Falling for Sunshine: Marriage Material, #3

By Cassie Beebe

Can a sunny optimist melt the heart of a jaded cynic? Find out in this season of Marriage Material.

 

Daisy is about to take center stage as the radiant Leading Lady on the next season of Marriage Material. After a disappointing stint as a contestant, she's ready to lead the pack and date twenty men simultaneously, hoping to find her true love among them. With her infectious positivity and unwavering spirit, she's determined not to come away from this season empty-handed.

 

Jack's heart bears the scars of past heartbreak, leaving him wary of romance's sweet illusions. Pushed into the spotlight by his insistent brother, he reluctantly joins the cast of Marriage Material. His goal: to endure the show's chaos for at least two weeks, so he can earn his brother's bribe and come home to an expensive new addition to his precious gun collection.

 

As the cameras roll, Daisy's sunny disposition collides with Jack's cynicism. But amidst orchestrated dates, genuine connections start to flourish. Can Daisy's relentless optimism breach the walls guarding Jack's heart, showing him that love is worth the risk?

 

***
 

Falling for Sunshine is the third book in a series of standalone sweet romance novels that all take place on the set of Marriage Material. It can be read alone or as part of the series.

The Marriage Material series is sweet/clean romance. There will be no sex on the page and no profanity in this series (the word "crap" is as far as foul language will go). Falling for Sunshine features mentions of domestic violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassie Beebe
• Release date: Feb 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224423880

Book preview

One

JACK

The pale blue Ford F-150 in my driveway tells me my plans for the day are about to change.

I let out a deep sigh as I park beside my brother’s truck. Grabbing the grocery bag and stack of mail from the passenger seat, I step out of my own truck and head for the front door.

I was really banking on not having to see any people today. Even swinging by the grocery store and the post office to grab a few necessities and check my long-neglected P.O. box was more socialization than I wanted this weekend. But when I step through the door to my own house, two booming voices sound from the living room.

Charlie doesn’t greet me at the door, which means Uncle Will must have brought her a treat that requires her full attention. Tossing the mail and grocery bag on the kitchen counter, I round the corner to see my brother and best friend sitting on my couch, game controllers in hand and open beers on the coffee table in front of them. And sure enough, Charlie’s on her bed in the corner of the room, gnawing on a fresh rawhide bone.

By all means, make yourselves at home, I say as I lean against the door frame.

Nate barks a laugh. Always do.

His eyes don’t leave the TV screen as he works his controller, but Will looks up as soon as he sees me.

Hey, bro, he says, setting his controller down and taking a swig of his—my beer.

What are you doing here?

His eyebrows go up at my tone. We were gonna see if you wanted to go to lunch, but you weren’t home.

So you decided to punish me by breaking in and stealing my beer? I ask.

He shrugs. Figured we’d wait a bit, see if you came home soon.

I sigh. Well, I’m home. And no, I don’t want to go to lunch.

Turning my back to him, I return to the kitchen to put away the food I just bought. A few minutes pass, and Will comes into the room, Nate following close behind. They both look at me with grave expressions, and I suppress another sigh. This is exactly what I didn’t want today.

All right, I say, shutting the fridge and shoving the empty grocery bag in the cabinet under the sink. Say whatever you came here to say.

They exchange a wary look, and as usual, my brother is the first to speak up.

We’re worried about you, he says for the millionth time.

I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the stack of mail on the counter.

We just want to make sure you’re okay, Nate chimes in.

I’m okay, I reply immediately.

They share another look.

Are you? Will asks. Because it doesn’t look like it.

His eyes shift around the room, and I follow his gaze, seeing the space through his perspective.

Okay, sure. It’s been a while since I’ve cleaned the house. Or myself. Or the sweatpants I’ve been living in for the past . . . certain number of weeks. But I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, what is grabbing a burger with them going to do to fix it?

I’m cleaning the house this weekend, I tell him. In fact, I was just about to get started on that, so unless you want to grab a pair of gloves and join me, maybe you two should head out.

The look on Will’s face tells me he hasn’t bought the lie. I turn my eyes back to the mail, ripping up all of the advertising junk. I stop when I get to a thick envelope addressed from some company called Marriage Material. Seriously? I’ve been single for less than a year, and dating companies are already trying to sucker me into buying their services?

I shake my head, about to rip the letter in half. But it’s thicker than your standard junk mail. Out of mild curiosity, I start to rip open the top of the envelope.

I’ve barely gotten it halfway open before Will lets out a curse.

I look up at him, and he’s staring down at the envelope in my hands, eyes wide.

Is that what I think it is? Nate asks him.

Will curses again, slapping his palms to his face.

You didn’t tell him?

I completely forgot, Will says, his voice muffled from behind his hands.

Nate’s jaw drops. How could you forget?

Can someone please tell me what the heck is going on? I demand.

