A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

I’m in my spinster era. Every twentysomething has one of those, right?

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Eli says, finally. “And the kind words. But I still don’t think this is something you can help with.” He stops, then meets and holds my gaze with an intensity that freezes me in place. “That is,” he continues, those blue eyes blazing, “unless you want to marry me.”

She takes the tiniest step closer to me, like I make her feel safer. Good. I like that.

Can I help it if the man makes me shine brighter? Feel lighter? And blush like a schoolgirl with a crush?

Chronic-Ills of Narnia? Get it—chronic ills? Chronicles? Such a missed opportunity.”

“I am of the opinion that if

you really want something, you sometimes have to make your own luck, even if it’s risky.”

“Who’s taking care of you, Bailey?” Eli’s words settle over me, soft as snowfall, only warm not cold. “No one,” I murmur. “I could,” Eli says, and now I’m really not sure if I’m dreaming. Because this is the exact kind of thing I wish someone would tell me. “I would.”

“But whose name will be on the back of my jersey?” His face darkens, and it only makes me push more. “Maybe Van? He’s a fun guy.” Eli’s heated look turns molten, and he shakes his head slowly. “Mine,” he says firmly, his low voice wrapping like a fist around my heart. “You can only wear my name.”

“One more thing—you will never be too much for the right woman. You’ll be exactly enough.”