Sam sent me an email today, apparently he'd found this really cool thing on some website and wanted to show it to me . . .
I wish he hadn't. Because there in week thirty-nine was the dreaded fucking watermelon. And it got worse, by week forty, your baby was the size of a pumpkin. A fucking pumpkin, let that sink in.
YOU ARE READING
Elsie-Rae's Having a Baby
ChickLitAfter a series of disastrous dates Elsie's sister set her up on a blind date with Will. He was obnoxious, unbearable and totally irresistible. Find out how one night of fun leads to a lifetime of responsibility. Book 2