Read the book: «The Unexpected Wedding Guest»
“Surprised to see me?”
Getting caught in her wedding dress by her drop-dead-gorgeous ex-husband is Reese Michael’s worst nightmare. Especially when her perfect-on-paper fiancé then cancels their wedding!
Reese has spent years trying to forget how her marriage to Mason Hicks crashed and burned—yes, their chemistry was incredible, but a girl can’t live on lust alone! And what’s a jilted bride supposed to do when the one man she could never forget is back in her life, as irresistible as ever? Mason might be her own personal brand of Kryptonite, but surely life is meant to be lived a little dangerously…?
Look out for the second book in The Wedding Season quartet, Girl Least Likely to Marry.
‘Surprised to see me, Park Avenue?’
The familiar, sexy rumble and the nickname added to the surreal nature of being transported back ten years in time when she had laughingly told Mason her college roommates’ nickname for her, Park Avenue Princess. And then he’d made the name his own, dropping the princess part. Which for some strange reason had pleased her no end.
But she was not pleased to see Mason.
Days away from her wedding.
Reese gritted her teeth, struggling to retain her cool as the anger finally built high enough to surpass every other emotion—shock, doubt and dread, just to name a few. Why was he coming to see her again? After ten years, why now? Right when all of her dreams were finally about to come true.
Her chest pinched, making breathing more difficult. Bad enough he had to still look good, now the unwanted memories invaded. Memories of Mason making love to her. The incredibly intense state of happiness they’d achieved, right before it had all been blown to hell. Correction, right before Mason had blown it all to hell.
Remember, Reese. Never again.
Dear Reader,
When I first spoke with my lovely editor about THE WEDDING SEASON, I was thrilled with the idea of participating in a continuity that follows four college roommates as they rediscover their friendship and fall in love with their perfect match. Of course, there was no way I was going to pass on the opportunity to work with three wonderful authors whom I’d met and whose work I adore. And the fun we had creating the characters for these stories? Bonus! Reese wouldn’t have been the same without Cassie, Gina and Marnie in her life.
I truly hope you enjoy THE WEDDING SEASON as much as I’ve enjoyed working on this collaboration.
Aimee
The Unexpected Wedding Guest
Aimee Carson
The summer she turned eleven, AIMEE CARSON left the children’s section of the library and entered an aisle full of Mills & Boon® novels. She promptly pulled out a book, sat on the floor and read the entire story. It has been a love affair that has lasted over thirty years.
Despite a fantastic job working part-time as a physician in the Alaskan Bush (think Northern Exposure and ER, minus the beautiful mountains and George Clooney), she also enjoys being at home in the gorgeous Black Hills of South Dakota, riding her dirt bike with her three wonderful kids and beyond-patient husband. But, whether at home or at work, every morning is spent creating the stories she loves so much. Her motto? Life is too short to do anything less than what you absolutely love. She counts herself lucky to have two jobs she adores, and incredibly blessed to be a part of Mills & Boon’s family of talented authors.
This and other titles by Aimee Carson are available in eBook format—check out
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To my colleagues and friends at the
Yukon Kuskokwim Health Corporation who, day
after day, battle geographical challenges and
unforgiving elements to provide care to the
wonderful people of the Yukon Kuskokwim Delta.
teaser
THE WEDDING SEASON
continues this month with Cassie’s story in
Girl Least Likely to Marry by Amy Andrews
Don’t miss Gina’s and Marnie’s stories, out next month!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago
Hillbrook University Campus, upstate New York
“I can’t believe this is our last night together as roomies,” Reese Michaels said as she shifted in her chair on the back porch of the house, feeling restless.
Surrounded by her three roommates, she stared out at Hillbrook College’s track field and the rolling hills beyond, countless variations of green lit by the late-afternoon sun. Hyacinths in bold yellows and pinks and purples dotted the yard, the air infused with the clean scent of spring in upstate New York. Everything was new. Changing. As was her life. And not just because the Awesome Foursome, as their neighbors had dubbed them, were going their separate ways.
The gloomy thought was pushed aside as a nervous excitement bubbled up, and she longed to share the news with her friends. The news that she and Mason had secretly spent this morning applying for a marriage license...
