Page 92 of Rockstars, Babies & Happily Ever Afters: Vol. 1

He almost fell to his knees to offer up his sincere gratitude. Instead he walked around the car so they could hurry up and get to the last stop on today’s list.

So far being married was freaking fan-damn-tastic.

To be continued…

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GIFTED

Gifted takes placejustbefore Fused if you’re particular about timelines. You are our people. LOL!

Xoox,

Taryn & Cari

PARTI

PARTI

NICK

Christmas Eve

“I look like fucking Scrooge.”

Nick Crandall stared at himself in the mirror and rubbed his unusually scruffy jaw. His fine blondish-brown hair didn’t lend itself well to a beard. It was growing in, but the chin pubes look in the meantime wasn’t really cutting it. Especially on anyone past puberty.

Which he was. He was firmly in his mid-twenties, with all of the forthcoming mid-life crises and shit to look forward to.

Not that he was looking forward to much at the moment. He was officially in a holding pattern in more ways than one.

But he wasn’t thinking about any of that tonight. Or tomorrow. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that Christmas was going to grant him some kind of miracle and heal the fucked up mess that was his life. He hadn’t been a child for a long time. Still, he wasn’t going to spend another holiday sulking in a cloud of cigarette smoke. He’d had too many days like that in recent years, and it had gotten old.

He’d actually begun to hope that this year might be different. That perhaps he’d get to spend the holidays with his family—part of it anyway—and maybe even a girl.

Hisgirl. Even if she really wasn’t, he was good at pretending.

Then everything had imploded, and he still hadn’t begun to pick up all the pieces. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to.

He picked up the can of shaving cream and the straight razor and blew out a breath. Hipster lumberjack types might rock the bearded wonder deal, but he was a currently under-employed rock star.

Clean-shaven it was.

Half an hour later, newly de-bearded and clean in body if not mind, he climbed out of the shower. He quickly dried off and slung a towel around his waist, then opened the bathroom door and leaned out of the doorway. “Jazz, you around?”

She popped out of a bedroom at the other end of the hall, a dark-haired, chubby-faced baby swaddled in a blanket in her arms. He swore she never put that kid down for a second. “Shh. Baby’s sleeping.”

“He’s always sleeping. Damn kid’s a narcoleptic.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not even three months yet. Of course he sleeps a lot.”

“Just not at night.”

“Four letters for you. B-a-b-y.”

In spite of himself, he grinned. Jazz never let him give her—or her offspring—any shit. “I have four letters for you too. M-a-l-l.”

Jazz made a face. “What about the mall? It’s Christmas Eve. Only a lunatic would go shopping today.”

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