Will drops his hands and lets out a breath. Nate takes a few steps back, like he doesn’t want to have any part in this conversation.

Okay . . . do you remember when we got rained-out on our hunting trip and decided to stay the night at that lodge? We were all drinking, and that stupid reality dating show came on TV?

I wrack my brain for any memory of this event, but nothing comes to mind.

No, I answer.

Of course he doesn’t remember, Nate says. It was right after Quinn. He was plastered.

Now that he mentions the timeline, I do have a vague memory of staying in a lodge with some of the guys after a hunting trip. But Nate’s right. Most of those post-Quinn weeks passed by in a boozy haze. I have no idea what reality show they’re talking about.

Well, we started watching it, and you went to bed early, Will continues. And . . . one thing led to another, and we sort of decided to put your name in the running.

I stare at him. For what? To be on the show?

He glances at Nate, then nods.

I chuckle, tossing the envelope on top of the rest of the junk mail. You guys are idiots, I say, heading for the fridge to grab a beer. If there are any left.

We thought it would be funny, Nate says. And hey, who wouldn’t wanna have a bunch of hot chicks vying for their attention all summer long?

Grabbing the last can of Heineken from the fridge, I cringe at the thought of that. Vapid, attention-seeking women hanging all over me, trying to get their five minutes of fame? Maybe Nate would enjoy that, but I can’t see the appeal.

But apparently that’s not how it works, Will explains. Sometimes it’s one woman and a bunch of guys. And . . . well, I guess they liked the application we sent in for you, because they accepted you.

Is that what this is? I ask, taking a swig of my drink and grabbing the envelope from the counter again. My acceptance letter?

Um . . . not exactly, Will says.

He looks to Nate for help, but Nate shakes his head.

Don’t look at me. This was all you.

My brother bites his lip and swallows hard.

Will, I say, urging him to continue.

He looks at me, shifting on his feet. It was just supposed to be a dumb joke at first. But . . . when they accepted your application, I started to think about it, and I realized this might actually be good for you.

I scoff. You can’t be serious.

"I am serious, Jack, he says in his serious voice. When I meet his eyes, I can almost feel the words that are coming next, but I don’t know what to say to stop them. Ever since Quinn . . ."

My teeth instinctively start to gnaw on the inside of my mouth. I turn my eyes to the beer can in my hands, twisting the tab with my thumb.

Look . . . Will pauses, letting out a deep breath. All I’m saying is that I’m worried about you, okay? We all are.

I look at Nate, daring him to chime in.

He gives me a shrug and a nod. You haven’t been yourself since . . . He trails off, not wanting to say the name again. You’re always moping and brooding. It’s bumming everyone out.

I huff a sigh. I’m fine.

You’re not fine, Will counters.

When I meet his gaze, I can’t manage to argue with him. We both know I’m full of crap. What’s the point in pretending?

And, what, you think a reality dating show will fix that? I try instead.

He shrugs. I think it could get you out of your head for a while. Back in the game.

What game? The dating game? I shake my head. No. I’m done with that stuff.

Nate gives Will a pointed look. You gonna tell him what’s in that envelope?

Will shifts nervously on his feet.

The look of fear on my brother’s face makes my stomach twist. I set down my beer and rip open the envelope, pulling out its contents. A stack of papers that includes a flight itinerary dated for tomorrow morning.

What is this? I demand from Will.

He takes in a shaky breath. I . . . I accepted the offer. For you to go on the show, he admits. I put my phone number on the application, and when they called, I pretended to be you, and I accepted.

"You did what?"

Charlie scrambles into the room, ears up, alerted by my shout.

Don’t leave out the best part, Will. Nate looks at me, folding his arms in disapproval, like we’re on the same side. He signed a contract.

Anger springs up so hard and fast, I have to clench my teeth to suppress it. I drop the papers on the counter and rub my hands across my face.

What kind of contract? I ask Will, doing my best to keep my voice level and calm.

His face is flushed, and he clears his throat. It’s just an agreement. Some rules about keeping your mic on at all times and being on time for the premiere.

Oh, my gosh. I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "This is insane. Give me the phone number. I’ll call them and explain that my brother is a moron who committed fraud and they’ll have to find someone else for their little social experiment."

I grab the paper from the counter and scan the bottom of the letter, looking for contact information.

Jack, just think about it for a second.

My eyes snap up. Think about what?

What else do you have to do this summer anyway? Will asks.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. Does he actually think I’m going to agree to this ridiculous contract he signed?

What about the fishing trip? I ask. It’s an annual tradition, just the three of us. One of the only things that kept me sane during the hard times with Quinn. How could he think I would be okay with missing that?

To my shock, all of the shame fades from Will’s face, and he lets out a small scoff at the question.

