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switching from the camera to the SuperLift app.
Lol lift
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“This is my castle!” Portia shouted as she stabbed out with her imaginary dagger. “The drawbridge is up and you can’t come in!”
I have no idea what the fuck is going on
Portia was not having the same reaction at all. Her boss acted like a gruff, annoying jerk, but dammit there was something about a man who could casually mention Middle Cornish at dinner conversation without sounding pretentious that Portia found irresistible. It didn’t matter—she would resist.
My kind of guy
What do you mean there’s no Wi-Fi?”
So like does she learn to live less on the internet in this story?
How the neighborhood was being gentrified was something she’d heard Tavish, Jamie, and Cheryl discussing over dinner. She’d listened awkwardly, wondering if they knew about her parents’ real estate ventures or how much property she owned in neighborhoods that had once been like Bodotria: emerging, as realtors liked to call them. She’d thought herself conscientious, someone who gave back and participated in her community, but she hadn’t really questioned what exactly the hoods were emerging from and who was left behind when they did. Her parents made sure there was low-income housing in their
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Gentrification is SUCH BULLSHIT AND LEAVES PEOPLE WITH LOW INCOME WITH NO PLACE TO LIVE AND ITS SHIT
PORTIA’S QUICK STOP at the bookshop had turned into an hour helping Mary look up affordable internet plans and better wholesale coffee, which then led to a discussion of ways she could bring in more customers. Portia had left Mary to call the owner of the wine shop down the street in order to arrange a book/wine pairing event,
That’s actually really cool
“I know you don’t have a serious bone in your body, but your mother and I think this could be good for you,” her father continued, carelessly crushing that happiness with the weight of his words. “Really get you into a routine, you know? We just want to see you settled down.”
“It’s only three months, I suppose, but really, when are you going to get serious about your life? When we were your age, we were already married, parents, and starting our second business.” “Your mother’s right, Portia. We’ve indulged you for years but . . . you’re almost thirty. Enough with the grad school, and the internships, and the ‘experience.’ You need to make some decisions about what you’re going to do with your life. Just look at how well Regina’s doing, and you don’t even have her . . . issues.”
Her parents are kind of assholes
She’d wanted to make Reggie proud . . .
“Don’t get offended! I’m one of you! Let’s see what we have in common.” She held up her hands, hitting her right index finger against the fingers of the left as she began her list. “Always missing deadlines? Fuck yeah. Is ‘Impulsive’ your middle name? Yup! Do you constantly forget to pay your bills, even though the money is just chillin’ in your bank account? Come on, you know you could have paid that shit three months ago. Can you play guitar, paint a still life in watercolor AND oil, and bake a seventeen-layer cake, but can’t remember to move your laundry to the dryer?” Caridad paused for
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The tension that had started to release its grip on her back and shoulders readjusted and dug its claws in even deeper. Getting talked down to by your father over the phone was one thing, but being humiliated by your boss in front of people you barely knew was quite another.
She is just getting shit on by everyone today
“Come here, Freckles.” He looked up at her. “Please.”
Naw, fuck you
“I don’t do taming,” Portia said nonchalantly. “That requires time and effort that I could be putting into myself.”
That shit sounds like me lol
Her gaze skittered to the ground, but in the second during which they’d locked eyes, Tav had felt it like a solid thing knocking into him. Desire. He wasn’t a fucking mind reader, but he was old enough to know when someone was giving him the eye. Portia had been thinking something decidedly naughty. About him.
Yyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I just want them to fuck at this point lol
Between their age difference
I feel like age difference after like 25 shouldn’t matter
I thought there’d be more banging.” Her eyes went wide and she glanced away. “With hammers. On a forge.”
Who knew talking about weapon making was so sexual
@girlswithglasses @dideyedothat Ooo, is that your boss’s back in that selfie? I would spray him all right, but not with mace. #sorrynotsorry
Lololol
“And I didn’t think you would be so . . .” Portia’s gaze darted to his face, and the silver hair at his temples, and his salt-and-pepper scruff, and that full mouth, and suddenly everything she had been trying to ignore about him stuck an arm out and clotheslined her as she tried to run from her attraction to him. Oh no. Way to fucking go, Portia. Tav was staring at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. “. . . tall,” she finished, unable to think of another descriptor that wouldn’t reveal her for the loser she was. Tav quirked a brow. “Tall. Right.”
Portia wasn’t fond of coding, but tweaking the website’s template herself had been worth it.
Coding is a bitch
She turned to walk away, but something wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place. Tav’s thumb and forefinger. He was strong as fuck, his grip enough to hold her though she knew he was exerting the barest effort. If he really tried to hold her down . . . A shiver went through her and settled in her belly, warm like good whiskey and just as bad for her. Somewhere deep inside of her, the kernel sprouted one bright green leaf. Dammit. She looked down at him and there was heat in his gaze, a heat that probably matched the sensation that inched up her neck and over her skin. His eyes dropped to
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I swear they just need to fuck
“Here’s the thing with teasing. It might seem like torture now, sitting there wanting what you can’t have, but when you finally get it? It’ll be the best you’ve ever had. The best ribs, that is.”
“Of course, you would be a fantastic kisser,” she said, and if he wasn’t mistaken she was stressed about it. “I’m fantastic at everything,” he said, ducking his head back down toward hers. He’d sipped from the Holy Grail, and now he needed another taste.
