Man Buns
Shari J. Ryan
Contents
Ready for Man Buns?
About the Author
Also by Shari J. Ryan
Prologue
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
Epilogue Part one
Epilogue Part Two
Don’t Miss These!
Ready for Man Buns?
BLURB
I got out of the Marine Corps to give my daughter a better life. I’m a strong and capable single dad. I got this, right? Not so much.
The one thing my daughter wants is the hardest to find—a mom. It’s not like they’re selling hot intelligent women at Walmart these days, and with the amount of baggage I’m carrying around, I might be out of luck.
Yeah, so.
We moved from Oahu to Maui. I needed a job, a place to live, and to get us settled. I thought it would be simple, but let’s just say . . . mistakes have been made.
· Mistake #1: I took the first job I was offered. (Should’ve probably asked a couple more questions about the required uniform.)
· Mistake #2: I flirted with Kai, the first attractive woman who crossed my path. (So far out of my league she might as well be a Hawaiian princess.)
· Mistake #3: I fell head over heels for that woman. (See Mistake #2.)
Now I’m standing here showing my butt—no, literally. It's the required uniform at Man Buns, the restaurant I’m working at. (See Mistake #1).
In any case, I can tell you one thing—it’s damn near impossible to convince the woman I can’t live without to take me seriously when I’m serving up burgers, half-naked, and women are constantly ogling my assets.
I’ve gotta try, though. Because Kai is the woman for me, and she’s perfect with Aya. I’ve just gotta get these man buns in gear and figure out how to win her over.
Praise for Shari J. Ryan
“This was my first of the "Man Cave" stories that I've ready by Shari J. Ryan and all I can ask myself is WHY did it take me so long to finally read these. This story had the perfect about of feels, humor, snark and a little "surprise" toward the end that was unexpected, tying the story together so perfectly …”
Sue, Goodreads - Early Reader
“5 SEXY MAN BUNS STARS!! HOLY SMOKES, Denver is sexy, sweet and a single father. This book has the perfect ingredients for a delicious read that you will devour.”
Rhonda Ziglar, Goodreads - Early Reader
“I loved, loved, loved this book! If you are looking for a great romantic comedy - this is it!! Shari tells a sweet story of a single dad who finds himself in an unusual situation.”
ML Dyson, Goodreads - Early Reader
About the Author
Shari J. Ryan is an International Bestselling Author of more than twenty novels. Shari was once told she tends to exaggerate often and sometimes talks too much, which would make a great foundation for fictional books. Six years after beginning her publishing journey, Shari’s main objective is to make her readers feel the realism within her books through descriptive detail, lively characters, and raw emotions.
While Shari devotes much of her time to writing, she always puts her family first. Shari is a devoted wife to a wonderful and supportive man, and a mother to two little boys who remind her daily why she was put on this earth.
For weekly love notes, subscribe to her newsletter:
To interact with Shari, join her Twisted Drifters Group:
Also by Shari J. Ryan
Romantic Comedy:
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Manservant
Man Flu
Man Handler
Man Buns
Spiked Lemonade
Queen of the Throne
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Literary Fiction:
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Last Words
The Other Blue Sky (Coming Soon)
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Contemporary Romance:
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A Heart of Time
A Missing Heart
A Change of Heart
Raine’s Haven
Ravel
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Romantic Suspense:
Darkest Perception
Red Nights
TAG
You’re It
No Way Out
The Schasm Series
- Schasm
-Fissure Free
-When Fully Fused
Copyright © 2018 by Shari J. Ryan
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Being Edited by: Lisa Brown
Cover Design & Formatting: MadHat Books
* * *
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
* * *
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Annelle
I debated dedicating this book to you, simply due to the nature of the story, but this was our humor.
There will never be another person to replace you. You gave me a reason to laugh, to live with a smile, and see the sun even on cloudy days.
I miss you, sweet friend.
You told me to hurry up and finish this book so you could read it because you needed the laughs. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you in time, but I hope you’d be proud. XO
Thank You
I tend to write lengthy acknowledgments, but this time I’d like to keep it simple this time.
I went through a very challenging time over the course of writing this book with losing my dear friend very suddenly. It was a struggle to push myself through my emotions, but writing has always been my therapy, and it appeared to work for me just the same this time, too.
