Is This Love (Everlasting Ink #2) Read Online Kaylee Ryan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Everlasting Ink Series by Kaylee Ryan

Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)

NYT and USA Today Bestselling author Kaylee Ryan brings you the continuation of the stand-alone series surrounding five best friends who co-own a tattoo studio. "Is This Love?” is an age gap, marriage of convenience, friends to lovers, small-town romance.

A marriage of convenience is one thing… but falling for your fake wife is all kinds of complicated.

Being married for a year is the only way to claim my inheritance. I couldn’t care less about the money. It’s not like I even knew my grandparents.

I wasn’t even considering it until Monroe volunteered. Sweet, sweet, Monroe. I’ve never let myself consider her as an option for me.

She’s been tucked safely away in a box labeled forbidden. That is until she takes my last name.

It’s not like I planned to marry one of my friends… or fall for him.

One minute I offer to be his fake wife, and the next, we’re going through the motions— saying, “I do,” and playing house.

Legend is the kind of guy fantasies are made of—tall, dark, and tattooed. Now I’m sharing his bed and his last name for the next year.

Everything looks good on paper, and while this may have started out as playing pretend, the way I feel for him is the realest thing I’ve ever known.

As the weeks pass by, it doesn’t take long before either of us begins to question if we’re just friends or if this is this love after all.

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The warm August sun is setting, casting a soft glow over Mr. and Mrs. Bailey's backyard. Roman has his new wife on his lap with his arms wrapped around her, one hand resting on her belly, and they’re both wearing smiles that are bright enough to light up the darkening night sky.

The wedding ended hours ago, yet we’re still here. We’re a tight-knit group, so hanging out on a Saturday night is nothing new for us. What’s new is the way Roman keeps referring to Emerson as his wife. His parents, as well as Monroe’s, are here as well.

I’m smiling where I’m supposed to be, grinning and sipping on my bottle of beer, but my mind is still on the text message I received from my mom right after the ceremony. Her mother passed away. The grandmother I’ve never met. It’s a long, dramatic story, but the CliffsNotes version is that my mom comes from money. Old money. The kind that takes generations to build. Her parents disapproved of my father. My mother didn’t care. She married him anyway and walked away from the family she was born into for the one she was creating with my dad.

What I don’t understand is why, after thirty-one years, they’re reaching out, and to me? I’ve never met them. I’ve seen pictures and heard stories, but to me, they’re strangers. Strangers who hated my father because of his bank balance. And trust me when I say this, my father is one of the greatest men you will ever meet.

He’s patient and kind, and he loves my mother to the ends of the earth.

When I was younger, I used to get embarrassed by the way he always touched her or was constantly kissing her. Now that I’m older, I understand that the love they share is a bond that can’t be broken. I’ve never known that kind of love. I love my parents and the guys—they’re my brothers—but I’ve never felt that bone-deep intensity that alters my world.

Emerson’s laugh pulls me from my thoughts, and I can’t hide the smile that tilts my lips when I see the look on Roman’s face. He’s watching her as if she hung the moon. That’s how my dad looks at my mom.

That’s genuine romantic love.

I’ve never had it.

I’ve never felt it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t know that it exists. So, yeah, whatever it is, my grandmother felt she needed to say to me after all these years beyond her grave, I don’t give a fuck. She made her choice. She pushed my mother away. I feel sorry for her. She missed out on so many laughs and good times over the last thirty-one years. It’s her loss.

Tossing my warm bottle of beer, I shove my phone into my pocket. I’m having lunch at my parents' place tomorrow. We can figure it out then. For now, it’s time to forget about the text and enjoy the here and now. The people in this backyard, they’re my family. They chose me. And I’ll damn well always choose them.




When I push open the front door of my parents’ place, I hear Mom's laughter. I smile because I’m certain my dad is the reason for that laugh. “Parentals!” I call out. “I’m home.”

It doesn’t matter how old I am, I will forever refer to my parents' house as home. It’s the house I grew up in, the house that holds countless memories. The house with the bedroom upstairs where the guys and I spent hours sneaking a look at the Playboy magazines that were given to us by upperclassmen.

Fun times.

This place will always feel like home to me. Sure, I have my own place. It’s small, just a one-bedroom cottage-type house on the edge of town. I don’t need much space, since it’s just me. It’s also mine. I own it free and clear, but this—the sounds of my mother's laughter, and my father’s deep baritone voice.

This is home.

“In the kitchen, honey!” Mom calls back.

I round the corner and see my mom mixing something in a large bowl while my dad tries to dip his finger in for a taste. “What are you two up to?”

“I’m attempting to make cupcakes, but your dad keeps trying to eat all the batter.” Mom playfully rolls her eyes.

“One small taste.” Dad reaches out again, and Mom smacks his hand away.

“No.” She scolds him like he’s five, and I kid you not, the man juts out his bottom lip in a pout. In turn, Mom pulls open the silverware drawer, grabs a big spoon, and scoops him up a big bite.

“Damn, Dad. She never gave in to me that easily when I tried that growing up.”

Dad wags his eyebrows and opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my hand to stop him.

“Nope. We’re not going there. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”