-intentioned mother. I’m being ambushed, and I’m desperate. Please, pretend to be my fiancé and I’ll take you on a real date. You can take photos of us together and post them wherever you want. We’ll go somewhere fancy, money is no issue, obviously. I’ll even take you on a shopping spree, but please, please, just pretend to be my fiancé!”
I was flabbergasted, torn between sympathy at the pure distress and desperation that was choking his voice, to wanting to laugh hysterically that he thought he could buy me off, then wanting to slap him in his too good-looking face for his arrogance in thinking that simply going on a date with him could be considered payment for lying to his mother for him.
“I…” I struggled to find the words—and that was a new thing for me. I could speak three languages other than English. I had a rather high IQ, and I finished high school when I was fifteen. At twenty-four I had my doctorate in child psychology, a bachelor’s degree in clinical psychology, and a masters in linguistics. I also had every intention of completing a business degree. Suffice to say, I had never been at a loss for words before. In fact, I usually prided myself on being able to tear shreds off people with my words alone. My mother had once called me her Warrior of Words—I could tell someone to go screw themselves in such a way that they actually looked forward to the trip.
Yet this man and his total cacophony of desperation and sheer arrogance had me stymied.
“Look,” he said with the air of a person about to explain something to someone who was very slow. “I know this is an odd request, and I know you’re probably shocked to be talking to me right now, but you look smart and so I thought maybe you’d be quick off the bat,” he begged. Reality came crashing back down around my ears and I crossed my arms over my stomach and glared at him.
“Oh, very good. You noticed my glasses and saw me reading something that wasn’t a fashion magazine and assumed I was a nerd,” I snapped.
He frowned, temporarily distracted. “No, I saw that you were reading Finnegans Wake like it was the back of a cereal box and drew the conclusion that you were intelligent, and therefore I hoped was quick to understand. The glasses were just a cute touch.”
Again, I found myself momentarily speechless that this female wet dream in the flesh knew Finnegans Wake and that it was a difficult read.
“Please, I need someone to pretend to be my fiancé right now to save me from the tortures I am sure to endure should my mother see me here without a woman that I am serious about. My ex is going to be with her, and I don’t want to deal with her. Please, I beg of you, just pretend you’re my fiancé. You can use any of the information you already know about me as background information and I’ll fill in the rest,” he continued to plead, his eyes resting on me briefly but otherwise searched around the restaurant as if for an assailant.
My jaw opened and closed a few times as I did what I am sure was an excellent impression of a goldfish.
What the actual hell?
“What’s your name?” he asked, for the first time focusing on my face for longer than three seconds.
“Amara,” I stammered, so shocked that I answered without thinking.
“Amara—lovely to meet you. So, what do you say? Want to be my fiancé for the evening?” he asked, offering me the ring again.
“Umm… no?” I answered awkwardly.
“Great, thanks—wait, no?” he asked, clearly astonished at the answer. I wanted to jeer at the pure disbelief I could see there.
“No, thank you?” I offered, shaking off the residual astonishment over being accosted like this.
“Why?”
I scoffed. “You’re asking me to lie to your mother for you, and acting as if being in your company for an evening is supposed to be some kind of reward or treat. I don’t know who the hell you are, but you really need to consider the fact that not everyone loves you as much as you do.” I shook my head at his audacity and closed my book before I put it back in my bag. He stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open, doing a great impersonation of me from only a few seconds before.
“You don’t… You don’t know who I am?” he asked, as if it was truly shocking. I raised an eyebrow and slid the shoulder strap of my laptop case over my chest.
“Should I?”
“Well… yes.”
Unimpressed with the sheer arrogance of the man before me, I spared him a rather sarcastic smile and stood.
“Well, I’m sure knowing you for an evening would enrich my life in ways I could not possibly fathom, but I’m going to pass on the chance to pretend to be your fiancé. Good luck with your charade. Maybe some other woman in here will help you,” I told him as I stepped away.
“Wait,” he called again, standing up to block my path. I stepped back slightly, not realizing just how tall he was. The guy was well over six feet. “You seriously don’t know who I am?”
“No. Why does that surprise you?” I asked, not liking that he’d blocked my exit. He was looking at me as if I were some kind of miracle.
“Do you ever watch TV or listen to the radio?” he asked, appearing to be honestly and completely struck dumb by the fact that I didn’t recognize him.
“I prefer Spotify for my music. And I usually watch Netflix or Prime if I want to watch TV, but I’m usually too busy for that,” I admitted with a frown. He raked a hand through his hair and stared at me with bemusement.
“Wow… sorry. It’s just… wow,” he gaped.
I offered him a strained smile and shrugged. “Okay. So, I’m going to leave now.”
“Wait—”
“Connor, baby! There you are!” a woman cried, her voice sickeningly sugary. The man before me—Connor, I presumed—stiffened and closed his eyes in defeat, his shoulders tense. He sighed and hung his head, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man.
“Is that…?” I trailed off in a whisper. Connor opened his dark eyes and nodded slowly.
“The ex,” he murmured and exhaled heavily.
“Oof, that sucks.”
