EveryDayLove!: A MyHeartChannel Romance Read online

  EveryDayGlam!

  A MyHeartChannel Romance

  Lucy McConnell

  Orchard View Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Lucy McConnell

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  If you like the latest news on Lucy McConnell’s new releases, please sign up for her newsletter:

  https://mybookcave.com/d/290d4f96/

  Contents

  EveryDayGlam!

  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

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Now Available from Bestselling and Award-Winning Author Lucy McConnell

  About the Author

  EveryDayGlam!

  Chapter One

  “Shh. Daisy’s sleeping.”

  Beckett slapped his hand over the many straps, keys, and boondoggles hanging off his bag to keep them from clanging. He hadn’t noticed the noise in the busy airport terminal, nor in the driveway with the big open sky to absorb sound. But inside the modest two-story home with hardwood floors throughout and nine-foot ceilings, the pack sounded like a Goonies booby trap. “Sorry,” he stage-whispered to Quinton, his childhood best friend, who still had red hair and freckles. “Is she sick?” Though it was dark outside, his phone had auto adjusted to the local time and said 8:32 p.m.

  “No. She has to get up early for work.”

  Quinton chucked his shoes by the front door and led Beckett into the living room. A couple of lamps cast soft light over the room, revealing teal walls, white furniture, and modern fixtures with gray accents. The throw pillows had funky zigzags and the carpet had polka dots. Not exactly what Beckett expected from a confirmed bachelor. Then again, Daisy lived here too. That alone explained everything from the fur throw to the “Be Great at What You Do” sign on the far wall. Pictures of their power-couple parents on a beach somewhere—make that beaches, since the water was blue in one picture and green in another—and of the four of them at Disney when the kids were in grade school adorned the gas fireplace mantel.

  “Daisy works?” Beckett scratched his head. Quinton’s little sister was a heart-faced doll, but while Quinton and Beckett slaved the summers away mowing lawns and cleaning pools, she’d played with makeup, hairstyles, and her video camera.

  “She’s legit grown-up.” Quinton disappeared down the hallway and came back with an armful of sheets, pillows, and blankets in shades of white and gray, which he dumped on a chair. “You tired?”

  The thirteen-hour plane ride, coupled with two layovers and airport food, weighed heavier than Beckett’s pack—and his pack held everything he owned except for a pair of socks and a package of underwear they’d stopped for on the way home. He’d given away his clothes, save the ones on his back, before boarding the plane—the underwear he just threw out because no one should be forced to wear that stuff. His mouth was constantly full of cotton, his sinuses screamed from the dry air, and the bottoms of his feet were numb. “Exhausted.”

  “I thought so. You look like crap.” Quinton squinted at him. “What’s with the man bun anyway?”

  Beckett chuckled lightly. Quinton could get away with saying just about anything. Not only was he a loyal friend; he’d taken Beckett in at the last second—saving him from sleeping on the airport tiles when his flight was delayed until tomorrow morning. On the way to his house, Quinton talked him into skipping the flight in the morning and staying until his next assignment came through. “It’s easier than getting a haircut.”

  Quinton leveled him with a look. “Don’t let your dad hear you take the lazy way out.”

  Beckett didn’t need a reminder of what a hardnose his dad was—no one who met Kevin Kingsley needed a reminder. “Didn’t you hear? I’m the golden boy now. Dad is all over the FreeWater project—I can do no wrong.” Sarcasm dripped from Beckett’s words like honey off warm toast. His stomach growled. When he weighed his needs, a shower and sleep were higher on the list than food—he was that tired.

  “And I thought Amber was the favorite for giving him progeny.” Quinton slipped a fluffy pillow into a pillowcase.

  The smell of lavender laundry softener overwhelmed Beckett—he hadn’t smelled anything so clean in a long time. It didn’t quite smell like home, but it was a reminder of all the comforts he’d left behind when he chased his dream. Since he’d left right after graduation, he didn’t have the training to engineer the wells, nor did he have the political connections to get FreeWater representatives across borders. What he did have was an ability to work with people. He was the one FreeWater sent into remote areas to get the work done. He’d make friends with tribe leaders, chiefs, kings and queens, and orphan children. It wasn’t always easy to get them to trust an outsider, but he believed in FreeWater’s mission.

  “Amber took front row when she had Kevin Jr., and she scored extra points naming after Dad. At least I’m no longer the family embarrassment.” There was a heavy pause in the conversation as Quinton laid a sheet over the white leather couch. Beckett bit his tongue. His social skills were rusty.

  “Okay, kitchen’s through there. On the other side is the laundry room.” Quinton pointed behind the couch, where a gray countertop gleamed and shiny appliances hummed. “Bathroom is down this hall. My room’s on the left and Daisy’s is on the right. Do not wake her up! She’s a tyrant about her beauty sleep.” He fished a Post-it out of his back pocket and handed it over. “This is the Wi-Fi password. I have to run back to the clinic and check on a cat that had surgery today. Make yourself at home.”