“At least we have our road trip to look forward to,” Marnie drawled, the blonde’s every word infused with a hint of the South. “But, Reese, we never would have forgiven you if you hadn’t made it back for tonight’s last hurrah in the house.”
“Though we do understand why you’ve been so busy with that gorgeous Marine of yours,” Gina said with a shrewd smile.
A familiar feeling settled low in Reese’s stomach—a funny combination of heat and expectant anticipation that left her heart trying to outdo its previous record. Every time Mason crossed her mind, which was pretty much every 2.5 seconds, that same sensation rolled through her chest. Making her feel happy and hopeful and hungry to hold him again. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Look at her,” Gina went on, her British accent infused with delight. “She’s positively glowing.”
Pleased her happiness showed, Reese opened her mouth to blurt out her secret, but Marnie spoke first.
“If you ask me, I think y’all are getting too hot and heavy too fast, honey,” Marnie said.
The words pricked Reese’s happy bubble, and she snapped her lips shut.
Gina shot Marnie an overly tolerant look. “Most women aren’t saving themselves for marriage.”
Marnie tucked her hair behind her ear. “There is nothing wrong with saving yourself for marriage.”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” Gina said before lifting a brow dryly. “But there’s plenty that isn’t right.”
With a sigh, Reese listened as they continued the year-old argument. Sweet, Southern, fair-headed Marnie versus cynical, sexy, dark-headed Gina. And then there was plain, practical Cassie, the Australian astronomy student who was too intelligent, too engrossed in trying to discover the secrets of the cosmos to let a mere man occupy any of her time.
Tell them, Reese. Just tell them you’re getting married in a few days.
Maybe she should spring the news gently. Ease them into the idea.
Bracing for the response, hoping for the best, Reese tested the waters. “Mason is The One.”
Of that she was quite sure.
A stunned silence was followed by a chorus of groans, but she refused to cringe at the naive-sounding statement.
“Oh puh-lease, pass the puke bucket.” Gina rolled her eyes in her trademark way. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, Reese,” she said. “You don’t actually believe those chick flicks you like to watch, do you?”
Reese fought to keep her disappointment from showing. Of the three women, Reese had thought Gina, at least, would offer support.
“There’s no way you could have fallen in love with him at first sight. Lust definitely,” Gina went on. “But not love.”
Reese twirled the stem of her empty champagne flute, her voice soft. “But I did.”
Ever the sensible one, Cassie, stared at her, her Aussie accent thick. “But how much can you know about each other after only one week?”
With a frustrated frown, Reese tucked her feet under her legs. She knew it didn’t make sense. She knew it was crazy.
But eight days ago she’d settled on the bar stool next to Mason in that mom-and-pop diner in Brooklyn and been instantly transfixed. Not by the chiseled chest and arms, the handsome face, or the brown hair with the adorable cowlick. She blamed the beautiful hazel gaze lit with mischief and cocky arrogance. Radiating confidence. One look and she’d just...known.
Her heart had checked out and there was no hope for a return.
It didn’t matter who he was or what he did for a living. It didn’t matter that her parents would hate him for...well, everything. Daring to be from a run-down neighborhood in New Jersey. Daring to be a lowly grunt in the Marines. And daring to steal the heart of the daughter they’d slotted for the perfect match since infancy, like some ridiculous children’s princess movie.
“In a world with billions of people,” Cassie went on with a logical tone, “meeting The One is a statistical improbability.”
“I have to agree with the supergeek here,” Gina said with a tip of her head toward Cassie. “You’ve met one of The Many, Reese. Mason is a hottie, but you’ve simply fallen victim to your libido. Still—” Gina smiled, clearly oblivious to Reese’s sinking heart “—I say enjoy the shagging while it lasts.”
Needing a moment to regroup, hoping to figure out how to share her news, Reese stood and picked up the empty champagne bottle. “You have sex on the brain, Gina,” she said as she headed for the kitchen.
“Exactly,” Gina called after her. “So when you come back, we want details.”
Heat flushed up Reese’s face as the back door closed behind her, because the details would be juicy indeed. She certainly was enjoying every moment she spent in Mason’s bed, but their relationship was so much more than physical. Because Mason had changed her for the better.
