Ploy: Fake Marriage Single Dad Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Bonus Story by Alison White

  Denile

  Also by J.J. Bella

  Ploy

  Fake Married to the Single Dad

  J.J. Bella

  Copyright © 2017 by J.J. Bella

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Bonus Story by Alison White

  I. Denile

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Also by J.J. Bella

  About the Author

  J.J. “Jane” Bella has always enjoyed reading since she was a little girl, reading everything she could get her hands on.

  Today she loves to write contemporary steamy romance stories for her favorite readers.

  Plotting sexy and sweet novellas while walking her dogs has always proven to be an exciting experience on a hot summer day.

  Wouldn’t you play with strong Alpha Males, wild Bad boys, and wealthy Billionaires if they provided you with happy endings too?

  J.J. lives in New England with her husband of many happy years, three children and two family Papillons.

  You may just find her writing on the lake, at the ocean, by a brook, in the middle of a NE snow storm, or on the deck in the Fall.

  She also loves to hear from her readers and to share Hot new sweltering stories with everyone.

  [email protected]

  1

  I was excited. Beyond excited. Jumping-around-my-apartment-and-screaming excited. Respectful of those who lived on either side of the paper-thin walls of my apartment, however, I suppressed acting out. But a big, broad smile spread across my face and my feet stomped on the ground as I read the contents of the email opened on my laptop before me.

  Ms. Roxanne James-

  It's my pleasure to welcome you to my Ancient Archeology 404 course for this fall semester. As you well know, attendance for the class is very limited, and only the most promising students are accepted. After a careful examination of your school records, as well as your statement essay, I feel that you would be a wonderful fit for the course. Ancient Archeology 404 is a demanding course and will test the limits of your scholarship. But I wouldn't have picked you if I didn't believe that you would excel. I'm aware that this is a last-minute addition to your schedule, but it's one that I sincerely hope that you'll be able to accommodate. The course syllabus is attached. Please look it over and feel free to respond with any questions you may have. I look forward to seeing you for the fall semester.

  Professor Evan McCall

  I couldn't believe it. I mean, I knew my grades were good, and I did spend quite a bit of time writing my statement essay (not to mention obsessing over each and every word), but still, I signed up for the course as a lark; I didn't think I'd actually get in.

  Professor Evan McCall. I mouthed the words as I sat back in my desk chair. Professor McCall was something of a celebrity around Missouri State. Handsome, brilliant, charming- all the girls, even those who couldn't give less of a damn about archeology wanted to be sitting front and center in his courses. But he had some pull around campus, and made sure that his class rosters were small and exclusive; no lecture halls for this professor.

  I was a little excited to see what the fuss was about with Professor Gorgeous, as my friend Kelly who had taken one of his courses referred to him, but more than that I was excited to be in what was supposed to be one of the best archeology courses in the city, maybe even the country. Like I said, Professor McCall was something of a celebrity, and he didn't have this reputation just because he was evidently beyond sexy. Professor McCall's most recent work on the Akkadians, Obsidian and Empire, had managed to make its way to the New York Times bestseller list. And every girl on campus had swooned over the picture on the dust jacket of him standing in front of some far away desert ruins, a serious expression on his handsome face, his jet-black hair wind-blown, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone and hinting at the sculpted pecs below…

  The chiming of my cell phone snapped me out of my daydreaming. Closing my laptop and snatching the phone from where it sat nearby, I saw that I had new text from Paul, the guy that I've kind- of been seeing here and there, off and on, kinda-sorta.

  Hey! We still on for tonight? =)

  Ugh. I hated the way he used emojis. I mean, I don't consider myself a girly girl who expects guys to act certain ways, but something about the goofy, smiley face emojis that always filled Paul's texts was really off-putting. I was going to respond and confirm that we were, but thinking about what I'd just read, I checked the email once again. Sure enough, the course was tomorrow. Today was the first day of most of my classes, and Professor McCall wasn't kidding about this being a last-minute addition. Someone must've dropped at the last minute, and I silently thanked my good fortune. Paul and I had planned on getting dinner tonight, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen, what with my full day of classes and the studying that needed to happen after. And if what Katie had said about Professor McCall's course was true, there wasn't going to be much time for dating in my future.

  Um, not sure. Probably not =(. Lotsa classes. Maybe tomorrow?

