The Dating Proposal Read online

  The Dating Proposal

  Lauren Blakely

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams. Photography by Wander Aguiar, First Edition, 2019

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy, hilarious romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  * * *

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  * * *

  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  * * *

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  * * *

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  * * *

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  * * *

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed (June 2019)

  Instant Gratification (September 2019)

  * * *

  Standalone

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  Wanderlust

  Part-Time Lover

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Out of Bounds

  Unzipped

  Birthday Suit

  The Dating Proposal (May 2019)

  Never Have I Ever (Fall 2019)

  * * *

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Playing With Her Heart

  * * *

  Stars In Their Eyes Duet

  My Charming Rival

  My Sexy Rival

  * * *

  The No Regrets Series

  The Thrill of It

  The Start of Us

  Every Second With You

  * * *

  The Seductive Nights Series

  First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)

  Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)

  After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)

  One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)

  A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)

  * * *

  The Joy Delivered Duet

  Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)

  Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)

  * * *

  The Sinful Nights Series

  Sweet Sinful Nights

  Sinful Desire

  Sinful Longing

  Sinful Love

  * * *

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)

  * * *

  The Jewel Series

  A two-book sexy contemporary romance series

  The Sapphire Affair

  The Sapphire Heist

  Contents

  About

  Author’s Note

  1. McKenna

  2. McKenna

  3. Chris

  4. McKenna

  5. McKenna

  6. Chris

  7. McKenna

  8. McKenna

  9. Chris

  10. McKenna

  11. McKenna

  12. Chris

  13. Chris

  14. McKenna

  15. McKenna

  16. McKenna

  17. Chris

  18. McKenna

  19. Chris

  20. McKenna

  21. Chris

  22. McKenna

  23. Chris

  24. McKenna

  25. McKenna

  26. Chris

  27. McKenna

  28. Chris

  29. McKenna

  30. Chris

  31. McKenna

  32. Chris

  33. McKenna

  34. Chris

  35. McKenna

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  About

  One woman on a dating quest. One man in need of a relationship guru.

  One wild proposal neither can resist.

  * * *

  Watch out world -- I’m ready to date again.

  * * *

  The seven years I invested in my ex left me with nothing but scorch marks from the way he peeled out and left me at the altar. I’m not looking to put my heart into a relationship any time soon.

  * * *

  What I am looking for? To have some freaking fun. My best friends can’t wait to set me up with suitable single guys, and soon I’ve got three promising prospects. Then I bump into Chris….

  * * *

  Clever and funny, with a sexy surfer’s bod and a brilliant nerd brain, he has just the right screwdriver to fix my hard drive. (Yes, the one for my computer.)

  * * *

  I wouldn’t mind dating him. The trouble is he just proposed to me—to be the new dating guru on his TV show—and I said yes.

  ***

  Don't get your honey where you get your money.

  I’d make a sign or put that mantra on a tattoo, except I’m not likely to forget it, given that the last time I mixed business with pleasure, it almost tanked my career. Now? I play by the book.

  * * *

  That hasn’t been a problem until McKenna. She’s engaging and fun, quick with a snapback or a sensitive, sensible reply—perfect for my TV show. Too bad she’s also perfectly kissable.

  * * *

  But I lock my feelings down. We’ve both worked too hard on our careers to let our connection go further than some sexy banter…and, okay, one impulsive, fantastic kiss—no matter how much our boss, our fans, and our friends propose we make our on-screen chemistry an off-screen romance.

  * * *

  What happens when you meet the right person at the wrong time?

  * * *

  Note: Back in the day, I wrote a book called TROPHY HUSBAND, and though it’s no longer available for sale, the characters of Chris and McKenna seemed to demand another chance in the spotlight. THE DATING PROPOSAL is a complete reimagining
of their romance, with 85 percent brand-new material, a fresh plot, and vastly expanded characterizations so you can come to know and love Chris and McKenna like I do. Enjoy!

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  * * *

  Back in the day, I wrote a book called TROPHY HUSBAND, and though it’s no longer available for sale, the characters of Chris and McKenna seemed to demand another chance in the spotlight. THE DATING PROPOSAL is a complete reimagining of their romance, with 85 percent brand-new material, a fresh plot, and vastly expanded characterizations so you can come to know and love Chris and McKenna like I do. Enjoy!

  * * *

  xoxo

  Lauren

  1

  McKenna

  Today is my anniversary, and I plan to celebrate in style.

  I slide into my favorite skinny jeans, grab my lucky Michael Kors bag, and cinch on a slim rose-gold bracelet my sister gave me.

  Boom. I twirl in front of my roommate. “Everything look good?”

  Ms. Pac-Man raises her snout from her dog bed, one of many in her collection.

  “Can I take that as a fashion hound sign of approval?”

  She wags her fluffy yellow flag of a tail.

  “Excellent. I thought you’d agree.” I bend and give her a kiss on the nose, and she places a big paw on my leg. “Yes, I love you too.”

  And I’m off to a solo Monday breakfast that happens to mark a special occasion.

  I head downstairs to the garage, into the car, and onto the street, driving past a local organic grocery store, a hipster cafe, and a cake shop I believe uses alchemical powers in its batter. One evening many months ago when I was feeling particularly blue, I stumbled in and tried to erase my sorrows with a marble chocolate cake that I was sure would cure my broken heart with its magical elixirs. Alas, the owner handed me a napkin, told me there, there, and said my tears had probably ruined the slice, so I should try another tomorrow when she baked a new cake. On the house.

  You bet your ass I went there the next day for my free sympathy slice. Admittedly, I felt a bit better. Go, cake.

