The Way To A Man’s Heart: Books 1-10

by Love, Frankie

  “Getting in position?” Jessa says, eyes widening. “Wait, how close are you?”

  “I’m thirty-eight weeks,” I say, exhaling. “And the other kids have all come early.”

  “Which means… any day now.” Jessa smiles.

  I lean in close. “Let’s hope it’s a few more days. I’d really like some time alone with Billy tonight. He’s been working long hours.”

  Jessa smiles. “Let me take the kids for the night. I mean it.”

  “No way,” I laugh. “You know how many kids I have, right?”

  “I do, and I love them. All of them. I mean it — I’m bringing my Suburban to your house at six and you better be ready to pile those kiddos in my car.”

  * * *

  Several hours later, I stand on the front porch, waving goodbye as Jessa and Josh pull away with my kids safely bucked into their seats. Billy has been at school since the match, finishing up grading some papers, so I rush inside, tossing laundry in baskets and shoving them in the closet. I pick up shoes and Legos and dirty dishes, wanting to create the illusion of peace.

  Smiling, I jump in the shower — well, jump as well as a very pregnant woman can. I wash my hair and shave the parts of my legs I can reach. And then I find a pink thong that is stretchy enough to pull over my hips, and a satin robe that falls around my breasts in a way I know my husband will find insanely attractive.

  After drying my hair quickly, I swipe some clear lip gloss across my lips and grin, thinking of dinner.

  In the kitchen, I whip up some batter, plug in the iron, and light some candles. Just as I am reaching for the syrup, the front door opens.

  “Honey?” He must be caught off-guard by how quiet the house is.

  He finds me in the kitchen and chuckles, asking how I got the kids to bed so damn early.

  “They’re at Josh and Jessa’s for the night. We have the house to ourselves.”

  “Well, lucky us,” he says, setting a to-go bag on the counter.

  “What did you get?” I ask as he pulls me into a kiss.

  “I got you dinner from the diner. Your favorite. Waffles.”

  Tears fill my eyes. “You got me waffles?”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  I shake my head, pointing to the waffle iron on the counter. “I guess we were both feeling romantic.”

  He cups my cheeks and kisses me. I sink against his chest and breathe him in. This man who made my life complete. Who loved me fully, forever, from day one.

  “I know my stomach is always growling, but can we wait on the waffles?”

  Billy runs a hand over his jaw. “First time I’ve ever heard you wait on food.”

  “I’m craving something else right now, Billy. You.”

  Upstairs, he unties my robe and runs his palm over my slick pussy, growling as we climb into bed. His cock is big and thick, and my body is starving for him.

  “You’ve been working so hard,” I tell him. “I needed this. Needed you.”

  “God, woman, you make me crazy.”

  “We’ve always been a little crazy, haven’t we?”

  He smiles, kissing me hard, his cock in my hand as I climb on top of him. He guides himself inside of me and soon enough, I’m rocking in circles, my body lit up with desire for him. Him. Only him.

  Billy is so hard and he is so close. I arch my back as we get off, our orgasms so hot and ready, our bodies so obviously needing to get off. And God, do we ever. I’m panting as he pounds me, thrusting deep inside me, our bodies in a perfect rhythm until we’ve finished, breathless and still so damn horny for more. Lucky for us, we have the entire night.

  I can’t wait to meet our baby — but for now, I am more than satisfied having this time with Billy.

  “You’re so wet, baby,” he groans as he runs his hands over my back.

  My eyes widen. “Oh God!”

  “What is it?”

  “Uh, I think… I think… my water just broke, Billy!”

  We laugh, because of course my water broke on the one night we have alone.

  He helps me stand and get to the bathroom. As I’m considering what sort of clothes I should wear to the hospital, I lick my lips.

  As a good husband, who has been around this block four times before, he is already reaching for my hospital bag.

  “What is it?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine, knowing I’m up to something.

