Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
The door slams a second later, leaving us alone.
Ashley pulls back, her face streaked with tears. “Caleb. Caleb…” She swipes at the moisture, her expression a war between disbelief and joy. “You did it. You…I can’t believe…I’m free. I’m free of him. My family is going to be fine. All because of you.”
“No. I’m not taking credit when you were the brave one who sacrificed yourself to save your family. Who was brave and resolute in the face of violence.” I flatten her to my chest, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m only here to make sure you never have to do either of those things ever again.”
She looks up at me, her beautiful face finally, finally one hundred percent free of worry. “I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you, too, angel,” I say, hoarse.
A twinkle of humor lights up her features. “What was your plan if you didn’t find any fraud or wrongdoing?”
“We were going to be halfway to Europe right now.”
She giggles and it’s a dreamy sound I plan to hear often. As often as possible. “I would have run with you. As fast as I could. I still would.”
I pick her up in my arms and carry her into the house, moaning when her legs slide around my hips like second skin, the top of her dress tugging down, so I can see the ripe slopes of her breasts. “No need to run, Ashley,” I manage, pinning her to the closest wall and claiming her mouth in a kiss that leaves us both shaken. “You’re home.”
EPILOGUE
Ashley
Five Years Later
My peal of laughter carries across the parking lot as my husband swings me up into his arms, carrying me toward the bookstore. I let my neck go loose, arms limp, not one iota of tension in my body. Secure in the knowledge that I’m in the most capable hands. The sun peeks in and out from behind the clouds, the hem of my sundress fluttering against my calves. I am the embodiment of bliss.
The feeling only increases when Caleb squeezes me tighter and says, “There’s a line out the door, angel.”
I jerk to attention in his arms. “What?”
“See for yourself,” he says, a pride heavy in his tone.
Blocking my eyes from the sunshine, I look to the far end of the parking lot where the two-story bookstore is located, my heart rippling in my chest when I see a line of women standing in the shadow of the building. If it wasn’t for the fact that each of them is holding a copy of my debut novel, I would assume they’d come to see someone else.
But…they’re here to see me.
“Oh my gosh. Is this real?””
“It is.” He hefts me higher and slightly alters the direction we’re traveling. “We’ll have to bring you in through the back entrance like a celebrity.”
“That seems unnecessary,” I murmur, but I allow Caleb to carry me around back of the building, if only because I need some time to gather my composure. This is my first time doing a book signing and I expected the turnout to be minimal.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Your novel is still flying off shelves,” Caleb says, settling me on my feet in the small alley behind the shop. He doesn’t knock on the back door yet, however, probably sensing I’m not ready to go in. Instead, he wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips to my forehead, his palm rubbing circles between my shoulder blades. “I’m so proud of you, Ashley.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, tilting my head back to look at this man, this hero. The one and only great love of my life. Father of my son…and the second child growing in my belly even now. “Who knew people would want to read a story about a lost and lonely woman falling in love with her therapist?”
His mouth brushes over mine, teasing me with light contact, before he deepens the kiss, his hand palming the back of my head, his lips a tool of magic. Everything about Caleb is magic. His practice has grown exponentially over the last five years, his client list overflowing, mostly with men seeking counseling. After the release of my book, in which the hero saves the heroine from her abusive husband and teaches her how to stand on her own, the pair ultimately falling madly in love, women started sending their husbands to therapy with Caleb in droves, hoping he’d be able to impart his secret to being a good partner. Just like the hero from the book, which I titled Method to His Madness.
“We need to get working on the sequel,” Caleb says, his knuckle rubbing against my nipples through the thin bodice of my dress, turning them to aching points. “Where the main characters build their dream house on the edge of the family farm and spend their evenings on the porch, watching a border collie run circles around their toddler.”