  Today, I’m not crying in my dessert. No chance. No way.

  I’m officially done mourning the death of my almost-marriage.

  As I drive, I turn the radio up louder. I sing along to the music—Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”—as I motor up steep hills then down a roller-coaster dip on my way into Hayes Valley. The station shifts to playing the King, another favorite of this retro music–loving girl, and he’s now crooning “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

  My favorite song ever.

  The song Todd didn’t want to be our wedding song, since he’d insisted on “Have I Told You Lately”—the perfect tune, since that was how he felt about me, he’d claimed.

  And you know what?

  I turn it all the way up and sing along like I’m getting paid.

  He can’t get me down anymore.

  I love this song. It’s mine. It belongs to me and only me now.

  A red Honda scoots out of the prime spot right in front of a restaurant coolly named Madcap, next to the diner where I’m going. As I glide my orange MINI Cooper into the space, I mouth a silent thank you to the parking gods. I happen to have excellent parking karma and my ex has the shittiest, which simply reaffirms my belief in, well, karma.

  Then again, it would be awfully hard to have good karma if you’re, say, the kind of person who dumps your fiancée via voicemail the day before your wedding.

  “Listen, I’ve had a change of heart. I met someone else, and as much as it pains me to do this the day before, well, hey, better than the day after! What do you say we call the whole thing off?” he’d said in his phone message.

  One year later, I’m most decidedly not celebrating the anniversary of our loving union, but I am celebrating this fantastic parking spot. And all things considered, especially given how ridiculously hard it is to find one in this city, I’ll take the sliver of space for my auto, thank you very much.

  I open the door and snatch my bag from the seat. I consider this purse lucky because the same day I bought it, a new investment group contacted me with an offer. And it can’t hurt to have some luck on my side today. When I reach the sidewalk, I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure, a tall, dark-haired man. I don’t know his name, but I see him occasionally, and I think he works at Madcap. Every now and then he’ll say, “Hey there” or “How’s it going?” He’s friendly and has excellent taste in clothes. His charcoal slacks and navy-blue button-down look like they came from Barneys. He’s chatting on his phone, pacing in front of the restaurant. He looks up, notices me, and shoots me a smile.

  It’s kind of sweet and sexy at the same time, and I feel a little flurry of, dare I say, butterflies in my belly.

  That’s interesting. Hmm. I haven’t felt those in a long time.

  And you know what? I welcome their return. Not with a parade or anything grandiose, but maybe a banner and some glitter, and hey, glitter can be cool.

  I give a small smile and head next door to The Best Diner in the City, which I suspect was named for Search Engine Optimization. It also happens to be completely accurate so I come here once a week and have for the last year.

  Dining alone doesn’t hurt anymore, thanks to this self-assigned therapy. I’m a big believer in hoisting yourself up by your garter belt, so I ate here alone the first weekend after the breakup, and then did it again and again until the aching stopped. Even though I’d found this place a few years ago and came here occasionally, Todd never went with me to this diner. He said he didn’t care for cheap, hole-in-the-wall eateries. Fine by me. This diner feels like mine. Gloriously all mine.

  The hostess guides me to one of the last remaining two-tops. I sit and run a hand along the slightly distressed fabric of my skinny jeans. Designer brand at a bargain-basement sale. Another of life’s little wins.

  I order my usual—scrambled eggs and toast, opting for a Diet Coke because it’s a celebration. A minute later, the waitress brings me a can and a glass of ice. I thank her then crack it open, indulging in one of my un-guilty pleasures as I savor the first effervescent burst and the taste of the cold metal on my lips.

  One of the great benefits of dining alone, as I’ve learned, is there’s no one to steal the first sip from me.

  How about that for another win?

  I pour the rest into the glass then reach for my laptop from my bag.

  As I flip open the computer to work on my fashion blog, the waitress guides a gorgeous young redhead over to the table next to me. As if on autopilot, I scan her outfit—sparkling white running shoes with a pink swirly stripe, black workout pants, and a color-coordinated snug workout top—she looks rather peppy.

  She flashes a warm smile. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “This placed is jammed today. Weird for a Monday.”

  “It’s like this every day. The food is amazing.”

  “I’ve heard great things about it. I’m so excited to finally give it a try.”

  Maybe I won’t need the laptop. Perhaps this gal and I will chat for the next thirty minutes, seeing as she’s mighty friendly. “You won’t be disappointed. Everything’s good.”

  “My husband said he’s been wanting to go to this place for the longest time. He’s just out parking the car. We couldn't find a spot nearby.” She tips her forehead to the door.

  I half expected her to say her dad was going to join her because she looks like a teenager. But maybe she was a teenage bride. “Both of you will love it, then. I’m a regular. A devotee, as they say,” I add in a British accent, just for fun.

  She laughs. “What do you recommend?”

  “Anything. Except hard-boiled eggs, because they’re gross.”

  “They’re the most disgusting food ever.”

  I lean closer and say in a conspiratorial whisper, “My ex used to love them. I couldn’t even be in the house when he ate hard-boiled eggs.”

  �
��You want to hear something funny? My husband used to love them too. But I laid down the law. No hard-boiled eggs ever in my home. I cured him of his hard-boiled egg addiction like that.” She snaps her fingers.

  I hold up a hand to high-five her. “You deserve major points.”

  “Oh, look. There he is.” When I turn to follow her gaze, it’s as if I’ve had a pair of cleats jammed into my belly. This is what it feels like when the batter slides into home and you’re the catcher who’s not wearing a chest protector.

  The diner shrinks. The walls close in, gripping me. I can’t breathe. This has to be a mistake. An error.

  Todd’s here.