Lock, Stock, and Feral Addison Moore (beginner reading books for adults TXT) 📖

furry, the inn has been voted the most pet friendly resort along the coast of Maine.

The inn butts up against a sandy cove that stretches out in either direction. But the real star of the show is the gorgeous Atlantic Ocean, with its powerful navy waves and the never-ending spectacle of whitewash slapping against the shore.

“Yes to all of it,” I say to Emmie as we go over the prospective menu options we’re thinking about implementing. “What about crab cakes?”

“I knew I was forgetting something. Of course, we’re serving crab cakes.” She quickly jots it down. “And you’re okay with lobster in its every iteration?”

“I’m more than okay with it. Maine catches ninety percent of the country’s lobster. We practically owe it to our guests to serve it in its every iteration. And as soon as you whip up a lobster pie, I want the very first bite.” I wrinkle my nose at the row of thatched umbrellas dotting the sand and the rows and rows of blue and white striped lounge chairs set out for the guests to enjoy. “Although, my appetite is waning.”

“You’re still hung up on that Hadley woman, aren’t you?”

“Do you realize she played Esmeralda in Esmeralda the Teenage Magician? She’s a star, and she’s beautiful, and—she and Jasper spent all night arguing about who knows what.”

She winces. “Leo filled me in. He said Hadley and Jasper were pretty serious for almost a year, but that it ended abruptly. I guess that was before Camila. I’m sorry, Bizzy. I can imagine Camila’s glee when she told you about that whole one that got away thing. So what did Jasper have to say for himself?”

“Nothing yet. He came home at three-thirty in the morning and was out the door before I got up. He said we’d catch up on everything tonight.”

Fish, Clyde, and Sherlock scamper in this direction as both Fish and Clyde jump right into my arms before a gaggle of kids can snatch them. But Sherlock isn’t that lucky, he’s mobbed in an instant.

“I got this,” Emmie says. “Hey kids?” she shouts. “Who would like some free cookies?”

The crowd of pint-sized hellions screams with delight as they follow her to the café.

“That was a close one,” I say, giving both Fish and Clyde a kiss in turn.

Last night when we got back to the cottage, Clyde told us all about the fact she was born in a field nearby and that she and her siblings all had to fend for themselves. Considering the fact she’s not at all scrawny, I’d say she was excellent at keeping her tummy full. But regardless, she has an appointment with the vet in an hour, and I’m making sure she keeps it. But I haven’t said a peep about it to the furry among us. No sooner do I say the V word than both Fish and Sherlock start shivering like a leaf—not to mention they go into hiding and make it impossible to catch them.

Clyde mewls up at me and her eyes shine like cobalt. The little one with pigtails wanted to take me home! she snips it out rather incensed.

“That’s because you’re so cute.”

Fish lets out a hearty meow. It’s because she’s playful. I’m sorry to tell you, Bizzy, but she clawed her way up the curtains this morning before you woke up. I tried to stop her.

I suck in a quick breath. “You don’t want to do that, Clyde. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

Fish yowls, What Bizzy is trying to say is you could hurt her curtains. The curtains are off-limits, as are the countertops and the table. And don’t even think of using the furniture as a scratching post or she’ll pull out the clippers and cut your claws off.

Clyde hops right out of my arms and lands on Sherlock’s back with a plop. I won’t touch anything of yours, Bizzy, if you promise not to get near my claws. I need them to survive. Besides—she wraps her limbs over Sherlock’s back as if she were holding on for dear life. Mr. Bones here will protect me. Won’t you, sugar? She gives his fur a few quick licks. A big, strong animal like you could protect just about anybody.

Sherlock makes an odd yelping noise in response. I’m especially protective of cute little kittens such as yourself.

Oh brother. Fish rolls her eyes.

Come on—Clyde spurs him on with a pat of her paws—take me for a ride. Why don’t you show me around this place, big boy?

Fish ticks her head back and scoffs as the two of them lumber on down the cobblestone walk. Would you look at that? She turns her head my way with a jerk. She’s shamelessly flirting with him so he’ll do her bidding. You saw it yourself. Clyde is outright using him.

“I wouldn’t say that she’s using him. I think she genuinely likes him. Besides, Sherlock is perfectly loveable. We can’t blame her for falling head over paws. He’s a cutie.”

He’s an oaf.

A tiny laugh tickles my chest. “Yes, but he’s your oaf.”

Fish moans. You’re right. We need to send that kitten back into the fields. She’s disrupting the natural order of things.

“Bizzy!” a female voice shrills, and I turn to find Georgie and her sixty-something-year-old daughter Juniper Moonbeam, aka Juni, running down the walkway.

“Speaking of disturbing the natural order of things,” I say as I wave back. “How’s it going, ladies?”

Georgie has on a powder pink kaftan, and Juni is wearing a denim mini skirt with a lime green tank top and slung over her shoulder is a quilted tote bag.

Juni was once my stepmother for all of five minutes, or so it seemed. My father is sort of a bride magnet and she was number three or thirteen, I lost count. I like to tease that I got Georgie in the divorce. Juni looks exactly like Georgie but with less gray hair and a few less crow’s feet. But she has the same wily gleam in her eyes and