Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Read online

  Mr. Right

  The Complete Series

  Lilian Monroe

  Contents

  Engaged to Mr. Right

  1. Max

  2. Naomi

  3. Max

  4. Naomi

  5. Max

  6. Naomi

  7. Max

  8. Naomi

  9. Max

  10. Naomi

  11. Max

  12. Naomi

  13. Max

  14. Naomi

  15. Max

  16. Naomi

  17. Max

  18. Naomi

  19. Max

  20. Naomi

  21. Max

  22. Naomi

  23. Max

  24. Naomi

  25. Max

  26. Naomi

  27. Max

  28. Naomi

  29. Max

  30. Naomi

  31. Max

  32. Naomi

  33. Max

  34. Naomi

  35. Max

  36. Naomi

  37. Max

  38. Naomi

  39. Max

  40. Naomi

  Epilogue

  Engaged to Mr. Wrong

  1. Farrah

  2. Jesse

  3. Farrah

  4. Jesse

  5. Farrah

  6. Jesse

  7. Farrah

  8. Jesse

  9. Farrah

  10. Jesse

  11. Farrah

  12. Jesse

  13. Farrah

  14. Jesse

  15. Farrah

  16. Jesse

  17. Farrah

  18. Jesse

  19. Farrah

  20. Jesse

  21. Farrah

  22. Jesse

  23. Farrah

  24. Jesse

  25. Farrah

  26. Jesse

  27. Farrah

  28. Jesse

  29. Farrah

  30. Jesse

  31. Farrah

  32. Jesse

  33. Farrah

  34. Jesse

  Epilogue

  Engaged to Mr. Perfect

  1. Meghan

  2. Meghan

  3. Andrew

  4. Meghan

  5. Andrew

  6. Meghan

  7. Andrew

  8. Meghan

  9. Andrew

  10. Meghan

  11. Andrew

  12. Meghan

  13. Andrew

  14. Meghan

  15. Andrew

  16. Meghan

  17. Andrew

  18. Meghan

  19. Andrew

  20. Meghan

  21. Andrew

  22. Meghan

  23. Andrew

  24. Meghan

  25. Andrew

  26. Meghan

  27. Andrew

  28. Meghan

  29. Andrew

  30. Meghan

  31. Andrew

  32. Meghan

  33. Andrew

  34. Meghan

  35. Andrew

  36. Meghan

  37. Andrew

  Epilogue

  Knocked Up: The Complete Series

  1. Harper

  2. Zach

  3. Harper

  Also by Lilian Monroe

  Copyright © 2019 Lilian Monroe All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author except for short quotations used for the purpose of reviews.

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  xox Lilian

  www.lilianmonroe.com

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  Engaged to Mr. Right

  The Mr. Right Series: Book 1

  1

  Max

  I take a deep breath before I squat down. I brace myself for the inevitable burning daggers of pain that will go through my knee when it bends. I know they’re coming. A bead of sweat dribbles between my shoulder blades, and I try not to let my apprehension show on my face.

  My pretty, sympathetic physical therapist is watching me. Naomi’s big green eyes are glued on my knees, and her eyebrows are pulled ever so slightly together. The alabaster skin on her forehead, usually so smooth, is ever so slightly creased as she watches me.

  A second ticks by and her sharp, green eyes flick up to mine. I can see the patient encouragement in her face.

  Whenever you’re ready, she’s saying. I don’t feel ready. I blink, blowing the air out of my nostrils.

  I guess I’d better go for it.

  Ready for the pain, I bend at the knees and start squatting. My joints bend, my ankles flex, and the bead of sweat makes its way down my spine toward the waistband of my athletic shorts.

  Down I go, deeper and deeper into my squat. I’m holding my breath, ready for the moment when the knee flexion will reach the point of agony.

  Before I know it, I’m in a full squat. Naomi’s face breaks into a huge smile and my heart flips. My eyes widen and she starts laughing.

  “Good work, Max!” She says, reaching her arms out toward me. I grab her hands, using her support to come back up.

  “What…?” I can’t even finish my sentence. I bend down again, holding onto her hands and squatting almost down to the floor. I spring back up, my jaw hanging open. “There’s no pain!”

  Naomi pulls her hands from mine and claps excitedly. I smile despite myself. There’s a slight tingling in my fingers where they were touching hers, but I try to ignore it. She looks like she’s almost happy enough to jump up and down.

