Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I merely give her hand a squeeze as we start walking.
“It’s fine, Melly,” I soothe. “Your dad’s just a little busy right now, but he’ll come out as soon as his work lets up.”
The little girl nods, satisfied for the moment, but inside, I wonder if my words are actually true because Amelia’s right. Since arriving yesterday in Bermuda, Rick’s been locked away in his room, appearing only for rushed meals in the living area of our suite. It’s a little sad, really, because we can hear him barking on the phone behind the closed door, and it seems as if he’s under a lot of pressure at work. Then again, I don’t know, and it’s not my place to ask either.
Squeezing Melly’s hand once more, I lead the little girl out to the beach surrounding our hotel. The Rosewood is gorgeous, and it’s really more of a resort than a hotel. The graceful pink building rises from its own spit of sand, and there are three pools, a spa, a sauna, two Jacuzzis, as well as multiple options for fine dining. There’s no need to leave because the resort takes care of literally everything, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people never step foot off the premises.
But this afternoon, Amelia and I will be enjoying the small patch of beach outside our bungalow. There are a few private bungalows for the hotel’s VIP guests, and of course Mr. Patton made sure to book one. The little girl and I set our things down under a big umbrella in the sand, and then I help carry her shovel and bucket near the edge of the water. Within moments, Amelia begins to dig with the energy and enthusiasm that only a six-year-old can muster. Soon, she’s got a good-sized hole in the sand going, although I’m not sure what my small charge is looking for, exactly.
Smiling, I make my way back to the lounge chairs and take a seat. Ah, this is the life. A balmy breeze blows over my skin, and the shade of the umbrella provides respite from the bright sunlight. I loosen my sarong to reveal a hot pink bikini underneath, and sigh ruefully. My breasts are spilling out of the triangle tops, and the bottoms are barely staying on because my belly’s straining at the waistband. Heck, it’s not even a waistband anymore. My stomach protrudes, loud and proud, and my tiny bottoms are reduced to a mere triangle beneath the largesse. Most ladies don’t show in their first trimester, but I’m one of the ones who does.
But it is what it is, and I’ve enjoyed my pregnancy so far. I haven’t had a bit of nausea at all, and if anything, I feel like I’m practically bursting with health. My skin has a glowy sheen to it, and my curls have never been so springy and full. With another giggle, I adjust my bikini and then lean back with a paperback in hand, making sure to keep an eye on Amelia at the same time.
Ah, this book is very interesting. It’s the latest bestseller romance about a woman who entraps a rakish Duke. I’ve always loved Johanna Hansen’s Regency romances, and this one is especially dirty with its X-rated scenes. Soon, our handsome Duke has the heroine’s knickers off, and he’s boning her in the library of his castle. But he’s not just boning her the normal way – he’s giving it to her in the ass for the first time, and of course, our innocent-but-actually-slutty heroine loves it.
What would it be like to be one of those ladies? I wonder. The ones who wear big ballgowns and try to come off as virgins, when really, they’re having sex with all sorts of gentlemen high and low. I’d certainly love it, although of course, women of that era were incredibly repressed. With a rueful smile, I put my book down and call to Amelia. The little girl looks up and then comes trotting over, her blonde curls bouncing.
“What book is that?” she asks innocently, staring at the cover. Fortunately, there’s only a picture of a lily on the front, and no Fabio-like model with his chest bare and a woman swooning in his arms.
“It’s a book about a girl named Lily,” I say in a normal tone, as if I have nothing to hide.
“Oh, I have a friend named Lily,” says Amelia smartly. “And her sister is named Rose.”
“Do they have a brother too?” I ask.
“Oh no,” Amelia replies. “But I wonder what they would name him if they did? Weeds? Bushes?”
“Or how about Tree?” I ask in jest. The little girl overflows with giggles, and soon, we order lunch before she falls asleep on the lounge chair next to me. I adjust the umbrella to make sure the little darling’s shaded, and then resume reading my book. Wow, just being in Bermuda is so different from life in New Jersey. Amelia and I have only been at the beach about an hour, and yet, it feels as if time has crawled to a halt. It’s as everything’s moving in slow-motion, as comfort and happiness unspool before us in a never-ending thread.