Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Unless you end up married!
From The This is Series and the Southern Wedding series comes Meant For Love
Zoey
When I first met him, I got butterflies in my stomach.
I thought it was silly and pushed it aside. Avoided him.
Besides, I was taken—unavailable. Or so I thought.
That was before he hired me to take over his company’s PR.
Now that we were working with each other, that meant he was completely off-limits.
Until one night in Vegas.
Nash
They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Unless you ask the woman of your dreams to marry you while you are both drinking tequila.
And she says yes.
She thinks it’s a mistake.
She’s wrong.
Now I have ninety days to show her we’re meant for love.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
One
Nash
I push open the glass door and step out to the parking lot. The sun is slowly coming up. The waves crashing on the rocks not far away fill the quiet morning, along with the birds soaring in the cloudless sky. “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” I mumble as I walk toward my car, gym bag and protein shake in one hand. With my ringing phone in the other hand, I see it’s my brother Caine’s name flashing on the screen. The picture is of him glaring at the camera, wearing a tux, sitting on a stool—a beer in his hand taken at his wedding—when I answer. “Nash Griffin,” I mock him since that is the only way he answers his phone, which irritates the fuck out of me.
“He’s a comedian,” he says right away, picking up on the joke. “I thought I’d find you sleeping.”
“You thought wrong. I’m just leaving the gym,” I tell him, opening the trunk of the car before tossing my bag in and walking over to the driver’s door and opening it. Putting the phone on speaker, I start the car, and the Bluetooth picks up, but as soon as that happens, the FaceTime ring hits my phone.
He waits until he can see me before he talks. “You were just leaving the gym,” he says, his voice in disbelief, “it’s what… six o’clock there?” I see he’s sitting behind his desk at the office, suit jacket hanging already on the back of his chair, tie a little loose with one button open.
“Yup,” I confirm, putting on my sunglasses and exiting the parking lot. “Just a little after.”
“And you’re already done with your workout?” he asks, flabbergasted.
“We can’t all be going for the dad bod,” I joke with him, earning me one of his famous glares. “I was going to tell you when I saw you last that you’ve been letting yourself go.” I roll my lips because I know he’s going to come back and tell me to go fuck myself.
“Fuck you,” he hisses, his face coming so close to the phone it’s all I see, making me smile, knowing how well I know him. “I’d rather be home in bed with my wife than in a sweaty gym.”
“But the question is”—I look around as more cars enter the almost vacant parking lot, which won’t be like this for long—“would your wife want you to be in bed with her, or at the gym keeping that figure like it was when she fell in hate with you?” I laugh. When Grace and Caine first met, they loathed each other. More like my brother was a donkey who would say the wrong thing over and over again. I figured it out quickly. He did that because one, he was stupid, and two, he really, really liked her. She got under his skin like no one else. “So what’s the answer?”
“I’d rather him be in bed with me,” Grace’s voice chimes in, then she comes into the camera view, rounding the desk to stand next to him. He looks up at her with a smile, his hand going to wrap around her hips while she wraps her arm around his shoulders. “All day, every day.” She looks down at him with pure love written on her face.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite sister-in-law,” I say softly, her eyes flying back to the screen and she tilts her head to the side. “How’re you doing, sweetheart?”
“She’s doing fine,” Caine hisses, pulling her closer to his side, “and don’t talk like that to her, all smooth and shit. No one wants to hear that early in the morning. And especially don’t call her fucking sweetheart.”
“I don’t know. I can name a couple of women who would like me to call them sweetheart.” I chuckle while Caine groans, and Grace just shakes her head. “What are you guys doing calling me at six o’clock anyway?”
“You are almost always at your desk by six thirty,” Grace reminds me, “so thirty minutes isn’t much of a stretch.”
“A lot can happen in thirty minutes,” I point out, and it’s Grace’s turn to be the comedian.
“Not too much can happen in thirty minutes that most women remember.” Caine laughs out loud now, but not for long, when Grace turns her attention to him. “You remember that in the morning when you want to quickly get in there.”
“Burn,” I snap. “What I’m getting from this conversation is she’s not satisfied in the bedroom.” I make my way over to my office. “Caine, how does it make you feel that not only have you let yourself go but now you aren’t even satisfying your wife?”
The growl makes me laugh each time. “Can you be professional for once in your life?”
“Hey,” I say, “I answered the phone using my whole name.”