I have an incredible family, amazing friends, and the best publishing support team to rely on. Everyone in my life has been there for me without question or judgement, whenever I have needed them the most. I can only hope you look at me the way I look at you.
You know who are, and I love you all more than I could ever put into words.
Never waste a day …
Be grateful for what you have, and who you have …
Love like you’ve never loved before.
Josh, Bryce, and Brayden—you are my world. Never forget that.
Prologue
Denver
THREE YEARS AGO
Come on, five o’clock. This recruiting position is a pretty good gig. It was a hard transition after working in a communications job while stationed on base in the continental United States, though. My assigned year-long deployment to Oahu was to help manage the recruiting office, but I managed to create a situation for myself that would make it hard to leave once the year was up.
Retaining a recruiter position was the only way to remain stateside for Aya. Plus, it’s Hawaii, and I get to stand on a boardwalk overlooking the Pacific Ocean while doing my job, which isn’t a bad deal. Today, though, it’s like ninety degrees. I’m standing in my dress blues sweating my balls off, but I need to appear li
ke I’m not hot at all, or sweating between my thighs, and under my ass cheeks. I have to pretend like this heavy cover (cap) on my head is light as a feather and shielding me from the sun, rather than attracting it with the glossy black rim. Still, things could be a lot worse.
Knowing which passersby to target is an acquired skill. Typically, I look for men around the age of eighteen since they’re the most eager to enlist, making it easier to meet my quota. I try to round out the diversity and take my chances with some of the passing women too. Even though they tend to be harder to recruit, my stats need to show a reasonable ratio of male and female recruits.
To achieve my goal, I typically narrow my selection of women down to those who have a particular look of determination in their eyes. I’ve found that partiular first impression to be the most important if I’m to even stand a chance of recruiting them. I spot the look immediately on the face of a somewhat agitated-looking woman walking past by my booth. I haven’t stopped anyone in the past hour, so I might as well give her a shot and cross my fingers for luck. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I call out to her just before she walks by.
She continues walking. “Ma’am?” I call out again.
She passes by the booth but then stops and turns toward me. “Did you just call me ‘ma’am?’ How old do you think I am? Geez.”
“I was just trying to be courteous,” I tell her. Damn, no one has ever snapped at me for being polite. I guess she is agitated for whatever reason.
“Well, I’m twenty-five, and I don’t consider myself a ‘ma’am’ just yet,” she says with a raised brow and slight snarl. She’s not even impressed by the uniform. If the women I speak to aren’t interested in joining the Marines, they’ll usually still appreciate a good-looking guy in his blues. This one apparently isn’t charmed by me, though.
“I apologize, miss. Do you have a moment to spare?” I ask her.
She reaches into her pocket and retrieves something then reaches over to hand it to me. Although I consider it an odd gesture, I open my gloved fist to take whatever she’s oddly giving me. “It’s all I have on me,” she says.
Fifty cents. “I’m not begging for money, but tell me, what made you think I was?”
“Oh, my bad,” she says with a snide smile. “You reached your hand out, and I just reacted.” She laughs, and I hope it’s the start of her attitude switching around a bit.
I can’t help noticing that she’s gorgeous, even with the cold scowl on her face. The scowl is what made me call her over, though. “You know, you seem like you’d be the perfect type of candidate to join the Marine Corps. Have you ever considered joining us?” Not that I know what her current career is, but I can take a quick guess it’s not bringing fulfillment to her life.
“No. As a matter of fact, I have never in my life considered a new job. Isn’t that just wild? I like to live a simple, boring life, so change isn’t really my thing.” She’s still smiling. Her dry sense of humor could mimic mine while I’m not on the clock, so it’s hard not to play back.
“Cool, well, I’d be happy to take down your information, so we have your name on record in case you ever change your mind and decide you’d like to pursue a career with us. I’m sure you already know that we not only help our country and fellow Americans, but we help ourselves become better people, as well.”
She smirks, possibly stalling in thought. “Now, I think you’re onto something, soldier.”
“Marine, ma’am—miss, sorry. I’m a Marine.”
“I thought soldiers and Marines were the same,” she says.
I can’t tell if she’s serious or not, so I hold my tongue. “We’re quite different actually. We work closely with the Navy and have a different set of skills.”