Her nineteenth-century history professor didn’t intimidate her anymore, her mother’s overbearing phone calls were easier to endure and her future felt bright, instead of daunting.
Reese pulled a bottle of champagne from the stainless steel refrigerator and tossed a popcorn bag into the microwave, turning it on. As the popping sounds slowly increased in frequency, she chewed on her lower lip, remembering their scoffing reaction to her claim that Mason was The One.
Their insistence she was blinded by great sex.
So, okay, maybe it had been difficult leaving Mason’s bed early this morning for the long commute back to Hillbrook. Especially after he’d sneaked up behind her, slipping those muscular arms around her hips. As soon as he’d pulled her against that well-honed, boot-camp trained body, she’d been a goner. The tiny kitchen in his New Jersey hole-in-the-wall apartment barely contained room enough to think. But Reese didn’t care, because it was Mason’s. He’d slid those calloused fingers around her waist, one hard hand heading north, and the other south....
Instantly compliant, she’d arched her back and given herself over to his plans, her history final the furthest thing from her mind. The fiercely intense way he took her left her both shattered and reborn. Every single time. And so high on life, on love, if she sold the emotion on the steps of the UN building, world peace would be all but secured. So when Mason had asked her to marry him, she’d said yes.
Marrying Mason would be the easy part.
Telling her family and friends would be hard.
The scent of scorched popcorn brought her back to the present, and she rescued the bag, dumping the contents into a bowl. One arm around the container, she grabbed the champagne and headed out the back door. As she stepped out onto the deck overlooking the beautiful yard, the men’s track team now gathering on the field beyond, she caught the end of Marnie’s statement.
“It’s going to be a gorgeous wedding,” the blonde drawled.
Reese’s heart stumbled. “Whose wedding?” she said as she crossed back to the three women.
Gina’s British accent was heavily marked with sarcasm. “Marnie’s big brother, Carter, to that sweet little Southern cookie of his.” She rescued the bottle from Reese’s arm, as if desperate for a drink. “What took you so long?” Gina said with a faint scowl. “And how can people be so stupid as to get married at our age?”
Reese blinked, stunned into silence.
Cassie, her eyes far too intelligent and serious, wrinkled her nose. “You burned the popcorn.”
Or maybe the scorched scent was coming from Reese’s brain as she furiously scrambled for another approach to share her plans. Because how was she supposed to deliver her news now that Gina had declared the idea of marriage at their age ridiculous? Gina opened the champagne and refilled their glasses as Reese collapsed onto the chair, setting the bowl on the table surrounded by her friends.
“So many gorgeous men,” Gina said, eyes on the male runners preparing for practice. A collection of long, lean legs stretched...muscles and sinew rippling, tanned skin gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. “So many reasons to shag them and then forget about them.”
Which, even coming from Gina was a bit too much.
Reese narrowed her eyes at Gina. “What has gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing.” Gina slumped deeper into her chair.
“Admit it, Gina,” Marnie said to the brunette. “The reason you chose to room with us is because Reese’s house has a front row view of the athletic field.”
“Too right. I love our nightly bitch sessions on the porch.” Gina popped a kernel into her mouth, making a face. “Charred popcorn and Dom Pérignon,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what kind of wedding you’ll throw one day, Reese.”
Reese’s heart twisted tight. Did a stand up quickie in front of the justice of the peace count? Probably not.
But Gina, lovely cynical Gina, only made it worse when she said, “And since you’re the only Park Avenue Princess among us—and I for one never plan to tie myself to just one man—I’m going to have to get my wedding fix through you. So it’d better be fab.”
Reese coughed on her champagne. “The ceremony isn’t important, only the man. I’ll be happy with a simple wedding.”
The disbelieving laughs from her friends weren’t encouraging. Did they really think she was so shallow?
“Please. Most students live in a dorm or an apartment. Your parents bought a beautiful house for you on campus,” Gina said.
“And provided a maid service,” Cassie said.
“Exactly,” Gina said. “So you know they’ll throw a wedding that will outdo the Royal Family.”
“Honey, you might be obsessed with Mason now,” Marnie added, her Southern roots drawing out the last word. “But you know you’ll marry some high-powered Wall Street figure your Mom and Dad approve—”
“No,” Reese said, so firmly the three women looked at her in surprise.
