Samantha: I swear to God, you better be lying. If you’re not, tell Birdie she has a lot of explaining to do when you guys get back.
Candy: You two are a real pain in my ass, you know that?
Amy: Andrew Watson, I swear to God, you better be joking.
Liza: Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Neil: Seriously?????
And lastly, Andrew’s next two responses to the shocked messages.
Nope. And we’re going full-on progressive with this. I need you guys to start working on a few things ASAP. 1. Put the LA house up for sale and start searching for a nice place in Nashville. 2. Sell all my sports cars and buy us a minivan. 3. And start the paperwork to get my last name changed to Harris.
Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll get to work on getting Birdie knocked up with my babies so we have something to fill our new minivan with. ;)
A shocked laugh leaves my lips, and I lift my eyes to meet Andrew’s amused gaze.
“Minivans and living in Nashville and being the Harrises? Looks like you’ve got our whole future planned out, huh?” I ask, a teasing tone in my voice.
“Sweetheart, when it comes to you, our future is crystal-fucking-clear.”
“How about you nix the whole Andrew Harris thing, and you and I just stick with our current names?”
He lifts a playful brow. “And the rest?”
“Minivans are a hard no.” He frowns. “But babies sound pretty good,” I add softly. The warmth in his eyes is enough to confirm once again that Belinda Carlisle knew what she was talking about. Heaven really is a place on earth.
“Looks you better start getting naked, Andy. We have a lot of work to do.”
His responding expression is downright salacious and tells me all I need to know.
Yes, please.
My husband might be crazy.
But for today and tomorrow and the rest of forever, he is all mine.
Thank everything for that.
THE END
Do you love Andrew and Birdie and want more Hollywood rom-coms from Max Monroe?
Have no fear, girlfriend! There are two other hilarious stand-alone books in the series!
And, even better news, you can read them right now!
Taming Hollywood’s Baddest Boy (Luca and Billie’s book)
Winning Hollywood’s Goodest Girl (Harrison and Rocky’s book)
Do you need something else from Max Monroe RIGHT NOW?
Have you read our best-selling, billionaire romantic comedy My Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend?
NO?!
You must click here immediately, then!
Or, if you need more convincing, read on to see a short excerpt first. ;)
BEEN THERE, DONE THAT TO ALL OF THE ABOVE?
Never fear, we have a list of almost THIRTY other titles to keep you busy for as long as your little reading heart desires!
Check them out here!
Stay up-to-date with our characters and us by signing up for our newsletter! We’ll be announcing our NEXT new release soon!
You may live to regret much, but we promise it won’t be this.
Seriously, we make it fun!
Character conversations about royal babies, parenting woes, embarrassing moments, and shitty horoscopes are just the beginning!
If you’re already signed up, consider sending us a message to tell us how much you love us. We really like that. ;)
Follow us online:
Facebook
Reader Group
Twitter
Instagram
Goodreads
My Brother’s Billionaire Best Friend Excerpt
Maybe
Here I rest, you guys.
R. I. Mother-flapjacking P. to me.
And now, I’m coming to you live from what I believe is the afterlife.
Just think of this as that morning show with Kelly Ripa and Ryan Seacrest, Live with Kelly and Ryan.
Only, change the name to DEAD with Maybe, take away the celebrity guests, and fill the audience with people who don’t mind witnessing a full-on embarrassment-fueled emotional breakdown.
Good God, if I would’ve known I was going to kick the bucket right before I reached twenty-five, I sure as shit wouldn’t have spent the last six years of my life slaving away at Stanford for a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English Lit.
I would’ve partied in college rather than studying until my eyeballs bled.
I would’ve danced on bars. Flashed some nip for beads at Mardi Gras. Actually gone to Mardi Gras.
I would have indulged in unlimited pasta night at the Olive Garden instead of counting carbs, and I wouldn’t have stopped binge-watching Game of Thrones on season flipping six.
I would have tongue-kissed loads of guys and spread my legs like a contortionist for any of them who seemed reasonably adept.
You know, a little bam-bam in my ham-ham.
Some not-too-big, but not-too-small P in my V.
A good old-fashioned pants-off dance-off…
Sex, you guys. I’m talking about sex. And if you haven’t picked up what I’m putting down