Damn you, Quentin. I’m about to take a beer out of the fridge when I change my mind. I feel guilty about it. I start to take a soda and feel guilty about that, touching my stomach. The caffeine probably isn’t doing me any good either. Sighing, I take a bottle of water, trudge upstairs, and flop on the bed. Not for long. I still need to make dinner for the kids, and I ate the damned leftovers. It’s a boxed meal tonight. I don’t feel like eating, or doing anything really, but I drag myself back off the bed and downstairs. “Mom, lay down,” Karen says as she stops me in the hallway. “I need to cook dinner, honey.” “I can handle it,” she says cheerily. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” “Don’t burn the house down.” “I’m not going to burn the house down.” I sigh. “Good, don’t.
What do You think about His Princess (A Royal Romance)?
