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“Dad, can’t underwear lady just stay here with us?”
“No!” Goldilocks and Declan said in unison before turning back to glare at each other.
“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving. And expect a horrible review on Airbnb,Finn,” she hissed out.
She stomped past him, leaving him standing in the kitchen as what she said hit him.
Finn. Oh no.
He dialed his brother, but before Finn could say hello he snapped out, “Why is there a crazy chick in my house?”
“How would I know? Why would you invite a ball bunny on your trip to Florida with Chris?”
“I’m at the cabin in New York.”
“Oh—well—then maybe Icouldanswer that.” Finn chuckled.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
* * *
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Goldilocks and the Grumpy Bear
BECOMING AN EVANS SERIES
Want to fall in love with a big
meddling amazing family?
Check out Marc and Beth’s story.
www.jennibara.com
MORE THAN THE GAME
CHAPTER 1
@EdwardDCampbell: As we celebrate all the mothers in our lives, I want to say thanks to my wife for beingthe best mom to the most precious gifts you ever gave me- our girls
* * *
Someone calling Beth’s dad a liar on Twitter was nothing new. However, any of the Evans brothers doing it was the type of drama she always tried to avoid.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, the group text with her late husband’s brothers blowing up over a screenshot of a tweet her dad didn’t even personally write. Beth rolled her eyes at the second screenshot, which highlighted how many likes the tweet had. Then she fired off a message telling the Evans brothers she didn’t care if her father got a few hundred thousand likes, they still could not retweet him and call him out for being an awful father.
Beth didn’t use Twitter, but she got updates from the Evans siblings group chat. Her famous father, however, tweeted regularly. He was already tweeting about Mother’s Day, which was two days away, and her mother’s Instagram page was popping with new pictures daily. But she stayed away from all social media platforms like a person with a severe tree nut allergy would avoid a cashew.
Before she got a reply to her message, her three-year-old daughter Mandy pushed the jumper seat like a swing, sending the toddler she was babysitting flying back and forth in it.
“Mandy, please stop,” Beth yelled over her shoulder, grabbing the seat in one hand and stopping her nephew from spilling his cup of juice with the other. She glanced back at the dishwasher as it beeped, and saw that it was flashingERR.
A broken dishwasher was the last thing she needed today, but life had a way of always handing her precisely what she didn’t want.
“Snake in the grass,” she mumbled under her breath—the closest she ever got to cursing—when the dishwasher refused to restart. It just sat there, silently mocking her.
As a single mother of two and currently a babysitter of five, the dirty dishes piled up fast. And shehateddoing dishes.