  I sent the phone down and pushed it away as if trying to put as much distance between me and Paul as possible. He was a nice guy, definitely, and kind of a fun summer thing, but now that classes were ready to get started again, dating seemed less and less interesting to me. Right now, I was all about archeology, and eager to get my classes. Checking the time, I saw that I had just enough time to take a quick shower and get on with my day.

  A half hour later or so later, I was ready to go. I grabbed my things, and headed out the front door. The morning air had a chill to it, even more than I'd expect for early January in Missouri. I wasn't a Midwest girl, so any temperature lower than sixty was frosty and brisk compared to what I was used to. Hey, you grow up in Santa Cruz and tell me how you handle weather that isn't a perfect seventy-two.

  I jumped into my car and made the quick drive to campus.
First up for today was an English Literature survey course, which I wasn't looking forward to all that much. I was more interested in unearthing ancient secrets than in reading Canterbury Tales, so I spent the majority of that class daydreaming about what Professor McCall's class tomorrow. After English Lit was my college algebra course, followed by French Conversation. Soon, the day was over, and late afternoon had arrived. Walking out of my last course, I was eager to run home, grab something to eat, and get a head start on my work. I knew that the first day of classes should be for getting settled in, but I'd had too many experiences these last few semesters with putting off work until, before I knew it, it was halfway through the semester. This spring was going to be different.

  But as I walked briskly towards my car, weaving through the crowds of students in the quad, I heard a familiar voice.

  "Hey, Roxy!"

  I felt a spontaneous wince overcome me. I knew that it was Paul. Turning around, I saw him bounding towards me like a big puppy, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing around the big, dopey smile he always seemed to be wearing. Like I said, Paul was nice. Too nice. And also a little dumb. We met at an end-of-semester party a couple of months ago, and he seemed like as good of a guy as any to pass the fall semester with. But now his clinginess was starting to wear a little thin.

  "Hey," I said, looking away and tucking a stray strand of my brown hair behind my ear as he approached.

  "Crazy seeing you here," he said, speaking over the low roar of conversation around us from the other students.

  "Well, I mean, we both go here, so…"

  "Yeah, yeah- I guess you're right. Still crazy."

  I sighed. I had no idea how I got involved with a guy like him. Sure, he was tall and built, but I must've been more desperate for company this semester than I realized. At that moment, I knew that I needed to break things off. But right then and there? I had to think of something else.

  "So, looks like you're done with classes for the day, right?" he said. "That means you're free for hanging out tonight?"

  Ugh. I really, really, wanted to just grab some Chipotle or something, get home, and start on my studying. I was starting to get annoyed by how Paul just wasn't getting the hint.

  "I can't," I said. "I just want to kind of chill out tonight. Maybe do some studying."

  "Oh, that's cool too!" he said. "I can come over; we can study together."

  This was even worse. I knew from the few study dates we had as the spring semester was ending that "studying" with Paul meant him alternating between showing me stupid videos from Reddit and trying to get in my pants.

  Trying and failing of course- believe it or not, I was a senior in college and still a virgin.

  "I don't know…" I said, trailing off; I was running out of options.

  Right at that moment, a tall, stunningly handsome man strolled past. I waved my hand to grab his attention, and he turned towards me with a serious look on his face.

  "Um, excuse me?" I said, doing my doe-eyed, lost undergrad act.

  "Yes?" he said, his voice stern.

  I was a little surprised at this; I thought he was a student –he certainly looked young enough to be one- but his demeanor was professional and serious. Not to mention his well-tailored suit made him a stark contrast to the hoodie-and-jean wearing guys around us.

  He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

  "I was looking for the Arts and Sciences building…can you help me?" I said, twirling a strand of hair in my finger.

  "It's right over there," said the man, point down the south end of the campus while turning his body to leave.

  "Could you show me? I'm really lost."

  Paul wanted to speak, but all he could do was open his mouth. The man sighed, clearly wanting to do anything but lead a clueless freshman around campus.

  "Fine, fine," he said. "Come on."

  "I'll talk to you later Paul; see ya," I said, Paul raising a finger in protest but saying nothing.

  The man led me along the lanes leading to the Arts and Sciences building, and I kept up my ditzy student routine throughout, wasting time with stupid questions and observations. I was hoping to drag the walk out for as long as possible, to make it clear to Paul that I wasn't coming back.

