Page 152 of Finding Our Reality

Ry stops breathing. His jaw falls open. He looks at my stomach, examining me like he has X-ray vision. “A boy? We’re having a boy?”

“Yes.”

He tosses his hands in the air, screaming. He screams so loud that two deputies walking out of the station look over, checking to see if they’re needed. I’ve seen them both around. Laughing, I wave them away.

Finding out the sex of our baby has been a hotly contested topic. I wanted it to be a surprise; Ry wanted to know. This morning, when I woke up, I decided I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called the doctor’s office right when they opened to find out justwhoour love had made.

Wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, Ry kisses me. He steals my thoughts from my brain and my life from my soul. This kiss is everything I love. The taste of his tongue. The scratch of his five-day stubble. The press of his body against mine. It’s my home.

He’s my home.

He’s my reality.

And Reality reminds you where you belong.

Not ready to say goodbye to Ella and Crutch? Good… you don’t have to. Follow the rest of their journey in the next installment of The Hill Family. It’s time for Holt Hill, former football star, to get his happy-ever-after.

To be continued in…

The Skeptic’s Playbook: The Skeptic’s Duet Book One

Coming Early 2025!

Keep reading for a Blurb, Prologue, and Chapter One Sneak Peek.

The Skeptic’s Playbook: The Skeptic’s Duet Book One

SNEAK PEEK

Merit

Growing up, my parents described me with four words: curious, fun-loving, silly, and accident-prone.

My husband used four very different words: prying, immature, uncouth, and irresponsible. I reckon that’s one of the reasons he isn’t my husband anymore.

And because of that, I’ve sworn off relationships. And dating. I spent years with someone who wanted to change me. Whodidchange me. Only an insane person would want that again.

But then I meethim. The famous Holt Hill. Whom I didn’t even know was famous. Well, he wants to date me. And he refuses to take no for an answer.

But why would he want me? I’m… normal. And he’s… not.

In fact, I watched a video clip where women—like a bunch of women, a whole herd of them—threw their panties at him during one of the Super Bowls.

Well, I happen to like my panties. Plus, panties cost money, so tossing them at some super-sexy, super-handsome, super-rich football player just seems like a waste.

Anyway, it’s all a moot point… because I don’t date.

Holt

I’m a love skeptic. Not of love, in general. I’ve borne witness to many great relationships in my life.

But it just so happens that none of those relationships involved me.

When I take stock of my dating history, I reckon the best romance was the imaginary one where a woman I’d never even met told the tabloids I was the father of her triplets. At least that started a new round of gossip about me having super sperm.

Women always want my fame, my wealth, my notoriety. That is, until I mether.

The second I met Merit, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’s gorgeous. And guarded.

---