“I need help now. I need to print this article and . . . do you have any books about dukes?” The librarian’s eyes went wide and she rubbed her hands together with glee. “We have a fantastic romance section,” she said. “Do you need recommendations? How do you like your dukes? Grumpy? Tortured? Alpha, beta, or alpha in the streets, beta in the sheets?”
OMFFGGGGGGGG
Portia took a deep breath. “The estate is valued at basically a shit ton of money. Think about what you could do with that. You could fix up the armory. Expand the community programs you’ve started. You’d be able to make an even bigger difference.”
She a smart bitch, I like her
“Hey, Kevyn,” she said sweetly, and the git had the nerve to be blushing when he turned to face her. “How’s it going, love?” “How are the wife and wean, Kevvo?” Tav asked, shoving his face forward between them. Kevyn grimaced. “Hey, Tav. They’re good, they are.” He turned his face back toward the road.
“Hello, I’m Portia Hobbs, assistant to His Actual Grace, Tavish McKenzie, the Duke of Edinburgh,” Portia responded, gesturing toward Tav. David curled his lip in response.
Lololololololololololololol, yassssssssss bitch
“So exactly how did your mother meet the former duke?” David asked with insinuation in his voice. “He did seem rather susceptible to the charms of commoners, but he had other, more tawdry, inclinations people say.”
So he’s trying to get choked out
“I made this.” The fury was gone from his face. He looked stunned. “This was one of the first pieces I sold when I opened the armory. It was a special request, made to replicate one from the buyer’s family line.”
“Your father must have . . .” Portia stopped. That truth meant so many things. His father had known about his business. He may have even communicated with Tavish himself. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, no matter how adamantly he claimed he didn’t care about his biological father. He laughed ruefully. “I remember receiving a letter afterward, thanking me for my fine craftsmanship. And I made several more pieces for the buyer over the years. They ordered products regularly to sell in their shop, you know.” He placed the sword back on its mount. “I guess now I know why some of my
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“I’m guessing this is the Maury moment?” Portia asked. She sipped her tea. “Maury?” Leslie asked. “It’s a talk show where women go on and get paternity tests done, dear,” Francis said. “Quite amusing. And yes, the Duke of Edinburgh was indeed the father.”
“But when you talk about fake personas and silly rituals, remember that some of us can’t opt out of that stuff. Before I even open my mouth, I’m judged based on whether I’m perceived to be pretty enough or wearing the right thing—not too revealing, not too frumpy, not too cheap looking, not too fancy. When I do talk, it’s whether I’m articulate enough. So while you’re rightfully annoyed by this, just remember that at least half of the population has to adopt these fake personas and silly rituals just to get through the day.”
Dating after his marriage had always ranged from “She’s a fun lass” to “this will work for now,” but as they sat eating the food of his childhood and opening up to each other, Tavish felt something come into alignment. He’d been attracted to Portia before that night. He had grown accustomed to her presence. But the churn of emotions staging a tourney in his rib cage was more than those two things—he wanted her. He was well aware that he couldn’t and shouldn’t but he did, and Christ’s sake was he ever screwed.
“Because I like spending time with you. I like you. And I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You guys bet on me?” Portia wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Actually, she did know, and it wasn’t great. “And only twenty bucks? You’re royalty!”
Leslie looked away from Tavish then, and there was misery in her eyes, so plain that Portia wondered if she was even trying to hide it. “I’m here to seduce a duke.”
Leslie said matter-of-factly. She handed off the invitation to Portia. “I was also supposed to see if you’d like to take me as your date to the ball.” “Me?” Portia asked. “No, though that would be lovely.
Yo I think she likes girls 🧐
“I really am going to have to pay you a million pounds for helping me manage this shite,” he said irritably, and Portia cringed. It was ridiculous—so ridiculous. She was the one who had said there couldn’t be anything more between them, but still, nothing clarified your relationship to a man better than an offer of pounds sterling for your services.
Girl you know he’s been talking about helping him with the Duke stuff so I don’t know I can’t take it like that when it’s not like that
“I’m discovering I have a lot of ‘things.’ Feet. Ass. Collarbones. Nose. Freckles. One common denominator, though.”
I just love how much he’s telling her that he’s so into her like he just is really laying his heart out and I love it
Do you love her? They came to a panting sweaty stop and Tavish stared down at her as she threw her head back, letting the sun filtering through the trees warm her face. I really could. Maybe I already do? This is not good.
Honestly I just love this line
He was a fuckboy with a heart of gold.
A dream
She had been rejected by Tavish,
He literally never rejected you but OK
That was all he saw between them in the end: an apprenticeship.
Where are you getting this from
“Christ, the two of you. Now can you see how frustrating it is trying to give you a compliment, Freckles?” Tav asked, shifting closer to her as he tugged at his kilt. Part of her was taken aback by his gruff words, but then his fingertips brushed over the back of her hand and she realized that someone being annoyed because they thought you were greater than you could imagine was perhaps not the worst situation one could find themselves in.
“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Tavish said. “Are you the Washburn who’s been advocating against sanctuary for immigrants? I imagine you won’t find me amusing for long.”
Yes bitch
Johan was usually playful, but his stance and expression made it clear that behind his charming demeanor was a man who would gladly throw down, and was possibly looking for an opportunity to do just that.
“We might just have to shank an ex-duke.”
YES WE’RE SHANKING PEOPLE