  I flash him a smile. “You think I can eat those waffles before we go?”

  About

  One in a Melon

  ONE IN A MELON

  The Way To A Man’s Heart Book 7

  I’ve known her forever.

  Georgina’s sassy, sexy, and stubborn as hell.

  She’s also my best friend’s little sister.

  And she’s in serious trouble.

  But the melon-dollar question is, will this strong-willed woman let me help?

  Dear Reader,

  Grady is a gruff and growly alpha who doesn’t mind getting dirty in his garden.

  Or the bedroom.

  He’s ready to take a bite of something sweet and juicy.

  Question is, if he was a watermelon, would you spit or swallow his seed?!

  xo, frankie

  Chapter One

  Grady

  I kill it at the workout. Dead lifts. Burpees. Wall balls. Squat routine. I get the best time of the day. Vance shakes his head, frustrated. He’s my closest friend and we’re always trying to best one another. But his head is just not in the game. His loss, my gain.

  While my buddies have all been off falling in love, I’ve been doubling down on exercise. What else am I supposed to do without a woman to come home to?

  Vance claps my back. “Well done, buddy.”

  “Thought you’d be in better shape now that you and Valerie are living the good life.”

  Vance chuckles. “Actually, work has been a shit show. I’m trying to track a suspect down but they seem to have run off. A real piece of work.”

  I frown. “Sorry, man. Sounds rough.”

  “It’s all good,” Vance says. “I got Valerie at home to remind me that the world isn’t all bad.”

  I grunt, admittedly jealous of the fact he’s got his little slice of paradise.

  Wiping sweat off my brow though, I admit to being a little jealous as the guys discuss the plans they’ve made with their wives and girlfriends.

  “So what should I bring to the dinner party?” Matt asks Trent as we head to the locker room. Both of them are recently hitched.

  Major, Beckett, and I all make eye contact. Dinner party? We try not to laugh — what happened to poker nights and drinks at O’Malley’s? Sure, our buddies all hooked up with great ladies — but still… it’s not the same.

  It’s just three of us guys who work out together who have managed to avoid the old ball and chain, and I don’t think I’m the only one of the single guys wishing things hadn’t changed quite so much, quite so fast.

  I’m glad Major and Beckett recently joined the gym — without them, I’d be flying solo.

  “So you guys wanna get dinner later?” I ask them.

  “I wish, but I’m trying to sleep train Annie,” Beckett says. “Six months old and that girl is already putting up a fight. Makes me think she’ll be quite a teenager.”

  “Right, of course.” I nod. Beckett is new around here and has a pretty full plate being a single dad. “Another time. Hey, guys,” I call out before everyone disperses. “In the back of my truck is a box of watermelons. I had extra at the store. So grab one for yourselves, okay?”

  “Thanks man,” they call out. As the owner of a gardening store, I always have a few bins of fresh produce from Lucia at Nettle Bank Farm. She’s Matt’s sister, and I try to support local. When there’s extra, I share it around.

  After the guys leave the gym and head home to their women, it’s just Major and me. “O’Malley’s?” he asks. He recently moved back to town after a busted knee ended his NFL career and I know he’s h
ad a tough time with his whole life plan being up-ended out of nowhere.

  I nod. “Thank God there’s one of you guys not attached to a female.”

  “No luck with the ladies?” Major asks as we leave the gym and head down the street toward our favorite bar.

  I shrug. “Eh, not really.” Truth is there’s only ever been one girl. And I know the likelihood of ever going somewhere with her. Vance would kill me if I tried to get with his little sister.

  Georgina is off-limits — he made that clear back when she was in high school.

  “What about you?” I ask Major.

  Major’s lip twitches, and he chuckles. “Don’t get mad, but I was wondering what you knew about Myra.”

  “Myra? My Myra?” She’s recently relocated from the South and she seems really sweet, which is a sharp contrast to Major’s hard edges. From what I can tell, the guy’s been through the wringer.

