* * *
Two months later, over a breakfast of eggs and toast, she hands me a stick with two pink lines. I’m overjoyed, and that feeling is magnified a million times over nine months later when our son is born.
And One More Epilogue
Elise
A few years later
* * *
At last.
I have a moment alone to put up my feet and savor the quiet. The boys are outside in the backyard, and I’m away from the crazy day-to-day life of the agency back in Paris—the agency that Polly has been helping me run, now that I’ve become a little busier at home.
Busier baking.
Baking people.
I run a hand over my belly. It’s the second time it’s been this big, and there are a few people who are quite happy about that. Me, of course. My fabulous husband, who’s an even better father. And his mother. She is, quite simply, the perfect grandmother, and she’s convinced us to spend more time here in Copenhagen, so she can dote on her grandchildren.
I don’t mind being here at all. It’s no hardship to spend time at Christian’s home on the canal, especially during the glorious late summer days when the water gleams like a sapphire, mirroring the powder-blue canvas above us in the sky.
But right now, I simply need to sit.
I close my eyes, but the second I do, a little voice calls out to me.
“Mummy, come look!”
I sigh but heed the call of my three-year-old son, James. Rising slowly, I head to the sliding glass door and step into the yard.
The sun is glaring, and the reflection is so bright, I can’t quite make out what Christian and James are doing. But as I shield my eyes with my hand and squint, it becomes patently obvious.
“I can do handstands just like Daddy.”
I groan and march down the yard, shaking my head at my husband. “You’re not making him part of that club.”
Christian holds up his hands ever-so-innocently in a who, me? “Of course not. I’m fully clothed.”
“Do it with me, Daddy.”
Christian flips over on the dock, onto his hands like our son. At least this time, both are wearing shorts.
I smile and relent. After all, maybe the world needs more men who can do handstands, naked or not.
I run a hand over my belly. “Just don’t teach our daughter to join your club.”
Christian laughs, flips over, and stands up. He rushes to me and sets a hand on my gigantic basketball. “Good point. No daughter of mine will ever be flashing tourists naked.”
“She better not.”
“But you can flash me later.” He winks, and then James runs over and joins us, and I take his little hand. We walk to the dock, sit on the edge, and watch the boats go by.
Happily.
* * *
THE END
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* * *
Coming Soon!
Get ready for a sexy, witty, clever rom-com series coming this fall in THE HEARTBREAKERS! Three brothers, three standalones, three love stories that'll make you laugh, swoon and fan yourself from the heat! You can preorder all three books on most retailers now and they release in September and October! An excerpt follows from ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME!
The Heartbreakers
* * *
You’ll also want to mark your calendars for UNBREAK MY HEART, an emotional second chance standalone romance releasing in August. You can preorder it on most retailers for a SPECIAL PRICE (Kindle readers will get the special price on release day!) and a short excerpt follows! I can’t wait for you to read this emotional story!
* * *
Please enjoy chapter one of ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME!
* * *
Chapter One
Mackenzie
* * *
I’m not checking him out.
I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.
The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”
I’m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.
“—in the 2009 movie The Hangover?”
“So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.
I’m not a ringer.
I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.
That’s all.
Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.
As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.
And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.
But for now . . . Hello, nice view.
As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.
I bet they’d fly other places too.
Come to think of it, I better give him a full and proper appraisal, especially since the Jeopardy!-style theme clock blasting from the hostess’s phone is counting down the seconds till we’ve all penned an answer to her latest question, which means I have time to ogle.
A thin blue T-shirt reveals inked and toned arms, and stubble covers his jaw—deliberate stubble. Not the I-didn’t-shave-today stubble, but a healthy amount of scruff. Yum.
“Would you like your camera to take a picture, or have you captured Guitar Hero in your brain for posterity?”
I jerk my gaze back to Roxy.
Note to self: develop some subtlety when ogling. Especially since you’re out of practice on . . . everything.
I flip a strand of hair off my shoulder. “I wasn’t checking him out.”
Roxy rolls her hazel eyes. “I’m hereby awarding you a trophy for the most unconvincing attempt at denial ever.”
I huff. “Fine. He’s crazy handsome. Look at those cheekbones. Those lips. Those eyes.”
She sings his praises too. “Those hands, that ass, those legs.”
I swat her arm. “Stop perving on my eye candy.”
My best friend smiles wickedly. “It’s so easy to see through you.”
“I didn’t deny it for long.” I hold up one finger. “For, like, one round of denial.”
She reaches for my iced tea and hands it to me. “Speaking of rounds, take a drink. It’ll make you strong for the final round of the game.”
“Sometimes I think you use me for the useless facts in my head.”
“You don’t have to think it. You know I do.”
“Love you too.”
“Also,” she says, leaning closer, “your eye candy was checking you out as well.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Lying liar who lies.”
