Blown Away (A Romantic Comedy) (Five More Wishes Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

Jackson.” Cade loves to re-watch TV shows and yell at the screen about how he could have made it better.
    “Peter Jackson directed Lord of the Rings, not Breaking Bad,” I say.
    “I know, but he’s a fan. He has insights. Come on. I’ll order pizza.”
    I love pizza. I’d do anything for pizza. “Anchovy and pineapple pizza?”
    “Oh, come on,” he groans. “Give a guy a break.”
    “Thin crust anchovy and pineapple pizza?”
    “Thin crust? At least give me a regular crust. It’s a lot of work eating around the anchovies and pineapple. The crust is all I got.”
    I hold my own and don’t back down. It’s either anchovy and pineapple pizza, or he has to shout at the screen by himself. It’s no fun for Cade to shout at the screen without a witness to see how clever he is. “Fine,” he grumbles after a moment.
    I probably shouldn’t wait until the Breaking Bad Jane dies in her own vomit scene to tell Cade about the bun in my oven. I need to get this out, now. I can’t keep it from him any longer. “The thing is,” I start, but Cade puts his hand over my mouth.
    “Shut up,” he hisses. “Mr. Wacko Psycho Dictator is about to speak. I hope this is over fast. I need to eat a big lunch to prepare for tonight’s pizza fast.”
    Sure enough, Samba and his butler have stopped arguing, and Samba is addressing the crowd with his hands up, as if he’s about to conduct Beethoven’s Fifth. His pants are a little too white, and with the sun shining just right, I can see that he’s not wearing underpants. Yuck. The vision is giving me my first dose of morning sickness.
    “You may be wondering why I gathered you here today,” he announces in his thick accent, which sounds like a mixture of French, Spanish, and Moon Doggy surfer.
    “I think I know why. I’m figuring that the people of Oz have called him home,” Cade says, pointing at the balloon.
    My pregnancy test-laden purse distracted me from the balloon before, but now I’m wondering about it, too. At first I assumed Samba was using the balloon as a dramatic backdrop, but now I’m not so sure. His butler is sour-faced, obviously upset about something. He continues to fiddle with the ropes that hold the hot air balloon down to the ground. It’s a battle between him and the cords, and the cords look like they’re winning.
    I’ve got a bad feeling.
    Samba is smiling, talking about his love for America, which is whipping the protestors into a frenzy of outrage. Nobody in the land of the free wants him walking around free here. Even though he’s richer than Midas, he’s bringing down property values. Samba seems clueless that people don’t love him. He continues a line of blah-blah with gusto and enthusiasm.
    I need to take notes, but I’m drifting. Why is the butler untying the balloon? How can I have a baby? How can I take care of it? I wonder if the Associated Press will give me a byline when I write this story and hand it off to them. Should I tell Cade about the baby now? Should I ever tell him? What is he going to say? I’m out of paper towels. I need to buy some on the way home, today. Oh, my God, the balloon.
    The ropes look like some kind of alien predator, and they’re taking down the butler. He’s tied up in the ropes, and he’s trying to extricate himself, but he’s older than dirt with zero percent muscle mass, and the ropes are getting the better of him.
    Poor half-dead, Adams Family butler man.
    “As a farewell gift, I will give an exclusive to one lucky journalist,” Samba says, making me jump to attention. My skin prickles with excitement. I would torture a puppy for an exclusive. Well, not really, but you get the picture. I want the exclusive bad. I feel Cade’s eyes on me, and I look over. He wants the exclusive, too. I can see the cogs turn in his brain, trying to figure out how to kill me and bury me so he can get the exclusive.
    “A tell-all before I go away to pay my debt to society,” Samba continues. A tell-all. My