  “Your Myra?” Major laughs, pulling open the door to the bar. “I didn’t realize she was yours.”

  “She’s not. She’s just my employee. I feel, I don’t know, protective?”

  “I get it,” Major says. “But do you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

  We grab beers from the bar and I think it over. “Not that I know of. But I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Sounds good, man,” Major says as we get a table.

  My phone buzzes as I take my first sip. I glance at the text and see it’s from Georgina. Frowning, I read it. It’s not often she texts me.

  My spine straightens and I try to register her words.

  “What is it, Grady?” Major asks.

  I swallow, rereading her words: I need your help. Don’t tell my brother. Please.

  Georgina

  When Karen messaged me on Facebook out of nowhere two months ago, I was a little skeptical. I’d gotten messages like this in the past.

  Want to meet up and discuss a new skin care routine?

  Interested in learning about an exciting new business opportunity selling tote bags?

  It’s been forever! Can I tell you about an amazing weight loss shake?

  I always muted the conversations straightaway, knowing a multi-level marketing pitch when I saw one.

  But Karen’s approach was different. It was organic. Natural.

  Or so I thought.

  I’d run into her at the grocery store — hadn’t seen her in four years, not since high school — and here she was with a designer handbag and ombre hair and coffin nails, her cart filled with fresh produce and kombucha. I’d been rocking leggings — the same black ones I’d slept in the night before — a messy bun, and my own cart was full of Hot Pockets.

  She’d given me a hug. “Oh my God, Georgie! It’s been years!”

  “Yeah, since grad night. We had too much to drink and went skinny dipping down at Clement’s Lake.” Why did I mention that? Why do I even remember that?

  Well, I know why. I was too scared to call my brother that night. So I called the one person I knew would always be there for me.

  Grady came and picked me up, promising to never tell my brother that the cops had been called.

  Karen had laughed at the skinny dipping memory. The kind of laugh that had men turning to see who on God’s green earth made such a magical sound. She was like a unicorn, honestly. Gorgeous and put together — a gem. “You were voted most likely to succeed in high school,” Karen said, unknowingly making a dig. “I can’t believe we lost touch!”

  “You went to college in New York, right?” I said, chewing my bottom lip.

  She nodded. “Yeah, just moved back.” Her Apple Watch kept beeping at her and finally she groaned. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to run. We’ll catch up, okay?”

  I watched her dash toward self-checkout in her lululemon yoga pants with her barre class ass, scanning her heirloom tomatoes with a flourish. My stomach grumbled. Suddenly my cart of food seemed juvenile. I pushed it toward the fresh fruits and veggies and looked for something healthy to go along with my microwave meals.

  My eyes landed on a mini watermelon and I picked it up, bringing it to my nose. Immediately thinking of Grady and his green apron and his garden supply shop. How every so often, he drops off baskets of produce at my apartment for Val and me, saying his garden is overflowing. How it’s doing him a favor if we take it off his hands.

  Every time, I invite him in. Every time, he stays for a few minutes before making an excuse to leave. I always hope he will stay… though I’m terrified of what I’ll do if given too much alone time with him. Basically, I’d rip off his clothes and do more than spit out his watermelon seeds. I’d swallow.

  Which is quite the fantasy for a virgin with literally zero experience.

  My heart filled with longing, though, as I watched my old high school friend sashay from the store. Wishing for a put-together life like Karen had. Maybe if I was like her, a guy like Grady would say yes. He’d come into the apartment and I’d cut up that melon and offer him a slice. I’d toss his fruit salad and I’d sure as hell make sure he liked it.

  This is what ran through my mind for the next twenty-four hours as I attempted to do my dead-end virtual assistant job from the comfort of my own bed.

  So when Karen messaged me a day later, asking me to grab a drink and discuss what she’d been up to, I didn’t think it was a scheme to draw me into her illegal business.

  I thought it was a chance to see how the other half did it. I thought I might learn a thing or two.

