Epilogue
Six months later…
The breeze carried the gray clouds across the barely blue London skyline, allowing the sunshine to peek through and giving me an extra bounce in my step.
As I reached around to open the gate that often gave me fits, Nova spots a couple of swaying daisies. Fortunately for the both of us and Harriet’s flowers, I knew better than to let him have extra slack while anywhere near Harriett’s gorgeous front garden. The back garden, however, was game on, and I loved how everyone called their yards gardens here in England, no matter how rocky, grassy, or small.
I hear Virginia woof's excited bark, along with the squeal of Phoebe and Ollie, and anticipation quickened my steps. After a courtesy knock on the door of the cottage that had ivy climbing up the exterior brick wall and then let myself in as instructed, Nova trailing directly behind and occasionally in front, making walking through the house more of a challenge.
Graham’s mum, Belinda, was carrying a rattling tray of tea, with the kettle and tiny plates and cups and I rushed to help carry the load.
“Here, I’ll trade you,” I said, handing over Nova’s lead as Belinda bent in half to baby-talk my almost one-year-old boxer with affection. She could get Nova to listen where Graham and I failed, and I suspected her powers were in the ever-present string of pearls around her neck. After all, pearls symbolized wisdom and were linked to the moon, representing calm and feminine energy. “I’m assuming Graham’s already in the back garden with Ginny and the kids?”
“He was, dear, until I sent him off to the shop, but he should be back shortly.”
After spending the end of summer through the holidays in San Diego, Graham and I brought our brood to this side of the pond. We’d be here probably through the summer and into fall, as I’d told Graham, “Until I cry ‘Bob’s my uncle,’ it’s not warm enough for me anymore.”
“It’s in the states that you cry ‘uncle,” he’d informed me while driving us to a pub for fish and chips from the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road. “Bob’s your uncle is more like…‘easy-peasy,’ or ‘that’s that.’”
“Well, I’m going to use Uncle Bob anyway,” I’d replied, “so now you’ll know what I mean, and it’s you’d better hurry and get me to a beach—stat!”
“We have a beach in East London.”
“A real beach with sun and water you can actually go swimming in.”
“With poopy nappies for the dogs to munch on?” he’d snarked.
“Exactly,” I’d answered, but then on the drive home, I told him that the fish and chips almost made up for not having my beach.
While I was still adapting temperature-wise, getting faster with my conversions from Fahrenheit to Celsius. Let’s just say that when Graham told me it’d be a warm spring day, I’d calculated three different times because 18°C still only equaled 64°F, and that was still cold to this Southern Californian.
Originally when we’d discussed splitting our time between our two homes, I’d planned to bartend at a pub near Graham’s loft where I could walk, but my storefront and Etsy shop had really taken off. Enough so that I hired help for the shop. When I’d fretted over leaving my employees to run the place, Graham had asked if I was listening to my head or heart.
As if my heart could say anything but “all mine” anytime he was around.
Cool air filtered through the holes of my sweater as I carried the tray outside, holding the door open for Belinda and Nova. I set the tray on the circular table with wicker chairs and beam at Ollie and Phoebe when they come running to give hugs.
Phoebe is part koala, ringing my legs in both of her arms, in no hurry to let go.
Neither was I, so it worked.
“’ello, Zoie,” Harriet said, slinging an arm around my shoulder in a side hug and reminding me of the day I finally managed to orchestrate running into Graham so we could get started on this here adventure.
My heart quickened at the sound of a car engine, and I hold my breath and wait—there it was, the open and close of doors, first the vehicle and then the house.
Then he was pushing out the back door looking as sexy as ever, the ultra-colorful, reusable bag I bought for groceries dangling from his fist. “Everything is saved,” he said, lifting the bag higher. “I have the biscuits.”
“Cookies, you mean,” I automatically said, forgetting that here, I was in the minority.
“Zo, no dey biscuits,” Phoebe told me so earnestly, I nod.
Then I looked over her head and mouthed to Graham, They’re not.
He strode toward me, a mischievous smile curving a mouth I often dreamed about, whether it was speaking in that refined accent, kissing me breathless, or taking me to heaven with his tongue.
The doorbell rang, muffled by the house and doors between and setting off an alert on Harriet’s phone. “He’s here.”
She smoothed a hand down her hair and said, “Best behavior everyone. Nova, especially you.”
“Hey,” I said, even though I didn’t have a leg to stand on, and Nova would pounce and take me down to the ground for sloppy kisses if I did. But if her new bloke couldn’t understand my doggie was a beautiful disaster, how could he be with the kids?
