Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Hey,” she coos right back.
The cutest little baby girl that you ever did see.
“You are one hundred percent cheating,” Henley tells Antony.
“I am not,” he scoffs. “You’re just a sore loser.”
Blake smirks as he looks at his cards, and I get the feeling that he’s the one who’s cheating.
Some things never change, and yet some things do. Life is different for me now.
I live with Blake in his house. Our life is filled with love and laughter, and I guess, as the saying goes, time does heal all wounds.
I’m laughing my way through life with my best friend.
“Could you be any cluckier, Bec?” Juliet teases.
“Not really.” I bounce Hannah as I hold her little hands in mine.
Blake’s eyes are glued to his hand of cards. He’s deep in concentration.
“Give the woman a baby, Grayson,” Henley mutters.
“I want to be married before I have a baby,” I announce.
Blake chews on a toothpick, his eyes not rising for even a second. “You’re as subtle as a Mack truck, Rebecca.”
Everyone chuckles. It’s become a joke between us now. I want to get married, and Blake won’t hear a word of it.
“He’s going to ask me any day,” I tease.
“No way,” he mutters as he pulls a card out of his hand and throws it down onto the table.
“Way.” I widen my eyes. “Henley, I want my ring back out of your safe.”
“Not happening, Dalton,” Blake says as he collects the cards. He scoops them up into his hand. “I’ve still got PTSD from last time.”
Everyone laughs.
“Keep going, and I’m going to have to ask you,” I warn him.
“Good,” he fires back. “I can’t wait to say no.”
I smile. He acts so tough . . . but deep down, we all know the truth.
Everyone chuckles and goes back to their conversations.
Maybe I actually should ask him?
Hmm . . .
Blake
The chatter from the golfing green fills the street, and as I walk over to them, I check the mailbox. I shuffle through the mail as I stand on the driveway and get to one and stop still.
Nooky Nights
Kingston Lane
What?
I tear the letter open at double speed. “The fuck is this?”
I haven’t thought about Nooky Nights for months.
Dear Nooky Nights,
Thank you for your recent inquiry.
We adored your story about Lazarus and Freya and were swept away with your writing.
We would love to offer you a publishing contract. However, our emails to you keep bouncing back.
Please contact us as soon as possible, as we don’t have another means to contact you apart from this mailing address.
Sincerely,
Dark and Dangerous Publishing House
“What the hell?” I march over to the boys. “Look at this.” I hold the letter out, and Henley takes it from me and begins to read.
“The fuck . . .”
“What is it?” Ant asks.
“Hey there, cutie.” I touch the end of Hannah’s cute little button nose. She’s in a sling on Henley’s chest. Her favorite pastime is playing golf with us.
“Shit.” Henley passes the letter to Antony, and he begins to read.
Antony’s mouth falls open, and he looks up at us. “I told you that story was fucking good.”
“What good is it, though, if it doesn’t ever get published? Someone on Kingston Lane is sitting on a gold mine, and they don’t even know it.”
“We have to find who wrote it.”
“But how?”
“Well . . . we know it’s definitely not Rebecca,” I reply.
“True.”
I glance over and see Carol talking to Winston on her front steps. “How come those two are so friendly lately?”
“Fuck knows,” Henley mutters. Hannah starts to fuss. “I have to go in.”
“But what about Nooky?” I call after him.
He holds his hands up. “Fuck knows.”
“Stop cursing. Hannah can hear you,” I call. “She’s going to learn the word fuck.”
He gives me the bird as he disappears inside.
“Hmm.” Ant reads the letter again. “I reckon just ask everyone.”
“But then their secret will be out. Whoever wrote it wants it to be kept private.”
He holds his hands up. “I don’t know, man.”
“Blake,” Rebecca calls.
I glance up to see Bec standing on our front steps. “Dinner’s ready. Got to go.”
“See you.” Ant keeps putting the ball.
I walk back into the house to see everything in darkness and a trail of candles leading from the front door.
“Huh?” I frown. “Bec?”
“In here.”
I walk into the kitchen and see a mass of candles on the table and little dishes of lasagna.
“What the . . .” I frown.
It’s then that I see the lasagnas are in letter tins.
MARRY ME
I spin around to see Rebecca on one knee. “Blake Grayson.”
I smirk.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
“What do you mean?” I tease.
“Will you marry me?” She smiles up at me, all hopeful.
“What kind of marriage—”
“Blake,” she snaps, cutting me off, “don’t push your luck.”
I drop to my knees in front of her. “You took your damn time, woman.” I smirk.