  But it was a setup. And I ate it from the palm of her hand. Fell for it. For her. For the promise of the life she had.

  Now I’m in trouble.

  More trouble than grad night. And I’m scared the cops might get called again.

  If they do, they won’t let me off the hook this time.

  But some things never change. Because once again, it’s Grady I contact when I really need help.

  Chapter Two

  Grady

  “You okay?” Major asks, taking another drink of his beer.

  “I’m good, I just gotta go.”

  “Really? Dude, you’re the one who dragged me out tonight.”

  Hating that he’s right, I make a decision I might later regret. “How about I make it up to you?” I say, texting him the contact he wants.

  His phone vibrates and he reads the screen. “Really? Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. Just do me a favor and don’t go falling in love in twenty-four fucking hours like the rest of the guys?”

  Major runs a hand over his jaw, smirking. “I can’t make a promise like that, Grady. Can you?”

  I laugh it off as I leave, but deep down, I know I fell in love with Georgie that fast.

  A bottle of tequila. A game of truth or dare. A hot tub. It could have gone down so much differently. We could be together right now.

  Instead, I backed off. Away. She was only sixteen. I was twenty. The timing was wrong, even though it felt so damn right.

  That was six years ago.

  Six.

  And nothing has changed. For me, at least. But Georgina is not the sort of girl to settle for a guy like me. She’s a woman who was built for bigger things. A bigger life. A man like me would only tie her down.

  But now she needs my help.

  Outside, I text her back. Where are you?

  Georgina: At the apartment. I’m alone.

  Grady: Gimme ten.

  I jog back to the gym and get in my truck, driving toward her apartment complex. Georgina’s roommate, Valerie, left a few weeks ago to move in with Vance, and I wonder if that is part of the problem.

  Then I remember comments from Vance over the last few months. She’s acting wild. Not herself. Never around.

  It worries me, and as I drive to Georgie’s place, I hope that she hasn’t gotten herself in the sort of trouble that can’t be fixed.

  When I get to the complex, I park and look at the crate in the back of my truck. There’s one watermelon left, and I grab it before I
climb the steps to Georgina’s second floor apartment. She answers before I even knock.

  “Grady,” she gasps, pulling me inside. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Yeah, and I brought you something.” I hand her the green striped fruit and she smiles softly.

  “You’re truly one in a melon, Grady.” She tries to laugh, but I know it’s strained. Georgie’s regular laugh is loud — this one is flat.

  I set a hand on her back as we move from the doorway. “Well, let’s see if I can help before you make that claim.”

  Her eyes are rimmed in red and as I walk into her place, I take it in. The curtains are drawn, the lights are low, and there are empty takeout containers on the coffee table.

  “What’s going on?” I ask gently as she locks the door. The place is a mess compared to how she usually keeps it. Something is clearly wrong.

  “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve made a big mistake,” she says, dropping her head into her hands. “I hate this. Hate myself.”

  “Don’t say that, Georgie.” I press a hand to her shoulder and she moves her hands, looking up at me. Her lips are so pouty and pink, her dark brown eyes so big, like a Disney princess’s. She’s in sweats and her curly blonde hair is a mess, but she looks so damn cute it’s hard to take her tears seriously. Georgie has always been a bit dramatic. A little over the top. It’s one of the reasons I find her so endearing. She is so unlike me, it draws me to her even more. She could be the wild to my safe. If only we had a chance.

  “I’m not exaggerating,” she groans. “I’m in a jam and I can’t exactly call my brother.”

  “Why? Because he’s with Valerie?” I ask, crossing my arms. “I’m just the back-up guy?”

  I don’t know why I say it like that. So defensive. But being here, alone with her, is stirring up all sorts of things inside of me. The emotions I’ve kept buried for so damn long.

  I want Georgie, I always have. And the idea that I’m only here because she can’t get a hold of her big brother — it kills me.