He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not: The Flower Shop Sisters のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (The Flower Shop Sisters Book 2)Published by Blue Violet Press LLCSeattle, WashingtonCopyright © 2019 by Iris MorlandCover design by Qamber DesignsAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Two days earlier…I cocked my head, squinting at the ice sculpture that sat in the middle of the expansive table.“Is that an ice penis?” I said.Laura, one of Jenna’s bridesmaids, moved more closely to the statue. It was so dim in the private room at the restaurant that neither of us could tell if the statue was actually endowed or not.“I think so, but it’s pretty small. It could also just be its balls,” said Laura.“Why would they sculpt a pair of balls but no penis?”Laura shrugged. “It’s Vegas. Don’t ask questions.” She flashed a smile. “If it has a dick, it’s currently melting off.”“Too bad that can’t happen to men in real life,” I muttered.Laura shot me a look, but soon we were overtaken by the rest of the wedding party. Jenna and Sam hadn’t skimped one bit on this wedding: each had ten attendants, and apparently there were close to three hundred guests.Sam’s family came from money—something to do with creating the first mechanical litter box—and this was the most ex

When the exotic dancer Laura had hired began to give me a lap dance, I almost fell backward out of my seat. My fellow bridesmaids hooted and hollered like a bunch of men at a cheap strip joint. I’d neglected to bring any dollar bills, but Jenna had handed me a stack with a wide grin before the party had started.“Yeah, get up on her!” yelled Reagan. She was the youngest of the bridesmaids, and she always seemed to have a flask of booze on hand at every occasion. Breakfast: vodka in her coffee; lunch, gin in her Coke; dinner, straight rum. Yet she always seemed perfectly sober. I didn’t know whether to be concerned or impressed.“Shake it!” Jenna screamed as the exotic dancer shimmied and turned to give me a view of his bare ass covered only by a gold G-string. It was so perfectly smooth I was tempted to ask him how he’d done it. Wax? Sugaring? Laser? It was like he’d never had a single hair on his butt ever.The dancer turned around, smiling widely, his crotch dangerously close to m

My new wife was avoiding me.I watched her dance during the reception, her green dress tight against her curves. One of the groomsmen—Kevin? Keith?—had his hands dangerously close to her arse. One more inch and he’d have a nice handful.Mari, to her credit, somehow managed to wiggle out of his grip to move his hands to a more appropriate place on her back without missing a beat. It was only her smile faltering that showed she was annoyed.I’d got good at reading my wife in the last two days.My wife. My bloody fucking wife.Me, the guy who hated the idea of marriage. I was a bitter old man in a young man’s body when it came to shite like this. Yet I’d skipped to the altar like a starry-eyed girl the second I got rat-arsed and horny for a gorgeous redhead.It’ll make me feel better, she’d said, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy. It’ll make David so mad. And it’d be fun. Don’t you like to have fun?I liked to have fun. Fun that didn’t involve signing my life away to a woman in o

A week after I’d got back to Seattle, I had dinner with Niamh at our favorite sushi place in Capitol Hill. Niamh had just bought herself a car after working all summer at our uncle Henry’s auto shop, and she showed the car to me like it was her new kid.“Isn’t she a beauty?” Niamh brushed a hand down the side of her Volkswagen that had to be three times older than she was. “The second I saw her, I knew she’d be mine.”“Did you help fix her up?”“Duh. Put in a new transmission, brakes, everything. I wouldn’t let anyone touch her, except for when Uncle Henry got mad at me for messing with the engine. He said I didn’t know what I was doing and could’ve gotten hurt.”I wished Niamh were less like me, but Christ Almighty she was just as stubborn and impulsive. As a toddler, I had to buy a leash to keep her from running into traffic. I’d got a reputation in town for being the teenager who took his sister out for walks like a dog.As the years passed, Niamh hadn’t lost that willfulness.