He slid his pinkie finger into the envelope and opened the flap. There was a small piece of paper inside it, and he slipped it out and opened it.

“Well? What does it say?”

Miles looked at me and flipped the piece of paper.

I gasped.

“He gave me top marks. Ninety-six-percent.” I clapped my hands over my mouth, and my legs buckled.

If it weren’t for Miles grabbing me, I’d have dropped to the ground in a puddle.

“Oh, my God! I finish this section with an A! Miles!” I gripped onto his arms. “It’s enough for the design course! It’s automatic approval! My average is an A!”

He smiled against the side of my head. “Of course it is. I never doubted you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Once upon a time. Come on. Don’t hold my arsehole days against me.”

“Forever,” I whispered, kissing him. “Hehehe! I have an A and free range in your greenhouse! This is the best!”

He laughed, wrapping me up in his arms. “You are insane, do you know that?”

“I know, but you love me anyway.”

“I do.” He pressed his lips to mine. “I love you, Gabriella. A hell of a lot.”

I grinned. “I love you, too, Grumpy Gardener.”

“Am I still under that in your phone?”

“Forever.”

THE END

Thank you for reading LOVE LANGUAGE, Gabriella and Miles’ story! I hope you enjoyed this foray into the United Kingdom and the upper echelons of British society.

This story absolutely stands alone, but if you’re interested in reading more in The Aristocrat Diaries, check out the second book in this series of standalones.

DATING THE DUKE is Adelaide’s story, and I’m immensely excited to bring you my take on a modern-day aristocratic fake relationship.

For more information, visit: www.emmahart.org/dating-the-duke

DATING THE DUKE

A duke and a writer walk into a bar, and the barman says—never mind. They’re in the library, and they’re not wearing any clothes. Oops.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would.

Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession.

Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester—who happens to be a regular in my highly inappropriate midnight dreams.

Thirty-year-old Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be. And when he shares with me that he needs a date for a charitable event, my mouth betrays me by offering myself up for the evening.

How I find myself naked in the library is another matter entirely. Ahem.

When the society papers declare us an item, neither of us have the heart to tell our families the truth. Only my twin sister and best friend know the truth, but they both agree we need to keep up the charade, even if only for the summer.