Great, now I’m getting all overprotective, just liked I’d admonished the British man of my dreams not to be.
Too late now, as he and Harriet were entering the back yard—er, back garden—to meet the fam. “Everyone, this is James. James, everyone.” She went down the row, giving out our names one by one as we all welcomed him to our nippy afternoon tea.
They all had biscuits with their cuppa while I remained an island. Fortunately for me, an island of cookies was still a win, and the tea helped warm me from the inside out.
And when the sun disappeared behind the graying clouds that hinted at later rain, Graham wrapped me in a blanket on his lap, setting us up with a bucket of balls so we could play catch with the dogs.
The life I’d manifested stretched before me, filled with the happiness and acceptance I’d craved for so long. In some ways, it’d taken longer than expected, but in so many others…
As I glanced around at my found family, love, gratitude, and unadulterated bliss filled me bottom to the top. It intensified when Graham lifted our intwined hands to kiss the back of mine. “This amazing life we have,” I leaned in and whispered, “This is what happens when you listen to your heart.”
Thank you for reading MATCHMAKING: DOGGY-STYLE!
Check out the entire Meet-Cute Series, based on hilarious, often disastrous, first meetings.
BIG DICK ENERGY
Sick of being talked over and disregarded at work, I resolve to exude the same confidence as the males who perpetually get promoted over me. While honing my Big Dick Energy skills at a bar with my friends, I rebuff the advances of a man who embodies the definition. Hot. Cocky. Swagger for days. It’s a no from me, and his shock indicates he’s not often rejected.
The joke’s on me when I discover he’s my new business partner. After the months it took to land the account, I refuse to apologize to Archer York, backdown during meetings where we constantly clash, or do anything that’d make me seem weak—although my knees feel anything but strong around the guy. But as our frustrating encounters turn flirty, I wonder if it’d be so bad to throw decorum out the window and do what alpha guys do best—think with their dicks.
LOVE’S A GLITCH
YOU'VE GOT MAIL meets WHAT'S YOUR NUMBER when a phone update from hell results in a dating do-over, a wrong number that might just be the right one, and a battle between a web designer and her PITA client, who don’t realize they’ve been falling for one another—via text.
As a web designer, performing updates so I can enhance my texts with cute new emojis is a must. Only artificial intelligence went all Terminator on me, resending every message from the past year. So glad I got to relive my tumultuous online dating experiences, including drunk texting an ex who ghosted me.
Among the confused and disgruntled are a handful of nice replies, leaving me unsure if the tech gods are smiting or smiling down on me. I take it as a sign I should give my past guys another chance. Turns out, my drunken profession of lust went to some dude with a new number—Luke’s witty, has a sexy voice, and makes me LOL.
As I begin my adventures in re-dating, Luke demands updates, and before long I’m tempted to request a meetup. But he’s quickly hacking his way into my heart, and with the firewall around it crumbling, I’m afraid upgrading our virtual relationship will only result in a heartbreak IRL.
BANG BUDDIES WITH BENEFITS !
In the courtroom, I pride myself on how many times I can get the judge to bang the gavel and threaten me with contempt. Outside of work, I don’t have time for extra drama, which is why I’m perfectly happy with the no-strings arrangement I have with my bang buddy, Emmett.
Unfortunately, my old-school colleagues consider a single woman a risk and are dragging their feet to make me partner. In order to effectively smash the patriarchy and survive the summer of couple-type events, I could use a wingman. Since Emmett’s looking to get his meddling family off his back, we strike a deal involving plus-one benefits. At first, all we can agree on is that we’d never actually work as a couple. But discovery is an important part of every case, and the more I try to blow off our growing connection, the louder my heart yells “I object.”
For fans of alpha billionaires who think they’re unavailable until they meet the heroine, check out my super steamy romantic comedies FOREPLAY WITH THE BOSS and MASTER DEBATER .
If you’re looking for small town romances with a close group of friends that find themselves falling in love, check out the Getting Hitched Series : JUST ONE OF THE GROOMSMEN, ALWAYS A brIDESMAID, & CATCH AND RELEASE GROOM.
And if hockey romances that make you laugh and swoon are your thing, read GETTING LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN about a shy chemistry nerd who’s sick of spending her weekends studying with her cat and wants to check items off her bucket list with her hockey-playing guy friend Beck—starting with mind-blowing sex!