Doing It for Love (All About Love #1)

  “So…” I say, then gulp to push away the damn nerves. “Two more minutes, then we gotta call our parents and let them know Wanda will be here in nine months.”

  Her head tilts to the side. “Wanda?”

  “What’s wrong with Wanda?”

  “Wanda Wangford.”

  “Yeah…”

  She shakes her head. “No. That one is off the table.”

  I laugh. “Okay, what would you name her?”

  “What makes you think it’s a her?”

  “Oh, I had a chat with the guys after the last time.” I point to my crotch. “Daddy wants a girl, so I told the fellas to back off and let the ladies go first.”

  “You know, I actually believe you did that.”

  “So what would you name her?”

  “Lavender.”

  “Lavender? Isn’t that a color?”

  “So…?”

  “Better idea…let’s name her Periwinkle,” I tease, and she pushes my shoulder. “Or Mahogany. Turquoise. Cerulean. Ocher.”

  “How the hell do you know all those colors?”

  “You made me go through about a thousand of them when we painted that one wall.”

  “What if your boys didn’t listen?” She blinks her bright green eyes. She doesn’t look as scared anymore. Actually excited. I squeeze her hand twice ’cause I’m feeling the excitement too.

  “Wally,” I say, and she gives me the same look I got with Wanda.

  “What is it with you and the W names?”

  “Okay, what’s yours?”

  “Lucas.”

  “What’s with you and the L names?”

  “I like the Ls.” She pokes my chest. “Landon.” She points at herself. “Liz.” Then slowly, holding her breath, she drags her finger down to her stomach. She sort of cradles it, and I have the urge to do the same. To kiss her belly button. To press my ear to her skin and strain to hear the buzz of a heartbeat. I take in a breath, realizing that I too was holding it.

  “Lucas,” I say, setting my hand on her leg.

  “Or Lavender.” She sticks her tongue out, and I laugh.

  “All right, Tumbles. I like the L theme.” I reach out to tickle her, but she slides off the bed. Guess it’s been two minutes.

  I throw myself back on the mattress, rest my head on my hands, and call after her, “And we can have lots of runts running around and no shortage of names. Lydia, Lisa, Laura, Lance, Levi, Leon—”

  “Well, you’re going to have to wait,” she says, stepping inside the room. I sit up just as she chucks the pregnancy stick into the garbage. “Nothing yet.”

  Something sinks in my gut, somewhat shocking me. I guess…I guess I was hoping for a positive. Holy shit.

  Liz gives me a tiny smile and folds into herself. It feels different from last time. We’re married now. This is my wife, and I know she wants to be a mother. I want to give that to her. And selfishly, I want to give that to myself, too.

  “I really need to get a refund on those birth-control pills,” she jokes. I get up and close the gap between us, wrapping my gorgeous wife in my arms. Her hands lock behind my back, and I feel her smile against my T-shirt. I love that I can do that for her. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow,” she says. “Find out what other options there are. Seriously…”

  “We could always use a condom.”

  “No offense, but it’s just not the same with a bag on it.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She laughs against me, and I take in a shaky breath, give her two tight squeezes, and wait for her to squeeze back once. She does within almost the same second.

  “What if instead of going to the doctor I take you out?”

  “Landon…” She leans from my hold and gives me a look. “You know that if you’re funny and sweet and romantic on that date we’re going to have to ‘put a bag on it.’ ”

  “What if we didn’t?”

  “I don’t trust those pills.”

  “I know.”

  “And you don’t want me to go to the doctor.”

  “Right.”

  Her green eyes widen, and a glint of hope flickers behind them. I want to kiss the apples of her cheeks, hold her in the palms of my hands, and capture that gaze forever and bask in the fact that I put it there.

  “You…you want to try?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You think we’re ready?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She lets out a soft laugh and I cup her cheeks, hold this angel of mine in my hands just like I wanted to, and she grasps on to my forearms.