  Beckett hated pulling Quinton away from his thriving veterinary practice to pick him up from the airport. The fact that he came without so much as a peep about the inconvenience attested to his loyalty. “Thanks again for letting me crash here. It should only be for a couple days.”

  Quinton broke into a smile that reminded Beckett of the carefree days when they would zoom through the neighborhood on their bikes and tease Daisy with the frogs and spiders they’d caught. “It’s good to have you. It’s been … too long.” They exchanged a man hug, complete with heavy poundings on one another’s backs.

  With Quinton gone, Beckett sorted through the plastic bag for a new pair of underwear. He glanced down the hall to where two bedroom doors were shut and the bathroom hung open.

  Daisy was down there.

  He glanced at the boxer-briefs in his hand and then towards the laundry room. His clothes needed a good washing. Who was he kidding? They needed to be burned. But they were all he had until he got some sleep and could see colors again. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and pushed against the desire to flop onto the couch and disappear into dreamland. He’d be a horrible guest if he slept in those white sheets with this much airport grime
on his skin.

  He made his way to the washing machine and stripped down to his underwear in the semi dark, praying Daisy wouldn’t need a glass of water at this inopportune time. Being in the States was already changing his state of mind. In the last village he was in, kids up to the age of twelve ran around without any clothes on at all. The chief maintained his dignity in a simple loincloth. No one would have given his a second glance if he’d run around in his underwear. He hadn’t—he’d worn cargo shorts, though he often shucked his shirt. The heat was too much and he’s become slick with sweat as he worked. Sliding away from the memories, he dumped in the soap and started the machine, impressed by how quiet it ran.

  Moving with the stealth of a cat burglar, he managed to get to the bathroom and lock the door. A quick shower and a mad dash to the couch had him tucked safely under the blankets. The hot water had been heavenly. He really missed warm showers.

  The couch was softer than the three-bar cot he’d slept on for the last eight weeks and the pillow was like a marshmallow, firm and soft all at the same time. He sighed, letting all the tight places that had accumulated go slack. His back and neck would be sore now that he no longer clenched up before sleeping, but that was normal.

  His thoughts drifted to Daisy sleeping down the hall. He’d teased her more than he should have growing up. Truth be told, he thought about her a lot when he was alone in a new place. Something about her wholesomeness comforted him.

  She was such a cute little thing with her red hair and fair skin, full cheeks and a few freckles. There was a dark freckle on her chin where the classic movie stars used to place beauty marks. Maybe that’s what inspired her to start the silly beauty channel she’d obsessed over.

  He wondered if she was still that innocent and sweet girl or if all the attention she paid to makeup and beauty tips had turned her into a self-centered brat. Probably the latter. No one could spend that much time watching themselves on camera and not think the world revolved around them.

  The last night he’d spent with the Covington family had been her sixteenth birthday party. She’d curled her hair like Taylor Swift’s on the front of her “Beautiful Eyes” album and it hung loose and free—tempting him to bury his fingers in all those curls.

  He threw his arm over his eyes. Why did he remember that? He took a deep breath and felt his bio waves slowing down. He couldn’t get the image of Daisy’s mop of curls out of his head. He hoped she hadn’t cut off her hair. That would be a real crime. His thoughts meddled with his dreams and he could feel the soft tresses between his fingertips. A contented sigh escaped his lips and the jet lag took over.

  Chapter Two

  EveryDayGlam!! Beauty Tip

  Coconut Hair Mask

  1 egg, beaten

  ¼ cup olive oil

  1 tablespoon coconut oil, melted

  Beat together in a small bowl. Using a brush that you would use to apply hair color. Paint the egg product near the scalp and then spread it to the ends of your hair. Twist your hair up and close to the scalp and secure with a clip. Wrap your hair in plastic wrap and let sit for 4 to 6 hours. Wash, condition, and style as normal.

  “Okay, friends, so as you can see, I have wrapped my hair in plastic wrap.” Daisy twisted to both sides, keeping her eyes on the camera lens as she did so. This kept her nose from lifting in the air as she turned, and the last thing she wanted to do was look like a snob in front of her 11 million subscribers.

  Brittany Rothchild, her rival for top MyHeartChannel beauty channel, trolled her comments section regularly. Her comments started all-out wars with Daisy’s subscribers over product selection and brush usage, not to mention the nasty things she said about Daisy herself. According to Brittany, Daisy’s hair was too brassy, her nose was too pert, and her eyes were as dull as what comes out of the backside of a horse.

  Of course, Daisy couldn’t prove that it was Brittany who left those comments, not without a warrant to get her IP address. Mark, Daisy’s lawyer, was on standby to file a libel suit, but Daisy didn’t want to take part in a battle she didn’t start. Brittany could do whatever she wanted on her channel. As far as Daisy was concerned, there was enough success out there for both of them, and wasting her time trying to spread poison wouldn’t do her, or her subscription rate, any good.

