Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Especially with me,” I remind him, hooking my leg over his.
“It wouldn’t have worked with anyone else, Hattie.”
My whole body tingles.
He still gets that reaction, even though he tells me he loves me every single day.
Yes, the breakup sucked, but it helped him realize what’s important. I’m not afraid anymore that he’ll take me for granted or abruptly change his mind.
Not while he’s holding my hand like a treasure.
It’s a new experience, feeling like you’re in so deep with a man and he’s right there with you, sheltering you from every wave of life.
Every time I imagine the future, my fingers and toes curl. I get the same heady feeling I do when I finish an awesome book and I know there’s a sequel coming.
Ethan Blackthorn isn’t just my sequel.
He’s my whole fricking saga.
The prologue, the middle chapter, and the very last word. If I’m lucky, we’ll be writing amazing new stories together until we die.
Grinning, I roll on top of him, urging his hands on my hips.
“Careful,” he growls.
His eyes ignite. I can already feel his erection against my leg.
“I want to hear you say it,” I whisper, brushing my lips over his.
“You really want to talk about Gramps right now? Fuck.”
“I want you to forgive him. If you can.”
He sighs roughly, his hands traveling back up my sides, fingers grazing the curve of my breast. My nipples pebble.
“For your impatient, irresistibly sweet ass, I do. I forgive the old man. He was only human, and that’s a hard thing to be.”
“So wise.”
Leaning down, I nip his bottom lip, watching the way his eyes well with desire until he growls into my kiss.
“I just want to move forward and forget the past, Ethan. No regrets.”
“Woman, I could never regret you.”
And when he kisses me again, I don’t care if anyone from the evening crowd could walk in on us at any moment.
I give myself over to my almost husband and my forever.
When did real life become a fantasy novel?
Because I feel like I’m ready to sprout fairy wings, surrounded by tall trees bursting with so much autumn fire it’s breathtaking.
The wedding is on the same woodpecker protected land that sent Cooper Daley spiraling. Ethan hasn’t figured out what to do with it yet.
That’s our little bonus that makes it extra special.
Sometimes land isn’t about money.
For us, this place is magical, and that’s everything.
This morning, with Margot and Mom fussing around me and the photographer lurking in the background, I stepped into my well-altered wedding dress for the final time.
Mom did up the back, tugging more gently at my waist than I expected. All while Margot blubbered like she did when we were little girls.
Now, standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking at myself, I want to cry.
Pure Cinderella with a sprinkle of fairy dust.
The last few days have been glorious. Ever since my booktastic bachelorette party with Margot and Mom, where we barhopped and ended our evening listening to audiobooks by Mom’s fireplace.
But seeing myself like this, I know I haven’t tasted happiness yet.
The dress cups my breasts, pushing them together, subtle yet alluring. No easy feat with boobs this big, thank you.
The sleek material drapes down, flowing over my curves like a silky waterfall, tastefully accented without hiding my shape.
Flaws?
Nope, I don’t see them.
Yes, the curve of my hips is round and there’s a little loose flesh on my upper arms. There’s still a small flabby bulge at the base of my stomach.
But now I know—I know—it doesn’t matter.
My soon-to-be husband loves me just the way I am.
That gives me the courage to love myself.
“You look so radiant,” Mom whispers in awe.
“She really does,” Margot agrees, resting her head on my shoulder.
She’s wearing her sage-green dress, the one she helped pick as Maid of Honor. Honestly, with her hair up in loose curls, she’s rocking fae mode herself today.
“Do you have the shoes?” I ask.
“You know it! Hang on.” She quickly fetches a pair of low white heels a second later. They’re spotless, despite knowing she’s owned them for a few years.
When I asked to borrow them, she wanted to buy me a new pair. But I’ve loved these since the first time I saw her wearing them. They were custom shoes she agonized over a long time ago, and I needed my something borrowed.
Silly traditions matter.
Good thing we’re the same size in the shoe department, too.
“Enjoy, Hattie. I don’t want them back.” She sets them in front of me so I can slip them on.
“That’s not borrowing!” I say.
“It’s a gift. We’ll just say I borrowed them from you. I just never knew it when I had them made.” She grins at me, so full of love I can’t do anything but love her back even when she’s being ridiculous.
I’m so grateful she’s been my bestie forever, and now our lives are going to be more intertwined than I dreamed.