  "Here," said the man gesturing towards a three-story glass and steel building that now loomed over us. "Arts and Sciences."

  The man was gorgeous, to say the least. Black hair, chiseled features, and a he was tall- really tall. I wanted to thank him, but found myself tongue-tied at his good looks.

  "This is where you say ‘thank you'," he said, clearly eager to get on with his day.

  "Um, thanks," I said, now being stupid and clueless for real.

  And with that, he took off, my eyes lingering on him as he left.

  Who was that man? I thought, watching him leave. And just why does he look so familiar?

  2

  Walking with long, brisk steps down the path leading back to my office, I checked the time.

  I was running late.

  I was happy to help a student find her way, as brusque as I might've seemed, but that young woman certainly had found a way to eat into my time. As I darted past the tight knots of students, I found myself wondering just how leading a student to the Arts and Sciences building had managed to take so very long.

  She was cute, though, I couldn't help but notice that. Chocolate brown hair, emerald-green eyes, and full pouty lips. I shook my head at this observation; sure, I wasn't too much older than these undergrads, but being a professor made me feel like I was in another world. Still, hard to not notice a beauty like her.

  I put these thoughts out of my head as I made my way to my car. Checking the time again, I saw that I was likely to be running late to Darla, my daughter's, dance recital. Frustration welled inside of me as I strode across the parking lot; I promised Darla that I'd be on time for once, and now it was looking as though I was going to break yet another promise. Part of me wanted to yell internally at the student for taking up so much of my time, especially since it was quite clear that she was doing nothing more than making her boyfriend jealous, but I knew that such feelings would be fruitless, and only serve to make me drive more recklessly than I needed to.

  Soon, I spotted the familiar form of my coal-black Mercedes. I shook my head, as always, as soon as I laid eyes on it. It was flashier, much flashier than I needed, but after the success of my most recent book, as well as the speaking tour that followed, I managed to get talked into it after popping into a dealership to look around. I preferred to live a more Spartan lifestyle, one free from too much consumerism, but I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't dreamed of owning a Mercedes convertible since I was little. And once I saw how much money I had left over even after I set aside all I needed for Darla's future college fund, I succumbed.

  Sliding in and gunning the engine, I left the parking lot and drove down the main road of the town towards the school gymnasium where Darla's recital was taking place. The clock ticked to five, the designated starting time, and each minute that passed after that was like a knife in my gut. I hated disappointing Darla more than anything, but balancing my academic career with being a single father was difficult; every now and then something just had to give.

  Soon, I pulled into the parking lot of the school gym, parked, and rushed towards the entrance.

  "Name?" asked the frumpy, middle-aged woman standing out front.

  "Evan McCall," I said, looking past her to see if I could catch a glimpse of Darla. "I'm Darla's father."

  "Oh, welcome," said the woman, searching around on the plastic fold-out table before her for the name tag with my name on it. "Here we are."

  She slapped the tag on my chest.

  "Please quietly find your seat; the show's already begun."

  I couldn't help but notice there was a little judgment to her tone. And to be honest, I felt I deserved a little scolding. Dashing down the hallway leading to the main stage room, I opened one of the big doors with
the metal bar on the front, revealing a theater jam-packed full of parents. On stage were a handful of girls, all dressed in colorful outfits. All the eyes nearby latched onto me as soon as I stepped in. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I slid into the nearest open seat, hoping that the hip-hop dance music blasting from the stage would mask my arrival.

  Soon, Darla came on stage, dressed in a deep red outfit with tassels draped from the arms. She was flanked by two other girls, each in a matching blue. As soon as the applause died down, the girls went into their routine. I watched with rapt attention, observing with pride my daughter as she danced, tumbled, and soared onstage. My heart welled with pride as I watched her.

  Eventually, the hour was up, and the girls all came on stage to thunderous applause. After they took their bows, the parents filed out into the hallway to meet their children.

  "Daddy!" said Darla, throwing her arms around me. "I thought you weren't going to show up!"

  I winced at these words; I simply hated being the type of parent that left his child wondering if I was going to be there for them when they needed me. It's how my father was, and I swore long ago that I'd never be that way.

  "Hey, Dee," I said, calling her by the name I'd called her since she was a baby.

  Darla had just turned eight not too long ago, and I couldn't believe how fast the time was passing.

  "Did you like the show?" she said, the hallway now filled with the light conversation of parents all congratulating their children.