AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I always hoped I’d marry Alba Hernandez, but I could never have pictured it like this. Not in the secret cave in Sweet Cherry Cove, with only our two closest friends from town to witness. Not with the muted roar of the waterfall as the only music we need.
Sunshine spills through the crack in the rock overhead, and somewhere out there, far overhead, wheeling seagulls call to each other.
“Do you, Dalton Meadows, take this woman…”
I sure as hell do—and her baby bump, too. Maybe it’s nontraditional for the bride to look like she’s smuggling a melon under her white sundress, but hey. We wasted eight years already. We’re not wasting any more time.
Lindsay, the receptionist from Daybreak Inn, sniffles loudly and dabs her eyes from her spot by the plunge pool. She takes full credit for our union, even though the whole damn thing was my idea.
She’s a good friend, though. And we’re gonna decimate her honeymoon suite later.
“And do you, Alba Hernandez, take this man…”
Andre, the chef from the Rockin’ Rockpool diner steps forward with the rings. We’ve grown close over the last year, bonding over our unspoken agreement that pining is the worst. Of course, I won my girl over in the end. Whereas Andre…
Well. It’s a work in progress.
“I do,” Alba says, brown eyes twinkling at me as she smiles. My heart gives an almighty thump, and Lindsay blows her nose with a loud hoot.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
About. Goddamn. Time.
* * *
Thanks for reading Rock God! I hope you liked it :)
For the pining chef’s story, check outChef’s Kiss!It’s bad enough writing to an agony aunt about my crush. Then my brother reads it aloud in a bar.
And for a bonus instalove story, grab your copy ofRide or Die.She’s sweet and innocent—and that’s like catnip in this strip club. It’s okay, though. I won’t let the pretty bartender out of my sight.
Happy reading!
xxx
Teaser: Chef’s Kiss
It feels weird, when I finally emerge from the bathroom, that the bar is exactly as I left it. The crowd is still loud, the music hums from the speakers, and the air is hot and humid. Dropped beer mats litter the floor.
Over the last twenty minutes, I’ve had an inner earthquake. My whole world has shattered, then been hastily glued back together. Meanwhile, The Buccaneer and its patrons are completely unchanged.
Rude.
Seems like the least the universe could do is throw out a mini tornado or something. A tiny storm to represent my turmoil. Nothing dangerous, you know, with zero property damage, but… a mess. A big ol’ mess. Seems only fair.
“Let’s read another one,” Stephen says as I return to the bar, forcing myself not to stare at my crush where he leans nearby. But it’s no use: even out of the corner of my eye, Andre is magnificent. His bicep bulges as he lifts his glass; his strong throat works as he swallows. Those worn jeans cling to his thighs, and even leaning, he’s so tall and broad. Gah.
“Dear Hattie,” Stephen begins, his voice booming into the crowd. I turn to ice, frost creeping through my veins, because my older brother is holding my phone aloft, reading from the lit up screen. Is this a nightmare? Am I dreaming?
“What’s this?” I dare a glance at Andre, but he looks relaxed as he shrugs. He wouldn’t be so casual if he’d heard my letter, would he?
“Some advice column. You missed a few already. There was one letter from a woman who wanted a commitment ceremony with her parrot.”
“Huh.”
Was the parrot lady above or below my letter? Did Stephen scan over it already and declare it too boring?
Oh my god. I need to pee again. I need to fling myself into the sea.
