Authors: Emma Heatherington
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Contemporary Women, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Sagas, #New Adult & College, #Inspirational, #Women's Fiction, #Literature & Fiction
Th
e
las
t
break-u
p
befor
e
sh
e
me
t
Ro
b
wa
s
th
e
wors
t
of all
.
Sh
e
ha
d
bee
n
engage
d
t
o
b
e
marrie
d
t
o
T
od
d
Evan
s
– a
rugb
y
playe
r
fro
m
Galwa
y
wh
o
wa
s
destine
d
fo
r
big
things
.
He
r
fathe
r
ha
d
bee
n
i
n
hi
s
glor
y
,
tellin
g
al
l
his
mates
that
his
future
son-in-law
was
a
professional
sportsma
n
an
d
tha
t
h
e
wa
s
picke
d
fo
r
Irelan
d
bu
t
missed
ou
t
du
e
t
o
a
hamstrin
g
injur
y
.
T
es
s
wa
s
madl
y
i
n
lov
e
with him
,
bu
t
a
drunke
n
sno
g
i
n
th
e
bac
k
o
f
a
bu
s
afte
r
her
sister
’
s
he
n
part
y
pu
t
a
sto
p
t
o
al
l
that
.
Sh
e
panicked,
questione
d
he
r
lov
e
fo
r
T
od
d
an
d
brok
e
of
f
th
e
engagement.
H
e
ha
d
neve
r
love
d
again
.
Sh
e
kne
w
tha
t
fo
r
a
fac
t
an
d
he
s
til
l
hadn
’
t
forgive
n
he
r
fo
r
th
e
emotiona
l
turmoi
l
h
e
went throug
h
afterwards
.
Y
es
,
sh
e
kne
w
ho
w
t
o
brea
k
thing
s
alright
.
An
d
no
w
,
her
e
sh
e
wa
s
stuc
k
i
n
a
cold
,
steril
e
holdin
g
cel
l
a
s
she
waite
d
t
o
b
e
calle
d
t
o
mak
e
he
r
statement
.
The
y
wanted he
r
t
o
sobe
r
u
p
first
,
the
y
said
.
The
y
aske
d
he
r
di
d
she
wan
t
t
o
mak
e
a
phon
e
call
.
A
relative
?
A
lawye
r
perhaps?
Sh
e
didn
’
t
wan
t
anyon
e
t
o
kno
w
abou
t
this
.
No
t
eve
n
Rob
unles
s
h
e
reall
y
ha
d
to
.
The
y
ha
d
take
n
he
r
phone
,
he
r
jeweller
y
an
d
he
r
purse fro
m
he
r
.
Eve
n
he
r
preciou
s
fin
e
gol
d
necklac
e
tha
t
she
ha
d
wor
n
ever
y
da
y
sinc
e
he
r
grandmothe
r
ha
d
lef
t
i
t
to he
r
.
I
t
wa
s
antiqu
e
an
d
i
t
wa
s
he
r
signatur
e
look
.
What di
d
the
y
thin
k
sh
e
wa
s
goin
g
t
o
do
?
Han
g
hersel
f
wit
h
it? Apparentl
y
,
accordin
g
t
o
Simo
n
th
e
Cop
,
o
r
Copalicious a
s
Gin
a
ha
d
calle
d
him
,
tha
t
wa
s
exactl
y
wha
t
the
y
were afrai
d
sh
e
woul
d
do
.
H
e
wasn
’
t
suc
h
a
ba
d
ol
d
skin
,
onc
e
sh
e
calme
d
down an
d
stoppe
d
callin
g
hi
m
Bi
g
Ears
.
No
t
t
o
hi
s
fac
e
of course
.
Sh
e
wasn
’
t
tha
t
bad
.
Bu
t
h
e
di
d
hav
e
sticky-out ears
.
H
e
wa
s
cut
e
though
.
An
d
h
e
ha
d
a
wicke
d
sens
e
of humou
r
that
,
a
s
th
e
alcoho
l
an
d
shoc
k
wor
e
off
,
T
ess
brough
t
t
o
th
e
forefron
t
wit
h
he
r
one-liner
s
bouncin
g
off
his
.
“D
o
yo
u
com
e
her
e
often?
”
sh
e
aske
d
hi
m
a
s
h
e
le
d
her t
o
th
e
cell
.
“Onl
y
t
o
dea
l
wit
h
ba
d
teachers,
”
h
e
said
.
“
Y
o
u
need t
o
wor
k
o
n
you
r
aim
,
yo
u
kno
w
.
Y
ou’l
l
neve
r
mak
e
a
snipe
r
wit
h
tha
t
shot
.
I
t
wa
s
pathetic.
”
“
I
mus
t
practis
e
mor
e
nex
t
tim
e
I
thro
w
whiteboar
d
pens
a
t
on
e
o
f
m
y
pupil
s
whe
n
the
y
refus
e
t
o
parle
r
Français.
”