Yep, Howard had kept the moniker and the spiritual yogi vibe, which didn’t bother Lorraine all that much. In fact, she’d even dropped a few pegs on the mega socialite meter. So, all that great sex she’d mentioned—not that he ever wanted to imagine his in-laws doing the dirty—must have paid off.
“Girls, Uncle Hector, Uncle Bobby, and Uncle Barry are here, too, and we have presents.”
“Who all is coming?” he asked his wife, then licked his finger and rubbed it on Mimi’s face, trying to remove the marker.
“Daddy, that’s gross!” Lizzy said, completely aghast.
“You’re right! Why did I do that?” he answered, staring at his finger covered in spit and red marker.
“It must be a parenting instinct,” Georgie said, kneeling next to Janey and staring down at her spit-covered red fingertip.
“Son? Georgie?” called his dad, which meant Maureen, Mia, and Mya had arrived.
The doorbell rang, and one of the bajillion people who’d let themselves into their home answered it.
“Talya! Simon! Look at you, two! We were thrilled to get the invitation to your wedding! Come in!” Maureen exclaimed.
Yep, the epic duo was still epically in love.
Jordan held his wife’s gaze. “How many people are in the house?”
Georgie stared at her fingers, then started to answer when Becca called up to them.
“Hey, blogosphere superstar family! Come say, hello. The party is starting without you.”
“And I saw a few spiders in your yard, so we should talk about spraying,” Brice added.
“I think Becca and Brice make fourteen?” Georgie said, giving up on her fingers when the doorbell rang again, followed by footsteps charging up the stairs.
Irene and Will’s son, Nathaniel, peeked in the room, saw the girls, then ran away screaming.
Jordan clapped his hands. “Getting the old band together. Good times!”
Georgie shook her head. “Just look at us.”
His gaze slid from his oldest daughter to his beautiful marked-up babies to his best friend, his business partner, and the love of his life.
“Is this where you thought you’d be when the first pink lines appeared?” Georgie teased, her blue-green eyes twinkling.
He plucked Mimi from her crib and sat down on the floor next to his wife. Mr. Tuesday nuzzled in next to him, and he scratched the old boy’s head as Lizzy and Janey joined them. Together, they listened to the chatter and laughter of the people they loved the most float up from downstairs.
He took Georgie’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Georgiana Jensen-Marks, my messy bun girl, not in a million years could I have imagined a life as perfect as this.”
“It’s eight ten, Marks family! The photographer will be here in five minutes!” Lorraine called from the bottom of the stairs.
He held Georgie’s gaze and knew they were thinking the same thing.
“It appears this family is about to own the eights yet again,” she said, flashing him the same smile he’d fallen in love with back when he was an asshat of a ten, and she was his perfect eight.
Thank you for reading Own the Eights Maybe Baby! Ready for more romance?
If you’re up for another romantic comedy, check out the 3-book Bergen Brothers Series or the standalone summer romance, The Kiss Keeper.
Want to add a little angst to the mix? Binge the 5-book Langley Park Series.
The Inside Scoop
When I was finishing up writing the Bergen Brothers Series, I went for a long run. The song “The Winner Is” from the movie Little Miss Sunshine came on. It’s a jaunty, charming little tune, and instantly, two characters popped into my head: a gal who shunned all things perfect and a guy whose life revolved around the pursuit of perfection
Now, throw in a contest that pits these two against each other while also forcing them to work together—and boom! There’s going to be some conflict—and some sexytimes.
It’s a romance novel, for Pete’s sake. Of course, there’s going to be some heat!
I mentioned this couple to my cover designer, Marisa-rose Wesley, owner of Cover Me Darling. She came back to me with the first cover. It was absolutely perfect. It embodied the sexy whimsy I was aiming for, and the series was born.
In Own the Eights Maybe Baby, I was able to pull from my experiences with my two pregnancies and the experiences and stories my friends shared.
When I went into labor with my youngest son, the doctor on-call from the practice just happened to be the one doctor I’d never met.
The man had a beard, so he came in looking more like an astronaut than an obstetrician with this crazy head covering. And, by the time he arrived, I’d realized that the epidural didn’t work. My first baby was a nine-pounds giant, that, thankfully, I was able to deliver with an epidural. My youngest was estimated to be even bigger—and I wasn’t about to be a hero with the second.
Well, an epidural that didn’t work plus an astronaut sauntering in to deliver my baby threw me over the edge.
I yelled at everyone in the room and told them there was no way in hell that I was delivering this baby without pain medication.
My husband will tell you that I used more colorful language.
Here’s the thing, when a baby is coming, the baby is coming. My son was ready to meet the world, and that’s what happened less than ten minutes later.
In the Own the Eights Series, I pulled from these life events then added a rom-com twist.
I’m going to miss these two.
I hope you enjoyed Georgie and Jordan’s journey.