How to Not Fall for the Wrong Guy: A Sweet and Humorous Romance Read online

  How to Not Fall for the Wrong Guy

  A Sweet and Humorous Romance

  Meg Easton

  Book Two in the How to Not Fall series

  Copyright © 2020 by Meg Easton

  ASIN: B087CL9463

  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.

  This is a work of fiction and names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, incidents, and places is coincidental.

  Cover Illustration by Blue Water Books

  Interior Design by Mountain Heights Publishing

  Author website: www.megeaston.com

  For my sister, Janet

  Contents

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  1. Bex

  2. Roman

  3. Bex

  4. Roman

  5. Bex

  6. Roman

  7. Bex

  8. Roman

  9. Bex

  10. Roman

  11. Bex

  12. Roman

  13. Bex

  14. Roman

  15. Bex

  16. Roman

  17. Bex

  18. Roman

  19. Bex

  20. Roman

  21. Bex

  22. Roman

  23. Bex

  24. Roman

  Epilogue: Peyton

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  ABOUT MEG EASTON

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  1

  Bex

  Bex sat back as her sisters, Kenna, Nikki, and Roxanna, talked over one another, discussing which pet was the one they would never let into their home—a mouse, fish, or a snake. Her viewers loved how lively the discussions got in her Sterling Sisters segments on her YouTube channel. Bex loved it because everyone talking over one another was the sound of home.

  A very lively, raucous, crazy-as-a-crate-full-of-kittens home.

  Bex turned to her oldest sister. “Let me get this straight, Kenna. You would seriously rather have a snake in your house than a fish? A fish can’t even get out of its tank!”

  It didn’t matter what the subject was that they discussed—it could be serious issues, political, world problems, or something as inconsequential or un-serious as which pet they didn’t want, where they’d go on a dream vacation, or favorite fast food restaurant. All five Sterling sisters had reinforced-steel opinions and an even stronger need to share them.

  “Yes, but,” Kenna said, holding up a finger, “when I look at a snake, I’m not reminded of sixth grade and Jack Pearson and how I accidentally killed the fish he gave me.”

  “Fair enough,” Bex said. “As long as I don’t have to ever have a bird in my house, I’m okay with whatever issues with animals you guys have.”

  “Asher wants a bird,” Vivian said.

  Bex threw her hands to her cheeks in horror, playing it up for the camera, but still feeling a bit of it anyway. “You aren’t going to let him, are you?”

  “Are you kidding?” Vivian sad. “Our house is already too much of a zoo.”

  “I forgot about you and birds,” Nikki breathed. “It was a couple of seagulls that stole the bread off your sandwich at the beach that one time, right?”

  “It wasn’t a couple,” Bex said, the hairs on her arms lifting just thinking about the terror of that moment again, “it was at least a dozen. A dozen strong-winged, pointy-beaked, claw-footed swooping menaces. And they didn’t just steal my bread—it was my entire sandwich. If stealing my lunch right out of my hands wasn’t enough, they attacked me! Even after I told them they could have my sandwich and ran away, they chased me down, stabbing their beaks into my pockets and squawking at me for being so rude as to not have brought more.”

  Her sisters all gave each other knowing looks, and Vivian held up two fingers, mouthing there were two birds, as if Bex couldn’t see. She might be sporting an actual blush across her cheeks right now, but she’d take the razzing because her viewers were probably loving it.

  “Whatever. You guys remember it how you want, and I’ll remember it how it actually was.”

  At the sound of ten kids bursting through the back door of the inn—which meant they would be in the gathering room where they were filming in about 3.5 seconds—Bex said, “Thank you for joining us for a rousing Sterling Sisters segment. Don’t forget to like the video and subscribe and—”

  “And”—her sister, Fiona, cut in—“leave memes and gifs of birds for Bex in the comment section!”

  “Don’t do that,” Bex said in her sternest voice, looking straight into the camera, like she was trying to bore straight into the thoughts of every single viewer. And knowing full well that her viewers were going to do exactly what Fiona asked them to do anyway.

  She clicked the remote on the camera to turn it off just as her four-year-old nephew, Drew, shot through the room and leaped, plowing into his mom to give her a hug. Bex reached out to grab hold of the back of Vivian’s chair and Nikki reached out to do the same from the other side, keeping it from falling over backward from the force of Drew’s hug.

  “Whoa,” Vivian said. “You nearly knocked me over with that one.”

  “My love for you is strong,” Drew said, pounding a fist into his chest.

  “Make sure you save some for your siblings and your dad. Now run and get on your shoes—it’s time to go.”

  “All the rest of you, too,” Bex’s oldest sister, Kenna, called out. “Shoes on and head to the lobby.”