You mean the trip where Nate and I will go out fishing and you’ll stay back at the cabin drinking and sulking until you pass out on the couch? He shakes his head. No. You’re not invited.

The words are like a slap in the face. I look at Nate, but he doesn’t seem surprised by Will’s words.

I’m . . . not invited?

Nate at least has the decency to look apologetic when he says, "Sorry, man. You know we want you there. But we want you there. Not . . . He pauses, gesturing to me. Whoever this guy is."

I glance down at my ratty, stained sweats. My eyes travel across the room, taking note, again, of all the ways I’ve let this place become an outward representation of the sinking pit I feel on the inside.

Looking at my brother and my best friend standing before me, grave concern on their faces, my skin goes hot under the weight of their stares.

What is this, an intervention? I try to laugh, but it comes out bitter and raw.

There’s a long silence, until Nate finally breaks it with a quiet mutter.

Kinda, he says under his breath.

Ouch.

Charlie ambles over to my side, like she can sense that I need the emotional support. I absently scratch the top of her head as she nuzzles against my legs.

Will takes a few hesitant steps forward. He picks up the stack of papers from the counter and meets my eyes.

The flight’s all paid for by the show. They said to make sure you pack plenty of formal wear for the ring ceremonies, or whatever they’re called.

What exactly qualifies as formal wear? Because I’m pretty sure I don’t even own one suit, let alone several.

It says the flight leaves at nine tomorrow morning, Will says, looking at the schedule. I really think this’ll be good for you.

I try to think of a way to contradict that claim, but I can’t. Not without getting into the dirty details.

For all he and Nate and everyone else knows, I’ve been moping around for the past year because things with Quinn ended and I miss her. Even I have to admit that if this was just your average breakup, my behavior would be a little over the top. It’s been eleven months. That’s more than enough time to move on. But the truth is more complicated than that.

Will meets my gaze again. And . . . in case you need some more motivation, Angie and I have decided we’re not above bribery.

Angie? I scoff, shaking my head. I should have known she was in on this.

She cares about you too, Jack, Will says.

I bite my tongue, suppressing everything I want to say about my brother’s meddling wife and her constant need to fix everyone’s problems. But I know that’s just my pride talking. Angie’s the kindest person I know. Her concern isn’t motivated by some kind of selfish savior complex. She actually cares. And she’s made my brother a much more thoughtful person. Which is usually a good thing, I guess, but right now it’s just annoying.

Bribery? I ask.

Will gives me a small smirk. That M21 you’ve been wanting.

My eyes go wide. Wait, what?

Nate chuckles, and now they’re both sporting smug grins, as if I’ve already given in and agreed to their stupid plan.

But there’s no way Angie signed off on this. Not when she and Will have another baby on the way and they’re in the middle of a massive home remodel. There’s no way they’re about to buy me a twenty-five-hundred-dollar gun just to coerce me into going on a dating show.

You guys can’t afford that, I challenge, narrowing my eyes.

We can, Will replies, not bothered by my skepticism. Angie’s willing to cut back on a few of the things we had planned for the house.

My hand halts its scratching behind Charlie’s ears. Angie’s been planning this remodel for years. She’s had every detail meticulously decided, and she’s willing to give some of that up for me? On the off chance that going on this dumb show will help me find some kind of happiness again?

I look at Will, then Nate, taking in the anticipation on their faces. The crazy, blind hope that maybe I’ll say yes to this and maybe it’ll actually make things better. They must be pretty desperate if they actually think this is going to do anything to bring things back to how they used to be.

The papers are still in Will’s hand. I’m not buying a suit for this. If I’m going to be forced into this, I’m at least going to be comfortable.

Am I actually considering this?

The looks on their faces tell me they know they’ve got me right where they want me. I can’t let them win that easy.

A new gun’s no good without ammo, I say.

Will smiles, but then his face falls, and I can see the trepidation in his eyes when he thinks of having to ask Angie for even more money.

Deal, Nate chimes in. I’ll raise you a box.

I hesitate, wondering how much I can push my luck here.

Three, I counter.

He scoffs. Two. Final offer.

I chuckle. That sounds fair.

Wait, does that mean . . . Are you saying you’ll go? Will asks.

The fierce, desperate hope in his eyes makes my stomach sink. I knew he had been worried about me this past year, but I never knew it was this bad. He’s looking at me like everything in the world is riding on this. Like if I don’t agree to go on this show, I might be one minute away from buying that M21 and using it on myself.

Seeing that look on my baby brother’s face is what finally pushes me over the edge. If doing this will set his mind at ease, what’s the worst that could happen?

Charlie lets out a whine, sensing the tension in the room.

I look down at her, giving her head another scratch. What about Charlie? I ask.

We’ll take care of her, Will assures me. I’m sure the kids will love having a dog around for a couple months.