She waited a moment before going on, hoping to emphasize her point. The point being that her upbringing was irrelevant, despite what her friends said.
“When I say I do, it will be for love.” Reese forced herself to rein in the intensity of her voice. “And it will be forever,” she said, fingering the dog tags hidden beneath her blouse.
Mason had placed them around her neck this morning, telling her to think of him until they met up again at the city clerk’s office. And the plain chain that bore the metal with Mason’s name was more precious to her than any five-carat diamond engagement ring. Or even the Tiffany emerald necklace her parents had given her on her birthday.
Her parents.
Reese’s fingers clamped around the dog tags. “When I get married,” she went on, “money and status won’t be a consideration.”
Gina hiked a skeptical brow. “Have you told your mom and dad this?”
“I’m nineteen years old,” Reese said, abandoning her plans of sharing her secret. “I don’t need permission to marry.” Pushing aside her worries, she raised her glass and changed the subject again. “To our last night as roomies.”
Faces instantly gloomy, they lifted their drinks in response, and affection pinched her chest.
“You know I love you guys, right?” Reese met their gazes. She knew they’d forgive her for keeping her secret until she was officially Mrs. Mason Hicks. “So this isn’t the end of the Awesome Foursome,” she said, too full of hope not to smile. “This is just the beginning.”
ONE
Ten Years Later
Bellington Estate, the Hamptons
Reese stood on the small platform in the elegant sitting room furnished in eighteenth-century antiques, smoothing her hands down the satin. The wedding gown fit her waist just right, hugging her body to her hips before flaring in a dreamy swirl of tulle that floated to the floor, one hundred yards total. She had only one issue with the dress, and, unfortunately, the problem was getting bigger. Or technically, smaller. With a frown, she reached into her strapless bodice and adjusted her right breast.
“Don’t bother.” Amber met her gaze in the full-length mirror, her words muffled by the pins in her mouth, her hands fingering the bodice at the seam. “We need cream puffs.”
With a sigh, Reese dropped her hand to her side, staring at her reflection. Proof positive that God was indeed male. Because there could be no justice in a world that declared a woman must lose weight in her boobs first.
“Is that the best my seamstress, bridesmaid and future sister-in-law can come up with?” She sent Amber a dry look. “Your breasts are shrinking so bring on the cream puffs?”
The redhead’s face flushed with pleasure. “Your brother and I aren’t engaged.”
“Yet,” Reese said with a smile.
Amber removed the pins from her mouth. “We’re here to talk about your wedding,” she said. “And at this rate, you won’t have anything left to fill out your dress. Do you want the bodice looking like the empty bucket of a bulldozer as you make your way up the aisle?”
Her friend stabbed a pin through the fabric under Reese’s left arm before she went on. “I told you to stop stressing about the wedding and let the event planner do her thing.”
“She’s driving me crazy.”
“You hired her to do a job,” Amber said as she continued to work, her voice firm. “So let her do it.”
“But she keeps forgetting it’s my wedding,” Reese said. “Why else would she act as if she has such a vested interest in the bride and groom’s first dance?” She blew out a breath. “I swear I spend more time defending my choices to her than anything else.”
Amber shot her a concerned look. “Keep this frantic pace up and I’ll be altering this dress the day of your wedding. Which, I might add—” she jabbed the last pin into place “—is only six days away.”
The knot of anticipation tightened in Reese’s belly. Six days to ensure every detail was just right. But as she stared out of the second-floor window at the manicured grounds of Bellington Estate—grounds that included several formal gardens—a sense of peace rolled through her body. June in the Hamptons was gorgeous. Spring showers had done beautiful things to the one hundred acres that surrounded the twenty-five-bedroom, historical home, the closest thing to a castle that Reese could find.
The perfect place for her fairy-tale wedding.
But it wasn’t the antique-adorned rooms, the priceless artwork, or the towering stone turrets that had sold her on the location. Yes, the grounds were perfect for an outdoor wedding reception. Yes, the restaurant-quality kitchen had a walk-in freezer capable of housing as many ice carvings as she wanted, personally inspected and approved by the sculptor located half a state away. But what convinced her to book the wedding here was the stately feel, the sense of serenity that Bellington Estate brought. It had been worth the two-year engagement to Dylan.