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever ready,” I say, “but I want to give you a baby.”

  She smiles, revealing that gap. “I want to give you a baby.”

  “Then I think we should start right away, don’t you?” I hoist her over my shoulder, feeling pretty damn awesome that I don’t drop her when I feel her hands jam down the back of my pants and grab my ass so hard I’m pretty sure she leaves marks.

  I toss her on the bed just to watch her boobs bounce as she lands. She’s on my belt in a flash, and I’m kissing the pulse on her neck.

  “Let’s make up for all those times we could’ve done it while we were engaged,” she says, ripping my belt off. “Think you’re up for the challenge?”

  “Sex every day till you get pregnant?” I laugh against her throat. “I’ll bet you the names you back out.”

  She pauses in her frantic movements to get my clothes off, leans back, and gives me that look of competitiveness I find sexy as hell. We’ll go with the L names, I know it because she has me whipped to the bone, but I feel pretty damn victorious when she dips her hand into my pants and grins.

  “I hope Lord Landon is ready to set up camp in the Land of Liz.”

  Dedicated to anyone who is married to someone who leaves their socks on the floor, and you love them anyway.

  Acknowledgments

  Look, Mom! I wrote a book about what happens after the Happily Ever After. And it was kind of naughty. But like you told that lady in the middle of the Smith’s book section, you like that stuff. So I hope I didn’t make you blush too hard when you read about Liz’s adventures in Chocolateville.

  My career would be nothing without my readers. To those of you who bought this book, thank you, and I hope that I made you laugh at least once.

  And on the very long shot that she reads this book…Taylor Swift, you rock. I adore you. And I hope you don’t mind that I described Liz after your cute self.

  My Awesome Nerds are the best people in the world. Not only do your reviews and enthusiasm get my butt off my couch and into my writing chair, but you always send me lots of pictures of hot guys in glasses. Mmmm…love those bespectacled men! You guys get me. *does Mockingjay salute*

  There are many people who dug me out of the “THIS BOOK SUCKS!” hole that I constantly threw myself into during the drafting of this book. It would be wrong to not acknowledge their unbelievable patience and understanding with a crazy woman like me. Lenore, Theresa, Jolene, Rachel, Suzi, and Jessica…pretty sure you saved this book from going into the trash on a daily basis.

  Shout-out to my critique partners and betas for reading this book in lightning speed because whenever I have a deadline, I cut it super close. Kelley, Jolene, Carol, and Ashlei, thank you for not laughing at all my little notes in the middle of sentences and for fixing whatever New York reference I had that made no sense. And an extra shout-out to Beth for coming up with the “delayed gratification” line that made it through every edit of this thing. (Because it was hilarious.)

  I’m also a very lucky duck, because I get to work with the most AMAZING publishing team. Sue Grimshaw, you are the goddess of editors. To my publicist and my marketing gurus, you are absolutely kickbutt. And of course, my copy editors are the best ever. Can’t tell you how many times I accidentally wrote “boob” instead of “book.” Though…that might’ve worked in this one…

  Special high fives to my super agent, Rachel Sto
ut, who worked with me through many, many emails and is always enthusiastic…and a GIANT thank-you for saying the best thing ever about Landon when reading this book.

  My sister Jenny is the greatest because not only does she read my books, she rereads them and calls me in the middle of the night to tell me how awesome I am. I bet she’s making up for all the tickling she did to me growing up.

  My kids are a wonderful support. The oldest has taken the job of “Informer,” so every time I go to the office to write, he comes in with a handful of offenses his brother and sister have done since I left the room. My middle child is now the “Screamer” and has taken it upon himself to randomly scream his vocal cords into oblivion whenever I finally get a dose of inspiration. And my youngest, the “Dumper,” has decided that every time I sit down to write…she must poop. A very stinky poop. And then sit right next to me while I try to train my nose into thinking it’s imaginary. You guys are great at your jobs. Maybe find other talents for this next book. Like “The Mute.”

