Dude Magnet (THE LAST PICKS #2) by Gregory Ashe EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Gregory Ashe
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“I think we might possibly, maybe, have made a mistake,” I said.
At the top of Hemlock House’s grand staircase, the bride-to-be
asked, “What about this ceiling? Could we smash it out?”
My friends looked to me for a response.
The Last Picks—they called themselves that because they were
always the last picks in gym (and for pretty much everything else)—
were here today because: a) they were almost always here, and b)
they were providing emotional support, and c) this was all Millie’s
fault. (As a side note, I definitely fell into that “last picks” category
too.) There were five of us: Millie, who was like a tiny blond version
of a caffeinated Energizer bunny.
Indira, with her laugh lines and
that lone shock of white hair like a witch. Fox, their graying hair
buzzed—today, under a top hat that featured little gears and
welding goggles, and which didn’t go with what they had told me
(at length) was called a seductress blouse. And Keme, short and lean
and tan from a summer of surfing, his long hair pushed behind his
ears.
“Oh my God,” Millie whisper-screamed. “They’re so in love! Isn’t
this the cutest? This is the CUTEST!”
“Mom,” the groom-to-be shouted down the stairs. “Can we do
something about this ceiling?”
“The cutest,” Fox murmured. They sounded like someone trying
to pick out their favorite knife.
Keme didn’t quite make a growling noise, but he folded his arms
—audibly—and set his jaw as he stared at the happy couple.
“Tell them no.” Indira nudged me. “Tell them they can’t make
any alterations.”
“Why me?” I asked.
The groom’s mother and father and grandmother were making
their way up the stairs now: Mom on her phone. Dad panting.
Grandma testing each step by hammering down with the ferrule of
her cane.
“Because it’s your house,” Millie said unhelpfully.
“Because I already had to stop them with the wallpaper,” Fox
said with a definite tone.
Keme gave me a look that translated to: Don’t be such a wuss.
“Because this was your idea,” Indira said.
I gaped at them. “This was Millie’s idea!”
Millie nodded enthusiastically and then said, “I bet her dress is
going to be gorgeous.”
There wasn’t much doubt about that since the GauthierMeadows clan, who were currently occupying my grand staircase,
had Scrooge McDuck kind of money. And I needed money. When I’d
decided to stay in Hastings Rock, I’d been certain that I could make
my savings stretch for a year. That seemed like a reasonable amount
of time—a year to get settled, to really start writing. The thing about
suddenly coming into possession of a Class V haunted mansion,
though? (That’s my personal ranking system, by the way.) They cost
a lot of money.
Buckets of money. Even when they’re in great
condition, like Hemlock House. And since I was still, uh,
brainstorming my brilliant masterpiece of a novel that would
doubtless bring me instant fame and fortune, and since I had no
employable skills, I needed to do something. Also, in Millie’s (and, I
suppose, my) defense, the idea had sounded like a good one.
Hemlock House—with its wainscoting and damask wallpaper and
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