  Bex stood, reached out a hand, and pulled her pregnant sister, Nikki, to her feet. Then she pulled all of her sisters into a group hug. “You all are the best. Thank you, once again, for voicing your strong opinions, even when we disagree on things like the facts of certain events.”

  Her sister, Fiona, grinned. “Oh, you love us because we disagree and you know it.”

  “True. These segments would be boring if you all didn’t have such strong opinions that you’d defend with your dying breath.”

  “I don’t know about you guys,” Kenna said, trying to usher her three kids toward the front door, “but, Bex, I’ll happily tell you that you’re wrong any chance I get.”

  “As the one who has spent my entire life as the youngest in a houseful of bossy older sisters, believe me, I know.”

  Her sisters all started shooing their kids out the door while trying to gather up all their things and make sure each one had shoes on. Ten kids. She wanted to just gather them all together and surround them with hugs.

  She didn’t know what look was on her face, but Nikki must’ve seen it. “You’ll find the right guy soon, and you’ll be able to add your own kids to the mix before you know it.”

  Bex let out a long breath. “I hope you’re right, but it’s looking rather doubtful.”

  Once Kenna, Vivian, Roxanna, and the ten kids made it out the door and into their cars, Bex and Nikki headed back into the gathering room and to the desk she had set up toward the back windows for their weekly planning session. They sat across from each other, and Nikki pulled out the planner that contained the schedule of Bex’s life down to the minute. If it weren’t for that planner, Bex
’s life would be like a giant box of beads that burst open, spilling everywhere. That’s why Bex hired her as her detail person—because Nikki took care of all the little details that often got missed when Bex was focusing on the big picture.

  “The biggest things we need to discuss,” Nikki said as she absently rubbed her hand on her pregnant belly, “are your plans for the episodes during the judging period for the Eddie Awards.”

  Bex tapped her pen on her lips. “For the Sterling Sisters segments, we need a couple of fun and interesting debate topics. Like what one non-electronic device would you want if you were going to be trapped inside an office building for a month, or what the best way is to talk your significant other into choosing to watch the movie you want.”

  “Ha! I can already imagine Kenna’s answer. Maybe we could even do one about most embarrassing moments.” She glanced at her phone that sat on the desk, and then picked it up. “Aww!” She turned the phone toward Bex. “How sweet is this?”

  Bex leaned in to see her brother-in-law’s text that read This is what’s waiting for you when you get home, along with a selfie of him stirring a pan of chicken tikka masala.

  “Is he the greatest, or what?”

  “He’s a solid four point five trillion times better than your last husband.” Bex smiled at her sister’s pregnant belly—the belly that held her future nephew—and was so glad that Nikki divorced that jerk before having any kids. She was happy knowing that the little guy who was going to make an appearance in a couple of months was going to get such a good guy for a dad.

  “You got that right. Okay, so you know what you’re doing for the Inn Roomies segments?”

  Bex nodded. “Mostly. Still working out the details, but we’ll have fun with that one.”

  “And your interviews?”

  She grabbed Nikki’s arm. “I can’t believe I haven’t told you already! I put a poll out to my readers, asking who they wanted me to interview, and let anyone add choices to the list. So, of course, the list grew to roughly the length of a CVS receipt in the first couple of hours, but then favorites started rising to the top. Guess who has been on top for the past thirty-six hours? Corbin Shields!”

  “Are you kidding me?! Oh, wow, Bex. If you could get him...”

  “I know. I want the interview to be a four-part one, and he’d be so perfect. The guy has so much charisma and so many interests and is always willing to put on a show for his fans. If I could get him to agree to it, I think we’d have a good chance at this award.”

  “You’d have it in the bag. Getting him to agree to a four-part interview isn’t going to be easy, though.”

  “Even if he was willing, I’d have to hope his publicist could fit me in the cracks of his schedule.” It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew the guy’s fans were important to him, and so was appearing to be accessible to them. She could play up that angle with his publicist, and she was sure she could talk him into it.

  She grabbed her laptop that sat on the edge of the desk and pulled it toward her, opening it and turning it on. “The last time I checked—which was over four hours ago—one hundred thirty-two thousand viewers voted to have me interview him. Voting closes in five days, and I’m hoping that he has an impressive enough number by then that he won’t want to say no.”

  She logged in and brought up the website. Then she just stared at the numbers, not understanding what she was seeing.

  Nikki leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “Who is Roman Powell?”

  “No. No, no, no. How is he in first place?” Bex refreshed the screen, hoping it was a mistake, but he was still in the number one spot. How did this happen? Corbin Shields was now in second place, a full nine thousand votes behind Roman. She ran her hands over her face, but that was about as effective at reversing this as rewinding a movie in hopes that it would end differently.

  “Bex!” Nikki said. “Who is Roman Powell?”

  “He’s one of the groomsmen from Addison and Ian’s wedding.”