  Don’t worry, I’m almost done…one more, and I’m gonna write it really fast so I don’t cry.

  Hubby, you are the peanut butter to my jelly. (No, wait, I want to be the peanut butter. The chunky kind.) And I can honestly say that much of this book would not have been written if I had not experienced what happens after the happily ever after. We fight, we tease, we fall asleep in the middle of trying to get frisky, and you leave your dang socks on the floor every day. Our date nights consist of ignoring the pile of laundry and playing Marvel trivia games. I don’t remember the last time we showered together for any other reason but to save water and time. You clip your toenails in the living room, and I rarely shave my legs.

  But you still tuck me into bed. You hold my hand in the car. You let me fall asleep on your lap. You buy me cheesecake on rough days. You tell me I’m beautiful. You rub my hairy legs when I’m cold. You do dishes, take the trash out, and always lift the lid.

  You are my person, and thank you for teaching me what real love is, and not just so I can write about it.

  *squeezes hand twice*

  BY CASSIE MAE

  Friday Night Alibi

  Switched

  The Real Thing

  Doing It for Love

  No Interest in Love (coming soon)

  PHOTO: ERIN SUMMERILL OF SUMMERILL PHOTOGRAPHY

  CASSIE MAE (who dons the name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred…okay, maybe not that many…books. Some of which became popular for their quirky titles, characters, and stories. She likes writing about nerds, geeks, the awkward, the fluffy, the short, the shy, the loud, the fun.

  Since publishing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend, she has published and sold books to Random House, Swoon Romance, and Tulip Romance. She has a favorite of all her babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is. (Mainly because it changes depending on the day.)

  Along with writing, Cassie Mae likes to binge-watch Teen Wolf and The Big Bang Theory. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.

  You can stalk, talk, or send pictures of Dylan O’Brien to her on her Facebook page.

  Facebook.com/cassiemaeauthor

  @CassieCook2

  The Editor’s Corner

  As the seasonal colors change with the leaves on the trees, so does our lineup of new Loveswept romances…and we’re sure you’ll love them all!

  Adore MC romances? You’ll love Rachael Johns’s, Fire Me Up. Sports fans won’t want to miss New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett’s Cold Fury Hockey series continuing with Ryker and debut author Sophia Henry introduces her Pilot’s Hockey series with Delayed Penalty. Then it’s off the ice with Samantha Kane’s new NFL title, Broken Play. Baseball fans everywhere will want the next in the Boys of Summer series by Katie Rose, The Heat of the Moment, while readers who devour MMA stories will go for Loveswept debut author Sarah Robinson’s Breaking a Legend. And if your taste for fighters is not squelched just yet, Raven by Suzanne Ashley has a twist that will shock you and yet melt your heart—prepare yourself for an emotional ride.

  For those sports enthusiasts who take to the slopes, Extreme Risk’s next installment, Slashed, by New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff is here! Fabulously fun and flirty author Cassie Mae begins a new series, All About Love, that will have you laughing out loud, then sniffling, maybe both at the same time with the first book, Doing It for Love. Lastly, a sexy regency historical novella from Lavinia Kent, part of her Bound and Determined series, Sarah’s Surrender.

  All affordably priced and found wherever eBooks are sold, Loveswepts are stories you’ll always remember and that can be easily stored on your digital shelves to be read over and over again. Until next time…

  Happy Romance!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for an excerpt from

  No Interest in Love

  by Cassie Mae

  Available from Loveswept

  SUNDAY

  8:30 P.M.

  “It smells like ass in here.”

  Shay wrinkles her tiny nose, pushing her red old-lady glasses up as she peers into the hotel room we regrettably have to share for the night. I inhale deep, noticing the assy scent, but even that can’t wipe the smile from my face.

  Because I, Jace Carver, am getting laid by the end of the week.

  “I call the left one,” I say, dragging my carry-on bag across the room and claiming the bed by the window. The hotel room isn’t much, but it was this or a motel, and that one letter makes a whole lot of difference.

