The Plan by Ella James is coming November 13th!
You’ve heard this story before. Woman feels her biological clock ticking and gets someone to knock her up.
Not for love, for baby.
That’s what I thought.
Then I found out my fiancé had a vasectomy. The life I thought I had? Nope. Suddenly I’m 33, and I don’t even have a kissing buddy.
When my mom’s health takes a turn and I wind up back in my hometown of Fate, Alabama, I tell myself to leave things up to…well, you know.
Then I see Gabriel McKellan. He’s Fate’s most famous son, a bestselling author who is beautiful, complicated, and living just below me. In addition to his plus-sized brain, Gabe’s well-endowed in other ways, and great in bed to boot. I would know. He’s my ex husband.
When I suggest The Plan, I don’t imagine that he’ll take the bait. It’s been ten years, and we don’t work. But Fate has other plans for both of us.
I climb inside the U-Haul and grab two small things first: my favorite Elvis lamp and a box of yarn and clay, easy pickings for my first trip up the stairs to my rented digs. Then I grab my purse off the truck’s rear ledge, step down, and—
I blink at the wall I’ve just slammed into, and there he is. At first, I think I’m seeing things. I blink a few times, fast, to try to magic him away. Hallucination. But…he’s not.
His curly hair is wild and dark, just like it always was. His blue-gray eyes—more blue, although he claims they’re gray—are just as sharp as I recall. His face is still so striking: dark brows over a stern, strong nose, and high cheekbones. My gaze skates over his rich mouth, and I realize I’d forgotten how handsome he is.
Gabriel McKellan is famous at least in part because he looks like such a god. The familiarity of him hits me like a ball of ice right to the gut, but where he’s different makes me warm. That stubble-beard, the way his jaw is sharper, shoulders thicker. My gaze skates down his white t-shirt, pasted over rigid abs. I note his forearms—thicker, tanned—before appraising jeans-clad thighs.
My errant gaze jerks back up, where I find his features twisted in a scowl.
“What are you doing?” he asks roughly.
I blink. “What?”
Gabe’s brows pinch together, and he glares behind me, at the truck. “What are you doing here, Marley?”
I look around the quiet, leaf-strewn street, trying to explain not what I’m doing, but why I’m seeing him here. Nothing looks amiss, though. Nothing to suggest I’ve had a mental break.
“I’m moving back to Fate. Today,” I add, my voice a squeak above its normal octave.
Gabe’s foot taps the curb between us. Even barefoot, he’s a domineering prick. I inhale slowly, bringing my heart-rate down a notch, so I seem more gathered when I ask, “Where are your shoes?”
“Why did you park here,” he demands again.
“Because I’m moving in?” It’s not a question, but it sounds like one. I bug my eyes out in response to his mean stare. “What are you doing here—and where are your shoes?”
“My shoes are inside.”
I blink at the porch behind him. “Inside where?”
“Inside the house behind me.”
Gabe’s head is still shaking, his jaw locked like an angry sentry.
“What the hell is this about?” My heart begins to pound. “Are you my greeting party?”
“I’m your warning party,” he says quietly.
“Warning me from what?”
“I live here, Marley. On the bottom floor.”
“I’m living here.” His face hardens. “I think that means you need to close your truck and go.”
Is he insane? My head spins. Gabe can’t be… “You can’t live here,” I sputter. “You live in New York!”
For an instant, I feel sure this is a joke: a TV joke. Famous author/director shocks unknown ex-wife by popping up at her new place.
“Is there a hidden camera?” I ask lamely.
“No, Marley. There’s not. There’s just a house—with room for one.”
His lush mouth tightens. “I don’t think so.”
I laugh. “Oh—you watch.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ella James is the USA Today and Amazon Top 10 bestselling author of more than twenty love stories. She’s an angst-a-holic who loves exploring difficult situations and the emotions of the people caught up in them. Also, smut. But always, always romance.
Ella is an Alabama native who makes her home in Colorado with her husband, three young children, and hyperactive dog. When she’s not writing, she can be found hiking the foothills, taking nature photos for her Instagram account, or swilling vanilla cream soda.
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