  Daisy had dealt with trolls since her first MyHeartChannel post. This was no different. Except that she was hyper aware of her image right now, because she was being considered by KPaka Makeup Company for her own line of all-natural beauty products. Ever since she was a teen with acne and a struggling channel, she’d dreamed of having her own eye shadows, blushes, foundations, brushes, creams, and lipsticks—oh, the lipsticks! She knew how to have a successful MyHeartChannel, but putting together suppliers and manufacturers was like going to the moon. She needed KPaka to make her dream a reality. Building a popular channel was just the first step, and it’d taken ten years to attract enough subscribers to get KPaka’s attention.

  Thinking of all the amazing people who watched and commented positively on every episode, she smiled as if they were right in front of her. “I’m going to leave this in my hair for four hours and then I’ll be back to let you know how it turns out.” She gave a happy little wave to the camera and shut it off.

  She scratched her neck only to come up with fingers full of egg and oil. A warm trickle ran down her temple, and she swiped it quickly away with the back of her hand. “Ew.” At this rate, her post would be a commercial for salmonella. She wiped her hands on the towel she’d placed in her lap to catch drips as she applied the hair mask. The plastic wrap was supposed to keep all this on her hair and it wasn’t working.

  … Now what?

  She turned the camera back on. “Hi, friends. It appears that the plastic wrap isn’t oil tight.” She swiped at her forehead and brought her fingers to the camera to show viewers the oils. “I could take it off and use an old T-shirt instead of the plastic, but the plastic is holding in heat, which helps the hair to absorb all those wonderful natural proteins and nutrients from the egg and oil.

  “I’ve got to come up with something to keep the oil from dripping into my eyes and down the back of my neck. I thought about a pillowcase, but I’d need to cut it and finish the edges so it didn’t unravel.” She bit her lip and looked up, mentally running through the kitchen and the linen closet. The whole idea behind this post was to use household items to repair damaged hair. She needed to come up with something—fast.

  “I’m going to go in search and I’ll be back to let you know what I’ve found.”

  She clicked the camera off again and sighed. It was six in the morning. While she’d been filming for over an hour, Quinton was undoubtedly asleep, which meant her pillaging was limited and must be done with stealth.

  Of course, she wouldn’t have to film so early in the morning if Quinton hadn’t needed a place to stay. He’d used student loans to get through vet school and had taken out a substantial loan to start his clinic. Eventually, he would build onto the clinic and live there, but for now, he wanted to sink everything he made into becoming debt free. Which meant he slept in her studio turned spare bedroom and she filmed in her north-facing bedroom, where light poured in through the bank of windows all the livelong day.

  She quietly opened her bedroom door, the plastic wrap crinkling as she poked her head into the hallway. Quinton’s door was shut tight and she let out a sigh of relief. Plodding quietly down the hall in her bare feet, she came up short when she saw an arm hanging over the end of the couch. A strong arm. An arm with dark hair that was most definitely not her brother’s coppery-colored fuzz. She gulped back a scream.

  Okay, those are my sheets and pillows, so obviously Quinton knows he’s here.

  Her heart beating wildly, she turned her head to glance at Quinton’s door. Crinkle-crinkle went the plastic wrap. She cringed at the noise. Wood floors were beautiful, but they did nothing—NOTHING—to absorb even the smallest sound. She cursed herself for falling into the sale
s pitch of easy to clean and durable. She’d give anything for wall-to-wall carpet right now. The carpet guy should have brought up the fact that one day she would want to sneak around her own house so as not to wake a sleeping stranger. Hello! She totally would have gone for the Three Bears sales pitch.

  Daisy crept closer, her hand pressed over her mouth to muffle her breathing, which sounded like a car speeding through a tunnel. Slowly, the top of a head came into view. Brown hair with a slight wave. Long. Much too long and unkempt, but clean. Next came a deeply tanned face shrouded in a beard. She couldn’t make out his features, standing behind him as she was. Two more caterpillar steps and she had full view of a tanned and toned bare chest.

  Daisy stopped breathing all together as she stared at the wonderfully shaped man on her couch. He wasn’t cut or chiseled, but he was fit and he had a nice upper body and a flat stomach. He shifted, his bare leg sliding out from under the blanket.

  She gasped. Was he naked? On her couch? Who …?

  Ready to shake him awake and kick him to the curb, she moved around the couch, not even caring that her head continued to crinkle like some bizarre cone-head alien.

  She leaned down to poke his shoulder, two fingers at the ready, and paused within a cat’s whisker of touching his skin. The man may have a mane of hair and a beard to match, but there was no mistaking Beckett Kingsley. Her brain took a moment to reboot as she stared down at the face of her brother’s best friend. When it was back up and running, her memory bank released a hard drive full of memories.