  “That’s the one I want.”

  I knew she’d argue with me. So I tilt a suggestive eyebrow at her. I’m already pushing my shoes off with my toes. “We can share. I don’t mind.”

  Her tiny nose wrinkles again. “How did I know that would be your response?”

  She plops her giant purse on the right side bed and blows out a large sigh. Shaking my head, I reach for the strap and set it on the bed I clearly called dibs on.

  “You can have it. I don’t want your mood to harsh my buzz.”

  She crosses her arms over her high-collared blue shirt. Shay’s always tried to put off that she’s commanding and intimidating, when really, it’s hilarious as hell.

  “How can you be happy right now? Our flight was delayed. We should be in Alabama schmoozing up to Carletta and the casting director.”

  Ah…Carletta. That’s why I’m happy right now.

  Carletta Ocean is famous, and not just for her acting. Rumor has it that she sleeps with every actor who plays opposite her, but just while shooting. She said in an interview once that it “helps create authentic chemistry.” Then, after however many months, it’s done. Clean-cut, no-mess sexual arrangement.

  Those lucky bastards.

  See, I haven’t been able to score with a woman in over…ah hell, I don’t even like to think it. Let’s just say it’s the driest of spells. It’s like the sandman has crash-landed in my shorts and he’s taking forever to recover. My balls have turned so blue, Smurfs look pale in comparison.

  My last conquest, Chantal, and I slept together the whole time we shot the low-budget movie. My best buddy, Landon, got a grant from a film festival he won a few years before that and he needed actors willing to work for pretty much nothing. I was for sure going to help out, but Chantal thought we should get something else out of all the hard work in case the movie didn’t sell to any studios. The terms were beautiful. No one was gonna find out, and we weren’t gonna keep it up when filming was over. It was the cleanest “breakup” I’ve ever had.

  It was magnificent.

  And Shay, my brilliant—yet pain-in-the-ass—agent, landed me an audition for the next Carletta movie.

  “Hey, the audition’s not till Friday,” I say, plopping down on the bed closest to the door. I tuck my hands under my
head. “We got time.”

  She dives into her bag, the only luggage she packed. Her tablet catches a glare from the setting sun as she pulls it out, and it hits me right in the eyes.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to make me work.”

  Her face lights up as the screen turns on. “You can’t mess this up like you did the last audition.”

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “You mooned the casting director.”

  “He wanted a butt double! What kind of messed-up shit is that?” I flip around. “Look at this ass. It’s glorious.”

  She pushes her lips together, holding back her laugh. Her eyes are definitely checking out my ass, but she neither confirms nor denies its glory.

  “I’m going to see if the front desk can print out the script.” She tries to shove the tablet into her back pocket, but it doesn’t fit. So she leaves quickly…probably so I don’t have the chance to make fun of her for it.

  As soon as the door clicks behind her, I reach over and mash the remote till it hits something I’m interested in. The TV is always on no matter where I am. I call it research even though my friends call it laziness. I’m somewhat of an actor, though. I say it counts.

  Neil Patrick Harris is first up on the entertainment news of the day, and I toast my coffee mug up to the acting god himself. It’s because of his genius character on How I Met Your Mother that I am…

  wait for it…

  …awesome.

  I’ve taken what I call “The Stinson Approach” to all things in my life. Quick background: Barney Stinson is a character on that brilliant show who achieved the thing I didn’t know was possible. He went through his entire life sleeping around, different woman every night, rarely the same woman twice, and was easily the happiest character on the show. I majored in acting just to see if I could get a taste of what Barney could do with his elaborate schemes.

  Well…turns out when you tell a woman that she’s your everything, that you can’t stop thinking about her, that she turns your world on its head—all in the name of acting—she doesn’t just give it away. In fact, most of the time she calls you out on your bullshit. Nope, it can’t be as easy as Barney makes it out to be.