“Please?” he begged again. I shook my head and stepped away from him. God no, I was not going to go along with whatever plan this guy had in mind.
“Baby, where have you been?” the woman simpered as she reached us. She glued herself to his side, one of her hands sliding up his impressive chest, her full lips in a small pout. I almost shrank against the wall at the sight of her; she was truly stunning. Porcelain skin, crystal blue eyes, and platinum blonde hair that shone like satin. There wasn’t a blemish or a mark on her, and her clothes obviously cost more than my car.
“Cindy, please keep your hands to yourself,” Connor requested calmly, trying to pry her off him.
She pouted heavier. “Awe baby, come on. You know I didn’t mean it when we broke up last time. I never do,” she explained with a knowing smile, as if breaking up was a game.
“Yeah, well, I meant it when I walked out the door,” Connor replied tactfully, his dark eyes meeting mine again. It was time for me to leave; this was awkward.
“Cindy, I thought you were going to wait for me,” another voice called out. Connor glanced to the side, and I was surprised to see his face split into a genuine smile.
For one horrifying moment, I felt myself give an inward sigh of bliss at the way that smile transformed this already hotter-than-was-legal man in front of me into a veritable treat for all womankind. His eyes warmed greatly, and it was obvious the love he had for the older woman. She was all class and style—there was something about her that told me she was older than she looked.
“Hey, Mom,” he greeted and wrapped the smaller woman in his impressive arms. She was grinning as she hugged him, and her eyes landed on me over his shoulder and widened slightly.
“Oh, sorry. Who is this?” she asked, indicating to me. I panicked at her question, and I opened my mouth to explain that I was no one when Connor stepped back and took my hand, tugging me to his side. I let out something akin to a squeak and he looked down at me, grinning.
“Mom, I want you to meet Amara, my girlfriend. Amara, this is my mother, Margaret,” he introduced. My voice seemed to have disappeared under the look of pure joy on the older woman.
“Oh! Hello, Amara. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Maggie.” She gasped and took my hand. Her dark eyes—so much like her son’s—dragged over me from head to toe, and I was surprised that a high-society woman such as herself did not look at me in distaste. If anything, her eyes shone brighter and her smile more genuine. I tried to speak up, I really did.
She slapped Connor lightly on the arm and scowled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone? And why didn’t you tell me I’d be meeting her today?”
“I, uh, wanted it to be a surprise,” Connor explained, squeezing my hand in a silent plea to play along. I wanted to clear things up right now, but it was so hard when his mother looked at me with such happiness. It was obvious how much she loved her son, and to see how happy she was at his success in dating a woman she seemed to approve of made it seriously hard to speak up and tell her the truth.
“She’s your girlfriend?” Cindy, the gorgeous blonde, finally asked.
“Yes,” Connor answered confidently, sliding his thumb over my hand gently. Where his mother, Margaret, looked at me with sincere joy, Cindy looked me over searchingly, her crystal eyes noting every crease of my clothing. I wasn’t a self-conscious woman. I was quite happy with the way I looked and so her slow perusal of me didn’t have me squirming as I was sure she had hoped.
“How long have you been dating?” Cindy asked.
“Five months,” Connor answered quickly.
His mother beamed brighter. “Where did you meet?”
“Uh, at the library,” I answered quickly without thinking. Connor squeezed my hand tighter, and Cindy raised a delicate eyebrow.
“The library?” she repeated in disbelief.
“Yes,” I added with more confidence. Margaret looked between the two of us quickly, her eyes dropping to our intertwined fingers and back up, her smile widening with excitement. Stars above; she was like a kid on Christmas. Who the hell told a kid on Christmas that Santa wasn’t real?
No one, that’s who, and that meant I couldn’t either.
“I was doing some research for work,” Connor added. His mother appeared to believe it, but Cindy looked between the two of us skeptically.
“Well, let’s not all stand around interrogating poor Amara. Let’s take a seat,” Margaret suggested, and with that, we all shuffled back over to the booth I had just vacated. Connor allowed me to slide in first, but I had the distinct feeling this was to trap me here rather than allow me the easy escape route of the aisle seat. Cindy waited as Margaret slid in first on their side before sitting down gingerly, like she expected the seat to tear her obviously expensive outfit.
It really did suit her: the dark blue of her dress brought out the turquoise of her eyes. Her makeup was done to such perfection that it was hard to tell she was wearing any, and her dress was trendy and fashionable. It was simple, but it accentuated all the best aspects of her figure.
“Is there something on my dress?” Cindy asked, and I realized I’d been staring.
“What? Oh! No, I’m so sorry I was staring,” I quickly answered. “You just… that color really brings out the blue of your eyes; it’s stunning. I was just admiring how understated it is without being boring. It’s the perfect balance between elegance and youth,” I complimented honestly. Cindy looked taken aback for a moment, but then her lips turned up in satisfaction.
“Well, thank you,” she said, her eyes zipping over me again as if trying to work something out. I smiled and then my eyes flicked back to Margaret whose face was so bright I was amazed I didn’t go blind.
“Connor—I have to ask. How serious is this? I mean, this is the first time your mother is hearing of this,” Cindy asked, her eyes finally leaving me to rest on Connor.
