Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“Ha! Well, I’ve got three hundred and seventy-six!” Terry squints his eyes, leans in to his screen, and suddenly his fingers are flying too.
“Ooookay.” Shawn chuckles. “Nothing like a little friendly competition. Ready, Steve?”
“Let’s do it.”
“All right. Twenty minutes on the clock. Good luck, everyone.”
We all say good luck, mute our streams, and then start our last sprint of the day.
I’m sitting in my new office looking out at my incredible view of the ocean. In my new house actually. And… actually, actually it’s not my new house, but our new house. Cordelia and I bought it together.
My other house was over-the-top amazing. I mean, doesn’t everyone want to live in a Malibu dream house? The sand, the water, the salty air. It was quite lovely.
We’re in the hills now. I have dirt, not sand. I can see the ocean, but not hear it. And it takes a good wind to get a whiff of the salt. But with five point five acres, private access to a popular hiking trail, a barn with room enough for three horses (who knew I’d be excited about that?), and so much privacy I almost feel like the last man on Earth when I gaze out my window—this is a real forever-home kind of place. My nearest neighbor isn’t ten feet away, they are on a whole other hillside. And, coincidentally enough, those neighbors happen to be Mike and Essie.
I can stand outside by my pool and wave to my twin across a small valley. We could have a conversation across said valley, if we wanted to shout. We actually tried that out—and it worked! We even tossed around the idea of hooking up a tin-can phone line like we used to do between our bedrooms when we were six.
In all seriousness though, we might build a bridge. I mean… all the little cousins will want to play together, won’t they?
One day.
No one’s pregnant yet. But it’s coming.
Essie and Mike’s empire of beachfront rental trailers is manifest and their dream house is done now. After a whole year of renovations—they practically tore the old one down and rebuilt it—not to mention a whole lot of stress, they finally moved in last week.
Their three-year plan is now down to two. So… yeah. The buns are practically in the oven. I don’t know why, but we all just figure Essie’s gonna have twins first time out.
And Cordy and I are pretty ready too. To say that my mother is ecstatic with anticipation would be an understatement. She and Dad are still living down in one of the trailers. Filling up their golden-year days with long walks on the beach and white-wine sunsets.
Cordelia has released two bestsellers in the last year. She walks around here pinching herself.
The house is almost brand new. Just over a year old and no one has ever lived here before us. The people who built it ended up moving to the Maldives for some reason. But their loss is our luck because this place is the definition of a writers’ retreat.
Which is perfect, since it now contains two writers. The entire second level is a master suite sandwiched between two offices, hers on the east, mine on the west. And they each come with their own private terraces.
It’s like they built this house just for us.
Plus, the upside is that it’s only twenty minutes from Terry. We go over there all the time now and hang out with his family on the lake. It’s like a regular thing.
I let out a long sigh and start typing, my fingers easily finding all the right words in this particular scene. I’ve been writing these characters for about four years, so they are pretty much family now, as real to me as my actual family across the valley. And I know the world so well, I feel like a Southern boy myself. I often come out of my office speaking in a drawl and Cordy has to remind me we live in Malibu, not Pearl River, until I snap out of it. It’s set in the backwoods of Louisiana. A real dark, twisted kind of story with creepy undertones that add to the erotic side-story I’ve been building up over the last six books.
To say that I am satisfied would be an understatement.
But still, there is one thing missing.
The wedding.
I mean, we’re already thinking babies, but we still need that pesky wedding to lie up all our loose ends. I just… haven’t popped that question yet.
Here’s the problem.
I cannot make up my mind on how to do this indelible act. It’s not because I lack imagination. Not at all. I’ve spent the last eleven years thinking up ways for my characters to propose to their soulmates. I’ve planned and executed—at least on the page—nearly three dozen wedding proposals.