Page 180 of Down Knot Out
“Yeah.” His contented purr vibrates against my side. “We did.”
Dominic’s hand slips over my stomach. “And this is only the beginning.”
I flush as I imagine our pup running through the Homestead, welcoming guests and trailing after their cousin Quinn.
The greatest adventure is still ahead of us, and I can’t wait to share it with my Alphas.
The late afternoon sun slants through the windows of my writing room, painting golden stripes across the hardwood floor.
I slip inside and close the door behind me with a soft click, breathing in the familiar scent of paper and the faint trace of cedar from the new shelves that line one wall, filled with the knick-knacks from my old apartment, the glass dragon in the place of honor at the center.
After hours of mingling with guests, making small talk, and helping serve the welcome lunch, the quiet is a balm for my senses. This space, tucked above the garage, is my sanctuary, preserved even when we redesigned the Homestead after the fire.
Outside, I can see guests gathered under the pergola, wine glasses glinting in the dying light. Blake moves among them, pouring from bottles with labels bearing our resort’s name. A local vineyard had created the blend to be exclusive for our Resort.
Dominic stands at the edge of the group, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing as he tells them about the property’s history. Even from here, I can see the rapt attention on the guests’ faces.
I kick off my shoes and pad across to the desk nestled beneath the dormer window. My fluffy recliner cradles my body, and I pull my laptop onto my lap before elevating my swollen feet.
A page is already open on the screen.
The words flow, one sentence leading to the next. This new series, free from publisher constraints, feels liberating. These characters move through a world built from pieces of my own: a small-town bakery like Holden’s kitchen, a mysterious forest like the one surrounding our island, and tentacled monsters that lurk at the edge of the beaches.
The door creaks open behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Grady enters, leaning slightly on his cane as he balances a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of cookies carefully in his freehand. His blond hair is ruffled, as if he’s been running his fingers through it, and his smile still carries that same mischievous edge it did when we first met.
“Smells like smut in here,” he teases, nudging the door closed with his hip and crossing to set the tray on my desk. “Need help naming a chapter?”
I roll my eyes as I accept the tea. “Nope. I already know what it’s called.”
“Tentacles and Tarts,” he reads from my screen, settling onto the small couch across the room. “Very subtle. Holden will never guess.”
“It’s not just about him,” I protest, though we both know it’s partly a lie. “Besides, it’s not an elf this time.”
Grady laughs, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Is it going to sell as well as the Knotty Elf?”
I take a sip of herbal tea, letting the mint flavor roll across my tongue. “Maybe better.”
“Bold move.” He raises his mug in a toast. “Though after taking down the Sinclairs and building this place, I guess starting your own publishing imprint is small potatoes.”
I shrug. “That’s just a legal thing Dominic demanded I do to protect my interests.”
Grady purses his lips. “Sure you’re not going to miss the big bonuses and editors you don’t have topay out of your own pocket? Not to mention the marketing?”
“I’m rich,” I remind him. “And I have you to figure all that out for me.”
“I see how it is,” he grumbles. “Planning to work me to the bone.”
“How’s the tour schedule going?” I ask, changing the subject. “Any cancellations?”
“Fully booked through September,” he reports with pride. “And those travel writers who visited last month? Their article comes out next week. Expect a surge in bookings after it hits.”
I sigh. “I really don’t think I need the tours.”
“And that’s why I’m still your agent and not you.” He slumps lower on the sofa. “Are you nervous to debut again, this time as an Omega author?”
“No.” I nibble on my bottom lip. “Well, maybe a little.”
“It will be inspirational for other Omegas,” he assures me.
