Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
The odds of Aidan finding himself a woman who would be just as good-hearted as his sisters-in-law were unfavorable at best, and Doug had a feeling it was because of this his boss was looking rather brooding of late. It was more luck than anything else that Ethan and Thornton had found their brides, but what were the chances of the very same lightning striking thrice for the remaining Blackwood bachelor?
Doug was not the type to pray, but he ended up doing just that as he heard the priest inside the small church ask everyone to bow their heads and offer up their prayers and intentions. It was thanks to the Blackwood family that Doug now had a happy and comfortable life, and he could only hope that one day, Aidan Blackwood would have his turn to experience domestic bliss.
Doug prayed that the younger man would soon find his match, which he imagined was likely to be some country lass who wouldn't mind Hartland's slow pace of living. Or maybe some kind of shy, bookish introvert and thus likely to find the town's quiet days an inspiration to write poetry or something.
My boss is in his thirties, Doug reasoned to God, so he probably wouldn't be choosy at this point. Aidan Blackwood would only likely draw the line on marrying a horrible, gold-digging bitch. Or anyone inexcusably stupid. And lazy. And vain, like those girls that did all sorts of crazy things on that website called...Tic Tac Toe, was it?
A girl with a taste for simpler living, Doug decided. That should be the perfect match for his boss, and with God's grace, Aidan Blackwood should be getting hitched within the year.
Chapter One
OMFG you guys. I just saw #serafinaedison at the airport, and she's just like y'all say she is. Classy AF. For realz!
~ Marlene, Twitter
I almost had a heart attack when I realized #serafinaedison was queueing behind me at Starbucks! I offered to let her go ahead of me, but she said no. She's so kind! So classy!
~ Ava, Twitter
Watch and learn! This is how real ladies yawn! #stayclassy #serafinaedison
~ Nancy, Instagram story
I'm on the same flight as #serafinaedison and you guys just gotta see this for yourself. No makeup. No fancy clothes. Just clear radiantly beautiful skin doing its job. Like, seriously. Do I need to sell my soul to the devil so I can say I #wokeuplikethis too?
~ Carrie, Twitter
THERE IT IS AGAIN.
The C-word.
Classy, I mean, and not c*nt.
I scroll through my newsfeed on every social media platform, and six out of ten posts have the C-word. Which is good, I know. I'm flattered females of all ages think I'm classy, but...
Stop right there, Raffi.
I need to be grateful about this. People thinking I'm classy is why I have a nice apartment to call home. It's why I can pay the bills and afford a vacation like this. So if people choose to think I'm classy, I just need to...
Fake it till their words become reality?
I drop my phone back in my purse in a fit of frustration and take out my squeeze ball.
Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze.
Everything's such a mess these days, I just don't know what's right anymore. Like that post about me yawning. I don't think covering my mouth when yawning is classy. If I don't have my hand over my mouth when I yawn, I'll be giving the public a clear good look at my tonsils, and who in their right mind would want that?
What I think is just plain common sense, the Internet sees as classy, and...that shouldn't be a problem. Right?
No one's going to lose their job or something if people insist on seeing what they want to see and—-
"Sorry about that."
The waitress whose eye I've been trying to catch for the past fifteen minutes finally gets to my booth, and the look on her face has me biting back a sigh. Five years of being "Insta-famous" has me meeting all sorts of people, and her type, well...
"I thought you city girls need about an hour to count your calories or something."
Let's just say I'm used to them disliking me at first sight, but because I also understand where they're coming from...
"It's fine." It really is, never mind if my stomach begs to differ. I've only had oats this morning before deciding to book my flight on a whim, and that was ten hours ago. I'm definitely starving, and so I don't waste another moment as I give the waitress (Colette, according to her name pin) my order.
"One Philly cheesesteak sandwich with fries on the side. One strawberry milkshake, and one side order of cheese sticks please."
Colette stares at me. "Are you sure you're going to eat all of that?"
"Um—-"
"Because we don't like wasting food around here so—-"
I cut her off, saying politely, "I can. Thanks."