The hostess taps the mic from her spot in front of Mr. Guitar Hero. “And now, for the final question in The Tuesday Night Grouchy Owl Pub Quiz . . .”
Like synchronized swimmers, Roxy and I straighten our shoulders in unison. I grab the pencil. Hold it tight. This isn’t a first-to-the-bell game, but there’s something about being on high alert that feels right. I’m ready.
Questions zip through my brain,
answers following instantly as my mind exercises itself. The Beatles were first the Quarrymen; at sixty-three, Jupiter has the most moons; the Pacific is 8,000 meters deep.
“Which Whitney Houston song is an anagram of ‘mention mine to me’?”
What the what?
I turn to Roxy, and we are matching slack-jawed, WTH memes. Admittedly, pop music is my weakest category, but I can handle the basic questions surrounding the genre. This question is a little left of center though. I try my best to cycle through the diva’s tunes. We mouth to each other the big Whitney hits: "I Will Always Love You.” “Greatest Love of All.” “How Will I Know.”
I shake my head, and Roxy furrows her brow.
I stare off at the stage when the guy with the surfer hair catches my gaze and mouths hi, startling me. Is he talking to me? Oh yes, he is, since he follows that hi with four more words.
Holy smokes.
He slipped me the answer.
I’m officially in love.
I grab Roxy’s arm. “‘One Moment in Time,’” I whisper, and I unleash a smile at Guitar Hero. Because we’re one step closer to winning, and that’s one of my favorite things to do on a Tuesday night during my hour-long escape at The Grouchy Owl.
But wait. How does hottie know a Whitney Houston song? Straight men can know Whitney tunes, right?
Of course they can. God, I hope so. He looks seriously straight. He’s staring at me like a man who enjoys boobs stares at a woman who has them.
I sneak another peek. His fingers slide down the guitar as he tunes it. He raises an eyebrow and locks eyes with me. The corner of his lips curves up.
My stupid stomach has the audacity to swoop.
Of course, in my stomach’s defense, the loop the loop makes complete sense. Not only is he a babe registering easily at 15.5 on the only-goes-to-ten babe-o-meter, but he’s holding a guitar. The way he wields the Stratocaster cranks my libido up high.
That might be due to said libido’s sadly solo life these days.
As the hostess collects the answer slips, Roxy nudges my shoulder. “Go talk to him.”
I roll my eyes.
“Oh please. You can do it,” she adds.
“I’m not going to go talk to some random guy onstage at a bar, prepping for his set.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I sputter. “Because it’s dangerous, risky, crazy, and I have a thirteen-year-old at home.”
“Isn’t Kyle out right now? Practice or something?”
“Yes, but I need to pick him up in a few minutes, and that means I should go.”
Roxy pouts. “Don’t go before we find out if we win. And don’t go before you talk to Mr. Steamy McMusic.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You go talk to him.”
“I can’t. He has your eye marks all over him.”
“Good. I own the view.”
I stand, and Roxy joins me to give a quick goodbye hug. On my way out, I wonder if Mr. Guitar Hero is checking me out too . . .
* * *
ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME releases Sept. 10 and can be preordered on most retailers!
* * *
And now, please enjoy a teaser from UNBREAK MY HEART, coming August 13th!
* * *
She inches her hand across the counter just a little bit closer, and that hand, I want to grab it and hold on. I glance at our fingers, so close all it would take is one of us giving an inch. One stretch for us to reconnect, so I wait. Wait for her to put her hands on my face and press her lips against mine and kiss me like it’s been killing her not to.
But I can’t wait.
I break first, saying her name in a lonely, desperate rasp. “Holland.”
“Andrew.” Her voice is a whisper.
“Go with me,” I blurt out.
She blinks. “What?”
I shake my head.
Leaving the kitchen, I stalk to the living room, pacing like I can sort out what to do if I get just a few feet away from her.
She’s right behind me, her hand on my arm. “Say it again.”
I swivel around, and with her blue eyes on mine, her body close, I break to pieces. With her, my heart beats too fast, my blood pumps too quickly. I have no will to tell her to stop being so near to me but not near enough to make everything better.
“Say what again?” I ask, as if I’ve forgotten.
“Ask me,” she presses.
And she wins. She fucking wins. “Go with me. Come with me.”
UNBREAK MY HEART releases August 13th and is available to preorder at a discount price!
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to KP Simmon, Helen Williams, Kelley, Jen, Dena, Kim Bias, Lauren Clarke, Karen, Tiffany, Lynn, Janice, Virginia, Stephanie and Michelle. I am immensely grateful for all you do every day. Big thanks to my family, and as always, I am most grateful for my readers, who make everything possible.
Contact
I love hearing from readers! You can find me on Twitter at LaurenBlakely3, Instagram at LaurenBlakelyBooks, Facebook at LaurenBlakelyBooks, or online at LaurenBlakely.com. You can also email me at [email protected]
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