The right location for the right wedding to the right man.
Satisfaction swelled, and she let out a contented breath. It certainly beat an impulsive ceremony in a county courthouse. The swirl of roller-coaster, nauseating excitement. And a cocky Mason in his military fatigues, his feet shifting impatiently as they stood before the judge. Reese in her simple sundress...
Anger and hurt rose up, as familiar as her own reflection, and she pressed her lips flat, shoving the ten-year-old memory aside. That was then, and this was now. Dylan made her happy. He made her laugh. They were a great team, not only professionally in her position as chairman of fundraising for The Brookes Foundation, his family’s charitable organization, but personally, as well. They rocked the compatibility charts in every way.
Dylan deserved a beautiful wedding. After all these years, she deserved one.
Reese glanced back at her bodice and tried to shift her left breast higher, hoping to fill the gap.
“Rearranging them isn’t going to help. The girls are looking a little malnourished.”
The male voice slid through her consciousness, triggering long-suppressed emotions that came bubbling up like an ominous ooze. Her heart set up house in her throat, making speech impossible, and Reese slowly removed her hand from her bodice. Shifting her gaze in the mirror, she took in the lean, muscular form lazing against the doorjamb. The familiar potent power and arrogance were not lost in the reflection as, arms crossed, Mason Hicks met her eyes in the mirror.
Reese blinked, hoping the figure staring back at her was a trick of her imagination, the voice emanating from inside her head. Visual and auditory hallucinations would be most welcome in comparison. There were treatments for those, but all the medication in the world couldn’t see her through a visit from Mason. And the intensely curious look on Amber’s face was proof positive that her ex-husband was indeed...here.
“Girls?” Reese repeated, feeling stupid.
“Puppies,” he said. His thickly fringed, hazel eyes were lit with mischief as he crossed the room in her direction. And every footstep ratcheted her heart rate higher. “Bazookas.”
His disturbing gaze grew closer, and, just like when they first met, elicited the same burning low in her gut. His chest looked as cut as ever beneath his military, olive green T-shirt. And pretty soon he was standing next to her, near enough to smell his musky, masculine scent. Close enough to touch.
And her expression must have remained as blank as her brain.
“Boobs,” he clarified.
The word finally shattered the trance, the same sensual web the man had magically spun so many years ago. But she was older now.
Wiser.
She narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to continue with his man-thesaurus listing of names for the female anatomy. Instead, he took the direct approach.
“Last time I saw you, your breasts were bigger,” he said. “I think a few cream puffs are definitely in order.”
“See, the man agrees with me,” Amber said, eyeing Mason with interest. “At least have a little ice cream, Reese.”
Mason’s lips tipped up at one corner. “She loves crème brûlée.”
“Topped with caramel topping,” Amber added, returning the smile.
Mason turned his attention back to Reese, and looked at her as if she was incapable of intelligent speech. No need to wonder why.
“Surprised to see me, Park Avenue?” The familiar, sexy rumble and the nickname added to the surreal nature of being transported back in time when she had laughingly told Mason her college roommates’ nickname for her, Park Avenue Princess. And then he’d made the name his own, dropping the princess part. Which for some strange reason had pleased her to no end.
But she was not pleased to see Mason.
Days away from her wedding.
Reese gritted her teeth, struggling to retain her cool as the anger finally built high enough to surpass every other emotion—shock, doubt and dread, just to name a few. Why was he coming to see her again? After ten years, why now? Right when all of her dreams were finally about to come true.
And since her appetite had been suffering from the stress of the planning, her chest shrinking, it only seemed fair his muscles should have gone soft, as well. Less sharply defined. Less capable of reaching out to the very core of what attracted a woman to a man.
Strength. Power. And a raw masculinity.
She forced her voice to remain smooth. “And the last time I saw you, you were dodging the dog tags I hurled at you.”
“Your aim was good.”
Quirking her lips dryly, she said, “I should have used your baseball bat.”
“It still made a nice punctuation mark for your demand for a divorce.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Claimed irreconcilable differences, if I remember right.”
She tipped her chin higher. “Temporary insanity was more like it.”