  “Oh. The good-looking one who drove you nuts and made the flower girl chuck the flowers?”

  “That’s the one. Nikki, he can’t win. Corbin Shields is so charismatic that not only will we be able to come up with some fun ideas for the interview, but my audience will eat it up. It’ll be a win-win for both of us. Roman, though, is a cardboard cutout of a man in a tailored suit with a severe allergy to fun. His idea of an interview probably includes a desk, studio lighting, one camera angle, and zero smiles.”

  “But who is he? How do”—Nikki motioned at the screen—“two hundred and fourteen thousand of your viewers know enough about him to vote for him?”

  Bex shook her head. “I have no idea. Let’s finish our planning later. You’ve got chicken tikka masala and a sweet husband waiting for you at home, and I have questions for Ian.”

  As she said goodbye to her sister at the front door of the inn that her roommate Addison owned and ran as their apartment, sounds of chatting and smells of something delicious cooking came from the dining hall, so she headed that direction with her laptop.

  All four of her roommates—Peyton, Timini, Addison, and Addison’s brand new husband, Ian—were all either behind the island counter cooking, or sitting on the bar stools chatting. Bex breathed in deeply. “Is that shrimp scampi I smell? And here I was geared up for enchiladas or chicken piccata.”

  Addison grinned at Ian as they stood side by side behind the stove. “It’s one of Ian’s specialties. And it’s not his only fantastic meal, so I won’t have to make one of the only two I can every time it’s my turn to cook.”

  Bex sat down on one of the bar stools and set her laptop on the counter. “I knew it was a good idea to invite him to the roommate dinners.”

  “Because he is a roommate now,” Peyton said.

  “And I’ve enjoyed all four days of it since we’ve been back from our honeymoon,” Ian said, and then gave Addison a kiss on her temple. “But I don’t think I should come to every roommate dinner. Maybe every other time it should just be you four. The original roommates. Then maybe on the other weeks, it can be ‘significant other’ night or something.”

  “Except none of us have significant others,” Timini said. “In fact, we made a pact not to.” She raised an accusing eyebrow at Addison.

  “In my defense, we made that pact when I had just come off a two year relationship and before I realized that trying to resist Ian was pointless.”

  “And when Tim was still getting over her ex,” Bex said, “and Pey had just stopped dating that guy who still shared an address with his mother and I went on like my tenth date in a row with a guy who cried about his recent breakup, but none of us broke the pact.”

  “But when you do,” Addison said, “we will throw you an engagement party every bit as fun as the one you all threw for Ian and me. You’re still planning on convincing Corbin Shields to let you interview him, and then to fall in love with you and marry you and be the father of your children, right?”

  She still couldn’t believe she’d said that, regardless of how late they stayed up or how punch-drunk they were from laughter during their roommate catch-up session last night. “That was the sleep deprivation talking. But besides that, your friend,” she said, jabbing a finger at Ian, “is putting my plan in jeopardy.”

  “My friend? Who? How?”

  “Roman Powell.” She brought her laptop back to life, and then turned the screen toward Ian as everyone leaned in to see it. “Any idea how in the world enough of my viewers even know who he is to have put him on the top of the list? Above Corbin Shields?”

  Ian stared at the screen in confusion for a small moment, then he looked up at the ceiling when whatever it was dawned on him. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe that many people are voting for him.” He took a couple of steps closer and leaned across the counter to get a better look at the laptop. “Whoa. One hundred fifty-eight thousand votes? What I wouldn’t give to be in the room when he saw this. I mean, I wouldn’t
want to be the one to tell him, but man, would I love to see his face.”

  “Why is he on my list, Ian? He runs a small company that makes apps for phones. How do my viewers suddenly know who he is?”

  Ian laughed, shook his head, and then laughed again before going back to the stove to pour the shrimp scampi from the pan into a serving dish. “Before the wedding, he was hyped about an interview he had done with Business Success magazine. They had chosen to feature ten stand-out CEO’s, and they picked him. Then yesterday I got a call from him. The magazine had come out, and, well, it kind of pointed out that he was single and available and at the helm of a business that was going places. And they put him on the cover, looking a little...” Ian shrugged, “…like he was searching for someone to make him no longer single and available.”

  Addison put her hand over her mouth, like she was trying to hide a smile. “Oh my goodness. Oh, I bet he was mad. Can I please be in the room with you, honey, when he finds out about this poll?”

  Peyton furrowed her brow. “Why would that make him mad? I mean, he must’ve looked good and had a great article written about him if that many people want Bex to interview him. That’s exciting and fun! Why would he not think that’s a good thing?”

  “You’ve met the guy,” Bex said. “I don’t think he does ‘exciting and fun.’ What was I thinking, turning the interview choice over to my viewers? If I have to interview Roman, I’m as good as forfeiting my chance at the Eddie Award.”