"Months? The word makes me realize how little I’ve considered the actual logistics of what this whole thing is going to be like. How long do I have to date this girl? And what if I don’t like her? Or, more likely, what if she doesn’t like me? Do I still get the gun if she sends me home the first night?"

Will purses his lips, considering that. Well, you have to at least try, he says. You can’t be all grumpy and cynical and sabotage things.

I frown. So I’m not allowed to be myself?

He laughs. Of course you can be yourself. Just . . . you know, don’t be a jerk about it.

So . . . you’re saying as long as I don’t treat the girl like crap and get in fistfights with the other guys, I’m good?

He pauses, thinking. If you want the gun, you have to at least make it through a couple rounds of eliminations.

I raise a brow. How many is ‘a couple’?

Two, Nate says. One for each box of ammo I owe you.

That can’t be that hard, can it? I mean, I’m not a completely insufferable person to be around. I can be charming enough to make it through two rounds. Then I’ll be sent packing, and I’ll come home to an appeased brother and the gun I’ve been trying to save for for who knows how long.

I nod. Breathing in deep, I take the papers from Will’s hand. I guess I’d better go pack, then.

Two

DAISY

All right, boys, it’s time, Mama calls out, drawing all of my brothers to the front of the house to see me off.

Colton and Brooks pause the game they’re playing in the living room, and Hayden shuffles down the hall, still half-asleep.

Where’s Wyatt? I ask.

I’ll go grab him, Brooks says, heading toward the kitchen where our oldest brother is probably fixing everybody breakfast. That’s normally my job, but I’ve been too busy getting ready for my flight this morning.

Got everything you need? Colton asks me. Flight information and all that stuff? ID?

Yep, got everything here. I pat the carry-on bag slung over my shoulder.

Did you, uh, double-check everything? Colton asks. You can never be too safe.

I narrow my eyes at him. Since when did he get so responsible?

I zip open my bag and sift through it. The folded stack of papers with all of my flight information is right where I left it, but my ID is nowhere to be found. Frantically, I search again, but I still don’t see anything.

Oh, my gosh! My ID’s missing, I say, looking through my bag once more.

What? Mama asks, panic in her voice. Didn’t you double-check everything as you were packing?

Of course I did, I say. Double, triple, quadruple checked. It was right here in this pocket.

Just as I’m leaning down to unzip my other suitcase and check every pocket I can find, Hayden chimes in.

You know, you really should be more careful, Daze, he says.

I look up at him, jaw set and ready to tell him off. But his eyes flit to Colton’s, and they exchange a small smirk.

Huffing an aggravated sigh, I stand up straight and smack Colton in the arm.

What did you do with it? I demand.

He laughs and pulls a small card from his back pocket.

I snatch it from his hand, stuffing it back into my bag where it belongs.

You know, that’s one thing I’m not gonna miss while I’m gone. I shake my head while Colton and Hayden both laugh.

Wyatt and Brooks join our little circle in the foyer. Taking note of the laughter and my frustrated expression, Wyatt signs to me in ASL, asking what happened.

They hid my ID, I sign back to him as I speak, and he gives Hayden a disapproving look.

Hayden holds up his hands. Don’t look at me. It was all him. He gestures to Colton.

In Hayden’s defense, he didn’t seem to be involved in this particular annoyance, but I don’t blame Wyatt for the assumption. He’s usually the source of all the trouble in this house.

Are y’all gonna wish me luck or just stress me out even more? I ask, speaking and signing, for Wyatt’s benefit.

"No need for stress, Wyatt signs. It’s gonna be great."

Yeah, you’ll be fine, Colton agrees. It’s those guys who should be stressed. If they don’t treat you right, they’ll have us to deal with.

"I’m sure they’ll treat her well," Wyatt replies.

He turns to me, ignoring Hayden and Colton as they argue over which of my four big brothers the contestants on the show should be most afraid of.

"You’re going to do fine, Wyatt signs to me. Just be yourself. Any of those guys would be lucky to have you."

He gives me a smile and pulls me in for a warm hug. My eyes start to well as I squeeze him tight.

Ever since Dad passed, Wyatt’s really stepped up to the plate, trying to fill in for him wherever we need. Knowing he and his wife and kids are here with Mama, running the farm and keeping Colton and Hayden out of trouble, makes me feel less anxious about leaving them for the whole summer.

When we pull away from our hug, I give him the I love you sign, and he does it back.

Finally, reluctantly, I turn my eyes to Brooks.

My whole family has been nothing but supportive ever since I decided to apply for Ravi’s season of Marriage Material last summer. And when I got the offer to be the next Leading Lady, they were all nearly as excited as I was. With the exception of Brooks.

He’s a true skeptic, the black sheep of our overly optimistic, head-in-the-clouds family. He took after Dad in that, and when Dad died, I think it made his pessimistic outlook