“So, you’re like a sailor, then?” I’m still questioning whether she knows precisely what she’s saying right now.
“No, I’m not like a sailor either. I’m a Marine, and you could be too.”
“I don’t think the Marines sounds like it would be a good fit for me. I mean, if I wanted to go dig holes in the sand, I could just go to the beach,” she says, trying her hardest not to smile at me. “Thanks anyway.”
I can’t just give up on this one. I feel like she’s not a hundred percent set on her answer. Or, maybe I'm just ridiculous. “Hold up, miss. Are you willing to at least leave your name and number for us to follow up with you, in case you change your mind after you think it over?”
She crosses her arms and leans to the side, then presses her fingertip against her lips. “So, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to give me your information in case I become interested in joining you?”
“Sure, but we like to keep records, as you can probably imagine.”
“Sure, I can imagine,” she says. Another coy smile stretches across her lips, and I know this isn’t going to end well, but I’m knee deep here, and I feel like there’s a slight chance she might be interested.
“Do you need to meet a certain number today?” she asks.
“A number, miss?”
“A number of signups?”
“My personal goal is just one more before I head home for the evening,” I tell her honestly.
“Well then, let me help you get home a little faster tonight,” she says.
“Thank you, I do appreciate it. Of course, I hope you’ll consider a future career with us too. We have some great opportunities to travel and see the world. It’s not a bad life at all.” I move around behind my booth and open the binder to retrieve a simple form for her to jot down her name and phone number.
“Sounds interesting,” she says. I’m shocked that she’s filling the form out. I didn’t think I’d keep her attention for more than a second. She takes the pen from the countertop and scribbles her information down.
“I appreciate you taking the time to fill this out. If it’s okay, I may follow up with you to see if you’d like to hear more about some of the other benefits we offer.”
“Sure, definitely,” she says with an abundance of excitement. I think she’s pulling my chain, but I’ve been wrong before. “Yeah. Give me a call, and we’ll set something up.” She winks at me and points her finger in my direction. I can immediately see that the agitation has returned, but at least I have her name and number. “Later, soldier.”
Funny.
I look down at the information she jotted down. Maybe it’s her real name, but I’m pretty sure no one has the last four digits of 8008 in their number. BOOB. That’s what she left me with. Her boob’s number and a little note that says, “Maybe another time. Thanks for the chat.” She thinks I’m a boob.
This is the fucking fabulous life of Denver Rossdale, folks!
Chapter One
Denver
A piece of paper with words I don’t need to re-read at the moment is placed into my hand, ending a long chapter of my life. For every day throughout the last eight years of hard-core physical labor throughout the last eight years, it’s hard to comprehend how simple this ending is—this last day.
I debated whether I should re-enlist with the consideration of retiring someday, but Aya needs more than this life can offer her, so this is it: my last day serving on active duty with the Marine Corps.
“Good luck to you, Staff Sergeant Rossdale. Semper Fi.”
“Thank you,” I say with a quick salute.
It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about this day for the last eight months, but I feel like I’m kind of free-falling without any gear attached. I don’t remember much about life as a civilian because too much has happened since then, but this will be good. Everything is going to be great. I just have to figure out who the fuck I am. Denver. Not just Rossdale. I have a first name, and I'll use it now.
I grab the handle of the glass door, staring through the eagle, globe, and anchor emblem as I pull open the door and walk out into the blinding sun. That’s it. It’s over. O-V-E-R.
Walking away now. “Bye, everyone.” Oh, wait ... no one is here. No one cares that it’
s my last day.
At some point, I thought there’d be people shouting me on like I was finishing some marathon, but now I realize that isn’t how this all works, especially when you’re a recruiter. It’s a lonely work life. Everyone has their first day, all the days in between, and their last day.
With a quick glance down at my watch, I see it’s a little later than I wanted it to be. There were still a few papers left for me to go through, and it took a bit longer than I expected. All I know is, it’s time to get the hell off this island.
I slide into my pickup, throw the hunk of metal into reverse, and pull out onto the main road. I’d do about anything to press my foot down to the ground and meet that feeling of freedom—or just the wind in my face, but it’s best if I follow the speed limit during my first ten minutes as a civilian again.
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