“A lust-induced state of insanity.” Heat flushed through her like a flash fire, though he steadily held her gaze. His expression more reflective than affected, he murmured, “A drug, that.”
Her chest pinched, making breathing more difficult. Bad enough he had to still look good, now the unwanted memories invaded. Memories of Mason making love to her. The incredibly intense state of happiness they’d achieved, right before it had all been blown to hell. Correction, right before Mason had blown it all to hell.
Remember, Reese. Never again.
Never again.
“The sex wasn’t a drug,” she said, though, at the time, she’d thought the same thing. But God knows she’d learned her lesson the hard way. She was no longer susceptible to the whims of her hormones. “It was quicksand.”
And just as deadly to her peace of mind. Her sanity.
He hiked a brow and studied her a moment more. “Maybe,” he said softly, his lips curling at the edges. “But what a way to go.”
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, but not nearly as loud as Reese’s thumping heart. She smoothed a damp palm down her dress, and shifted her gaze back to Amber, who was looking incredibly entertained. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I’m done here anyway,” Amber said. “I’m supposed to head back to the city to meet Parker for lunch.”
“Then go,” Reese said. “I’ll ask Ethel to help me out of the dress.”
She certainly wasn’t going to ask her ex to unbutton her gown.
The redhead’s eyes lingered curiously as she passed by Mason, but Reese couldn’t blame her. Mason exuded a barely restrained energy that underscored the kind of training that meant, when bad things happened, this was the guy who could take care of the problem. But as a husband, he was guaranteed to let you down.
Bracing herself, she turned to face her ex. “I’m sure you’re not here to discuss my bra size.”
“Nope,” he said. “Though I do find the topic fascinating. What are you now?” He hooked a finger in her bodice, just to the left of her breast—the touch sending a sensual shock that left her briefly paralyzed—testing the fit. “B cup?”
She refused to let him see how he affected her. “It’s none of your business.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he said easily.
Their gazes locked, seconds ticked by in which she felt overwhelmed, over her head. Drowning in Mason’s presence. Just like she had as a young university student. All from the smoldering hazel eyes and the simple masculine finger barely brushing against her skin. And he wasn’t even touching anything vital.
Quicksand. He’s quicksand, Reese.
And for some ridiculous reason she had the intense urge to explain, which made her even angrier.
“You met me while I was a stupid college kid,” she said. “A naive junior who was still lugging around her freshman weight and her romantic ideals.”
Turns out the romantic ideals had been easy to lose, dropped like a stone during her year of marriage.
The disturbing finger finally pulled away, and Reese’s taut muscles relaxed a fraction. Until Mason dropped his hand to the satin at her waist, as if testing its size. “Those extra pounds looked good on you.”
Heart tapping loudly, she stared at him and schooled her features into an expression of nonchalance. She would not let him know how disturbed she was by his presence.
“I liked your hourglass figure.” His hazel eyes skimmed her body. There was no lurid component to the look, just a note of concern. “Now you look more like a half-hourglass.”
Reese fisted her hand, refusing to take the bait. He was trying to get a reaction from her. But she would not play into his plans.
His brow crinkled in doubt as he fingered the netting at her thighs. “And the dress is a bit much, don’t you think?”
The intricate beading on the bodice was beautiful, though the tulle skirt was fuller than she’d intended, floating around her legs like an ethereal dream. But the gown made her feel beautiful. Made her feel special. Just like Dylan did.
In the end, Mason had made her feel like dirt.
“In light of what you wore to our wedding...” He rubbed the netting between his fingers and frowned, and there was a thoughtful curiosity to his expression. “I wonder if maybe you’re overcompensating.”
Anger surged, and she brushed his hand away, ignoring the sparks that arced up her arm. Her body was simply reacting to the memories. They had nothing to do with the man himself.
Reese turned to face him, braced for the battle ahead. “Trust me, Mason,” she said firmly. “Our disastrous marriage was not on my mind when I chose this dress.” Bad enough she had a wedding planner that questioned her every decision—now she had to defend her choices to her ex-husband? “You need to leave now.”
“But I just got here.”
“Well, I have a wedding coming up. And I don’t have time for your pathology.”
The free excerpt has ended.