  The sun is shining through the window, making her red hair look like it’s made of pure fire. It’s pulled back from her face in a high pony tail, setting off the soft angles of her face. For a moment, I wonder what it would look like if her hair tumbled down around her face.

  “You’ve made such great progress,” she exclaims. “You’ve been doing your exercises, haven’t you?”

  “I have, actually,” I say, surprised.

  “I can tell. I’m like a dentist who always knows whether or not you’ve been flossing,” she laughs.

  I grin, bending my knee with wonder. When I started seeing Naomi three months ago, I thought it would be just another waste of time and money. Unexpectedly, she’s guided me through a new, comprehensive physical therapy plan and now my knee is finally starting to feel normal again.

  It hasn’t felt this good since before the injury happened. That was almost four years ago, but it feels like it happened yesterday. The pain in my knee is a constant reminder of what I lost.

  One bad tackle during my college football championship and I lost everything. I lost my football career, I lost my girlfriend, I lost my identity. I went from star quarterback, drafted to the NFL, to a washed-up nobody with a sore knee.

  Every ligament in my knee was torn when I was tackled that day, but it was more than a knee joint that was ruined. It was my life.

  And now, as pathetic as it feels to be proud of squatting down without pain, it actually feels good. Naomi is beaming, and I feel proud. I feel like myself again.

  “Good,” she says. “Hop up here.” She pats the massage table beside us, kicking the step-stool toward it. I use the stool to sit on the table, swinging my legs up to lie down.

  My eyes follow her, and I notice the way her blue, shapeless polo shirt clings to her curves. It has the words ‘PhysioFIT’ across the back. She bends down to
pick up a long rubber loop, stringing it over a hook on the wall. Her yoga pants make her ass look perfectly perky.

  I noticed how attractive she was during our first appointment, but suddenly it feels like my body has woken up from a long slumber. Watching her move is sending blood to parts of my body that should not have blood rushing to them right now.

  Maybe I was too focused on the pain in my knee, or too focused on the fact that my injury would never get better for my body to react to her attractiveness. She turns back toward me and nods to the table.

  I know the drill. I lie on my back as Naomi stands beside me. I wish I was wearing something with a bit more coverage than these loose athletic shorts.

  “So how’s work going?” She grabs my ankle and bends my leg as I stare at the ceiling. She’s gentle but pushes me at the same time, moving my knee back toward my chest until I start to feel the first twinges of pain.

  “It’s fine,” I respond through gritted teeth. Naomi straightens my leg again.

  “Yeah?” She bends my knee again, straightening it up in the air and hooking it onto her shoulder. She places her hand on the table next to my chest and curls her other arm around my leg. She leans forward, bracing herself against me as she stretches my leg up toward the ceiling. A strand of hair falls across her forehead.

  Her lips are full and pink, and they’re stretched in a determined line. I groan as she stretches me, trying to ignore the heat that’s spreading through my stomach.

  Why am I turned on right now?

  I mean, I know why. I mean why right now?

  I stare at the ceiling again, shifting all my attention to memorize the shape of a water stain on one of the ceiling tiles.

  “Yeah, work’s good,” I finally respond. “We just landed a big contract with the government.”

  “The one you told me about a couple weeks ago?” She asks, her hand drifting down to the crook of my hip as she stretches my leg up further. I try to ignore the thought of her slender, soft fingers so close to my crotch.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, that one. It took a long time to get past all the approvals and red tape, but they’ve agreed to let us supply the materials for one of their big construction projects down the coast.”

  “That’s great!” Naomi answers, dropping my leg down. “On your stomach.”

  I turn on my stomach and my heart starts thumping because I know what’s coming. I hear her squirt some oil onto her hands and I’m grateful that I’ve turned around. At least if my body decides to…misbehave… it’ll be hidden against the massage table.

  When her oiled hands touch my leg, I forget what I was saying. It’s simultaneously painful and exciting as she kneads my hamstring and around my knee. How have I never felt like this before? I’ve never even thought of Naomi this way. She was just one of the many members of the team that are supposed to get my knee back to normal.

  But right now, as her hands move further up my leg, this feels very different from the other times.

  Maybe it’s because the shooting pain that’s usually associated with these physical therapy massages isn’t there today.

  “How does that feel?” Naomi asks as if she can read my mind. “You’re not complaining as much as usual.”

