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Happy for You (Love and Family #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Anyta Sunday

Book Information:

Mort wants his de facto family back. . . .
He knows he doesn’t deserve them. Not yet, anyway. Not without making up for leaving them in their time of need.
But it’s not easy to make amends. Mort must show how much he wants the Rochester family back in his life. When his best friend’s younger brother, Felix, has his license suspended, Mort jumps at the chance to play chauffeur and to win back the family he desperately wants to call his own.
Repairing his broken relationships—with all five Rochester siblings—becomes Mort’s personal mission. Especially with Felix. Felix, who used to follow him everywhere. Felix, who idolized him. Felix, whom Mort has not stopped thinking about . . .

Felix is just trying to keep it together. . . .
With a perma-smile as his armor, he’s determined to make his family happy. Determined to be a positive role model to his three younger sisters, while their mum struggles with depression after her kidney transplant.
Unfortunately, no amount of smiling can save his license when he gets pulled over for the umpteenth time, and he still needs to get his sisters to school, soccer, and dance classes.
The solution to his problem emerges in the return of their prodigal neighbor, Mort. Mort, who left their lives without a word. Mort, who was in love with Felix’s older brother.
Mort, who is the last guy Felix wants charging back into their lives. . . .

Mort and Felix. Two guys bound by a rocky past—
—a past they must come to terms with to find true happiness in the here and now.

~ – ~ – ~

Set in New Zealand, Happy For You (Love & Family #3) is an MM gay romance featuring two guys pitted together in a blue 1988 station wagon — and there’s no doubt about it, Mort is going to drive Felix crazy.
Can be read as a standalone.

Tropes: brother’s best friend, second chances, family drama, friends-to-lovers, slow burn, found family
Genre: New Adult, light-hearted contemporary gay romance
Trigger warnings: Depression and generalized anxiety (of a side character)

Books in Series:

Love and Family Series by Anyta Sunday

Books by Author:

Anyta Sunday Books

Chapter One


These days, I’m always in the groove.

Not enthusiastic footwork in the groove—too uncoordinated for that—nor doing anything exceptionally well in the groove. I’m in The Groove, my ancient 1988 Holden Commodore.

Pimped out with wood paneling and vinyl seats, she was named by my dance-crazy siblings because half the time we’re riding in her, we’re headed to dance classes.

Like Tiffany’s dance class.

Which we should be heading to now.

Where are my sisters?

I honk, lean over the sun-warmed console, and roll down the window.

My home—childhood and current residence—winks in the afternoon sunshine. The vertical red paneling and tin roof create a barn-like effect. Cabbage trees shroud the upper windows, and a well-trod brick path curves through wild lavender. Hills rise behind the house like a cresting wave. Bordered by native bush, a tadpole-infested stream runs through our back yard.

I call out to the girls and Tiffany responds with a muffled, “Coming.”

DJ Dangerfield’s energetic radio voice fills the car. Music always eases the race against time, and if I can coax the girls to sing along, even better.

I’m hoping for some upbeat Pax Polo—

“Yesterday” tinkers softly.

The notes slam memories of him into my chest.

I fumble and change the station, but the song echoes in my head. I tug at my bow tie and work my mouth into a smile. It aches, but at least it’ll look real to my sisters.

Tiffany slides into the passenger seat, her dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun. A rosy flush brightens her gently-freckled cheeks. “The twins are hiding from you,” she murmurs.

She eyes the dashboard clock. Tiffany’s class starts in twenty-five minutes.

Crap. “I’ll be one minute.”

I race inside our house, sneak past Mum asleep in her room, and throw open the door to my nine-year-old sisters’ bedroom.

“Gah. It’s Felix!” April and May are a dark-headed blur as they shove open their window and simultaneously swing their legs over the sill.

“Get back in here.”

They stop. With a gulp, they glance at each other and turn dazzling smiles on me.

I’m not buying it.

I lift a brow. “Butts outside. Tiffany’s waiting.”

Buckled up and rumbling down the road, I eye the twins in the rearview mirror.

May cracks. “If you’re gonna tell us off about the glowworms, we can explain.”

I glance at her identical accomplice. They’re wearing white button-down shirts tucked into jeans, bright green Chucks, and bow ties. They adopted my style last month, and it makes my chest twist every time I see them.

I blink back the rush of mixed feelings and adopt a firm voice. “By all means, explain.”

They blurt out their excuses. “The larvae looked like bioluminescent pearls.”

“We thought they’d look good around mum’s neck. Give her a real glow.”

“Which was why we turned her light out first.”

Tiffany and I exchange disbelieving looks. I say dryly, “Naturally.”

“Of course, that meant we needed flashlights,” May says.

April stares thoughtfully outside. “I guess all the arranging around her neck killed them.”

May hums in agreement. “That, or mum’s scream.”

My sisters’ imagination is frightening—good luck to anyone who breaks their hearts.

I pin them with a prompting look through the rearview mirror. “And . . .”

“We feel sorry?”

I twirl a finger. “Keep going . . .”

“And we’ll keep the light on next time?”

I pinch my nose.

May delivers me a smile that isn’t half as reassuring as she thinks it is. “Okay. You’ll never catch us doing that again.”

They must think I’m an idiot. “Don’t do it again.”

Construction ahead; I ease up on the gas and prepare to merge lanes. The twins’ conspiratorial whispers trail to the front. “Do you think Felix—”

“—would look prince-like with a glowing crown? Hell yes.”

I shake my head, a grin tugging my lips. Mental note: lock my bedroom door at night.

A car careens from behind and overtakes right when it’s my turn to merge. I brake, and Tiffany’s chest bumps the hand I whip out.

“You okay, Tiff?” I check the twins in the mirror. All okay.

Holy crap. What a bastard driver.

“This is why I never want to drive,” Tiffany says.

“Oh, Tiff. Don’t put this on your con list.”

“Well, it’s not going on the pro list.”

Cars zoom past in the single lane, no gap in sight. No one lets us in.

Tiffany sighs. “I’m not going to make it in time.”

A famous international ballroom dancer is running a guest session today—something Tiffany has been looking forward to all month.

“Lauren won’t let him leave without meeting you,” I say softly. “And if he does leave, then I’ll become an internationally famous dancer and give you the lesson myself.”

She snickers.

There’s no making a dancer out of me, let alone an internationally famous one. I’m the only one in our family who didn’t inherit the dancing gene.

Mum tried to teach me the basics, but she gave up when I turned fourteen. Around the time the twins were born. Around the time Dad left us. Around the time I started noticing my brother’s best friend.

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