Copyright © Lovy Books Ltd, 2019

Summer Cooper has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to beidentified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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CONTENTS

1. Emily

2. Dylan

3. Emily

4. Dylan

5. Emily

6. Dylan

7. Dylan

8. Emily

9. Dylan

10. Emily

11. Dylan

12. Emily

13. Dylan

14. Emily

15. Dylan

16. Emily

17. Dylan

18. Emily

19. Dylan

20. Emily

About Summer Cooper

1

EMILY

“Emily, we’ll be back around nine. Don’t let the kids stay up too late.”

Jessi, my sister-in-law, said from the doorway to the living room.

As if her twin girls would ever listen to a thing I said. The door closed, and I turned to my twin nieces. “Who wants ice cream?”

The two little girls, identical blonde, sweet tyrants, screamed with joy as they looked back at me with gray eyes so similar to mine. They could be mine, if I wasn’t so busy all the time. I pushed the thought away and stood up from the pillow fort they’d built around me to head into the kitchen.

Harry, the baby brother of the twins, slept in a playpen near the dark gray leather sofa, so I left him there. He was a growing boy, and he needed his sleep.

Soon enough he’d join his older sisters in the kitchen with me.

I found the girls on bar stools around the marble island in the kitchen. It was the kind of kitchen any baker would love. It was Jessi’s kitchen, after all, and she needed three industrial sized ovens. I turned to the fridge, the same stainless steel as the oven, stove, and microwave, and asked which ice cream the girls wanted.

“I want strawberry, please, Aunty.” Breanna, always the polite one, informed me sweetly.

“Yuck! I don’t like strawberry! I would like rocky road, please.” Rhiannon, the bossier of the two and always the most opinionated, cried out from her perch by her sister.

They were two peas in a pod, but they were also quite different when it came

to their personalities. Even if they were identical.

“You two don’t know how lucky you are to have a mother who’s a baker,” I

muttered, more to myself than to them. I pulled out two cartons of ice cream from the freezer and a plate of brownies from the drawer above it. I microwaved the brownies for a minute and added the ice cream to each bowl, before I added a spoon and gave the bowls to the girls.

I’d only put in small amounts, the girls were still little after all, and sat with them, a small bowl of my own in front of me. “What movie are we going to watch, girls?”

The girls began to argue about which family-friendly movie they wanted to

watch first, and my thoughts drifted. Jessi and Trent were off for a charity ball, and I’d been enlisted to watch the girls and baby Harry. I knew the routine. I’d helped with babysitting since the girls were first born and had also helped with my other nieces and nephews.