A Dashwood Of Sense And Sensibility (Love Austen #6) Read Online Anyta Sunday

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Love Austen Series by Anyta Sunday

Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

A Dashwood Of Sense And Sensibility (Love Austen #6)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Anyta Sunday

Book Information:

Two Dashwood brothers. Two dashing romances. Sensible, reasonable, responsible.
Dad has died and left Noah Dashwood his debts. After selling the family home, he and his brother are couchsurfing. The number one new priority? Finding them a new place to live. He has a list of cheap rentals, and he has no problem if sexy and lovely Wade Ferrars wants to help him choose the best option. Wade. He is everything a guy could dream of. He even makes Noah . . . believe in romance.
Except . . . Why does he go hot and cold at an instant? What is he hiding? Clueless, energetic, spontaneous.
Oh God. This is a disaster. No money, no home, no man . . . Zach Dashwood should really, like, get a steady paying job. Help his brother out. Ohhh, maybe he could find something at Ask Austen Studios?
This guy with terrible tie-taste is really something. Working on a Sunday, poor thing. Okay, they should hang out, maybe he’ll put in a good word with the boss—
Oh, he is the boss. Well that’s . . .
To say thanks, Zach will totally find this “Brandon” the girlfriend of his dreams! Two very different brothers. Both in for a surprise.
Books in Series:

Love Austen Series by Anyta Sunday

Books by Author:

Anyta Sunday



When it came to love, Noah Dashwood was practical.

He’d find a nice enough man, settle down.

A sensible approach. Not everyone was destined for a Meet Cute, surges of electricity, knee-buckling laughter that doubled at the first snort. Or missing their partner when they were standing on opposite sides of their own wedding pavilion.

Not six hours married, and his old neighbours Finley and Ethan were just like that. Gazing. Perhaps wishing all their finely dressed, dancing guests would disappear from Mansfield’s back garden so they could get intimate under the pear blossoms.

A vibrant bout of laughter drew Noah’s attention to his rosy-cheeked brother, sliding up beside him. “Dance?”

Zachary—a twenty-two-year-old musician with his first recording under his belt—walked this earth with romantic illusions sparkling in his green eyes.

He held out a hand to Noah, and Noah clasped it tightly. “No one else is biting.”

A good two inches shorter, Noah tilted his head to meet Zach’s distracted gaze as he led his brother into a waltz under the pavilion. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“No one else is biting yet.” Zach said with a sigh, gaze flickering left. “But a happily ever after is out there for you.”

Noah halved the length of their steps. “I have you. I have my work. The sea-bird sanctuary. These guys. I’m happy. Fine. Just fine.”

Zach frowned, focus sharpening. Voice softening. “You’re always just fine. Don’t you ever wish—don’t you ever dream someone amazing will come?”

Dreams like that . . . most often led to dashed expectations. Disappointment.

He cleared his throat. “The only thing I dream about is finding somewhere neat and affordable for us to live.” Elliot and Wentworth had migrated to Wentworth’s boat so their house could accommodate Noah and Zach. They’d been taking up space there while they prepared their childhood home for the day it would cease to be theirs. They couldn’t carry on like that forever.

Again, Zach’s gaze snagged to the left. Noah had been cataloguing these glances.

This time he let himself follow that look, over the boundary fence to where moonlight glittered on the slanted roof of a two storey Victorian, the roses climbing their trellises, and white frames glowing around dark windows, and—

His grip tightened on Zach.

Selling their childhood home was the right—the only—thing to do. Their dad had mortgaged it after their mum passed; he’d spent every last cent. Noah and Zach couldn’t afford to pay off the loans. Not with Dad’s outstanding debts.

They had to be practical.

Even if it meant selling to Francesca, Noah’s former best friend. His former best friend who’d barely acknowledged him for years, since—

Noah squared his shoulders and pushed away the image of her hawkish face—sharp jaw, sharper nose, and pretty curls framing dark, dark eyes. The chill in those eyes.

“I, um, need something from next door,” Zach said lightly, not looking at him.

“We’ve moved everything out. What’s left is Francesca’s.”

“You didn’t pack any of the paintings.”

“They were part of the sale.”

“I only want one.”

He felt Zach’s determination and sighed. “That’s stealing, Zach.”

“Like she’s gonna miss it. There’s dozens of them.”

“Each worth a respectable sum.”

A shrug. “It’s not like it’s one from a collection. It’s our backyard. You and I are in it. You’re a knight, carrying me.”

“They have a list of chattels.”

Finally, Zach met his eyes, pain streaking green with silver. “They’re taking our home.”

Oh, Zach.

Zach turned his face up to the stars; his Adam’s apple jutted. “His dying wish was for me and you to figure out how to keep it. And the first thing we do is sell it to them people.”


“Lemme have this one thing?”

“I’ll draw you a picture of home. Or design another tattoo for us both.”

Zach’s smile wobbled. “That’d be nice, too.”

Too. He wouldn’t give up easily, would he? He’d better not get carried away with whatever plan he was devising. “I’ll negotiate something with Francesca.”

Zach winced. “How can you put yourself through that again?”

I’d do it for you. “We’re all adults. We have to find ways to communicate.”

Zach slipped away, the shifting pool of dancers swallowing him up. Noah shoved a hand through his short hair and counted down nervously from five. Nice as it might be to do whatever one felt like in the moment, it always had consequences in the real world. Mastering his compulsions kept Noah in charge. Confident.

Able to take care of Zach.

Across the dancefloor, Elliot and Wentworth were making heads turn as they spun in wildly romantic circles. Noah smiled, promising himself it wasn’t wistful, as the rain started.

He wiped off a wet tickle over his nose and headed for the champagne. Maybe just one more . . .

He turned, glass in hand, and—

Light bled out from behind the shades of next door’s upstairs window.

Oh, Zachary. Why couldn’t you wait?

Noah had to extract his brother from that house, and without a single possession. Francesca would know. And she had no compassion.