  I can hear the grin in her voice. “Complaining!” I say, turning my head to catch her eye.

  She’s laughing to herself, kneading my hamstring a little bit harder as I yelp.

  “You did that on purpose.” There’s a gleam in her eye when she glances at me, and a shiver passes through me.

  “I’m just trying to get you better, Mr. Westbrook,” she retorts. “I’m glad to see you’re improving.”

  “You’re going to injure me again with those hands of yours,” I grumble. But she won’t. I love what her hands are doing to me.

  I love it a lot… maybe too much. My heart thumps.

  What is going on?

  Her hands move over my shorts and she starts digging her elbow into my ass. I groan.

  “Your glutes are still tight,” she remarks. “Have you been using the ball I gave you?”

  “It’s too painful,” I whine. I know I sound like a child, but I can’t help it.

  “You need to loosen your glutes up, Max,” she reproaches. “Right here,” she notes, poking the side of my ass. “This muscle is pulling along here,” her hand drifts along the side of my leg toward my knee.

  My cock pulses, and my heart races.

  Thank fuck I’m laying on my stomach.

  Naomi doesn’t seem to notice. “If you don’t loosen that up, it’ll keep pulling sideways at your knee and it’ll be difficult to get the right alignment in your knee joint. It’s important.”

  “Right,” I groan as she digs her elbow back in my ass.

  “It’s very common when people have had a total ACL and MCL reconstruction. We need to make sure everything aligns properly for you to heal.”

  “I thought I was making good progress,” I grumble, turning my head again to look at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me how great I’m doing?”

  She stops massaging me, putting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m supposed to be getting you better, Max. I’m not going to tell you what you want to hear just to make you happy. Five minutes with the ball. Loosen your glutes up every morning like I showed you.”

  There’s a gleam in her eye, and her lip quirks up a tiny bit.

  “If you don’t like it, find another physio. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “No,” I respond. “I think I’ll stick with you. You’ve got those great sharp elbows,” I groan as she goes back to work on my glutes.

  Naomi laughs. She works on the other side of my body, and after a few minutes she finally pats my leg.

  “Your torture is over, Max. Good work today.”

  I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the massage table. I try not to stare at the curve of her hip, or the way her yoga pants are stretched across her ass.

  She turns back to me and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling.

  “See you next week! You need any help getting out?”

  I shake my head, grunting. “I’m good. See you next week.”

  I watch her walk toward her office, hypnotized by the movement of her ass from side to side with every step. When she finally moves out of view, I shake my head and grab my stuff, heading toward the locker rooms.

  Once I’m dressed for work, I put my tie on in the mirror, staring at myself for a few seconds. I shake my head. I need to get it together. Naomi is the best physical therapist I’ve had. I had the second operation on my knee two years ago, and this is the best I’ve felt since I was in college.

  I can’t—no, I won’t—mess it up by hitting on her. There are plenty of other women to chase.

  I bend my knee, waiting for the familiar crackles and pops that usually accompany any movement. There aren’t any, and I take a deep breath.

  I definitely can’t mess this up. As attractive as she is, I need to think about my knee.

  For the first time since the injury happened and my football career ended, I actually feel like myself again.

  2

  Naomi

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I am not!” I turn away from Meghan as my cheeks start to burn. I know I’m red—I can feel the blush creeping up my neck and covering my cheeks. Even my ears feel hot. I probably look like a Christmas bulb right now.

  “You are so blushing right now.”

  Her dark eyebrow arches gracefully as she watches me. I roll my eyes.

  “What if I am?”

  “He’s a player,” she says, glancing toward the front door. “Max Westbrook is in the tabloids every second day. Do you know he left his fiancée at the altar? Literally at the altar. He just didn’t show up.”

  “Poor woman,” I reply, shaking my head. “That must have been mortifying.”

  “You can say that again,” Meghan grumbles, turning to face m
e. She leans her tall, slender body against her desk as I start wrapping up some resistance bands to put them away.

  “So what’s going on between you two, anyway? There was lots of laughing going on for a simple physio session.”

  “What, I’m not allowed to enjoy my job?”

  “Not that much,” she retorts, grinning.

  I try to swallow back the blush that threatens to light up my face again. I shake my head. “He’s making good progress, and I’m happy about it. When he first came in here he could hardly bend his knee. Now he’s squatting with no pain!”