Number Neighbors
Contents (23)
- NUMBER NEIGHBORS
- CHAPTER ONE – HANNAH
- CHAPTER TWO – HANNAH
- CHAPTER THREE – HANNAH
- CHAPTER FOUR – HANNAH
- CHAPTER FIVE – ISAAC
- CHAPTER SIX – HANNAH
- CHAPTER SEVEN – HANNAH
- CHAPTER EIGHT – HANNAH
- CHAPTER NINE – HANNAH
- CHAPTER TEN – ISAAC
- CHAPTER ELEVEN – ISAAC
- CHAPTER TWELVE – HANNAH
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN – HANNAH
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HANNAH
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN – HANNAH
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN – ISAAC
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – HANNAH
- EPILOGUE – HANNAH
- THE END
- COMING SOON: HOT MESS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- BOOKS BY EMMA HART

Table of Contents
TITLE
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE – HANNAH
CHAPTER TWO – HANNAH
CHAPTER THREE – HANNAH
CHAPTER FOUR – HANNAH
CHAPTER FIVE – ISAAC
CHAPTER SIX – HANNAH
CHAPTER SEVEN – HANNAH
CHAPTER EIGHT – HANNAH
CHAPTER NINE – HANNAH
CHAPTER TEN – ISAAC
CHAPTER ELEVEN – ISAAC
CHAPTER TWELVE – HANNAH
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – HANNAH
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HANNAH
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – HANNAH
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – ISAAC
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – HANNAH
EPILOGUE – HANNAH
THE END
COMING SOON: HOT MESS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY EMMA HART
NUMBER NEIGHBORS
Copyright © Emma Hart, 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Design by Emma Hart
Editing by Ellie at My Brother’s Editor
CHAPTER ONE – HANNAH
I Don’t Even Like Cats
If someone had told me that at the age of twenty-five I’d be a financially stable homeowner with an eight-week-old stray kitten living in a shoebox under my stairs, I, well.
I would have only believed the part about the kitten.
Probably. I mean, I wasn’t particularly a cat person. You know the type: the ones who get one cat then end up with ten in the next six months and lie on the sofa every night in a giant puddle of meowy floof.
No, I wasn’t one of those people.
I also wasn’t entirely one hundred percent financially stable, but I could pay my mortgage and eat relatively well. By relatively well, I mean I didn’t eat take out every single night.
Just sometimes.
Okay, four times a week, but I totally ordered salads, too.
A noisy meow that sounded more like a demand than anything came from the general vicinity of my feet. Glancing down, I saw a tiny black ball of fluff, one that stood out starkly against my white kitchen floor tiles. Two blue eyes looked up at me, and another large meow was accompanied by the most pathetic showing of tiny fangs I’d ever seen in my life.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. Somewhat stupidly, honestly. This kitten was almost always hungry.
Another meow.
“Fine, okay, hang on.” I reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small pouch of kitten food. More meowing accompanied as I put half of it into a stainless-steel bowl and clipped the pouch up to keep the rest of it fresh. “I’m not going to put this down if you’re going to keep yelling at me, Lucifer.”
Yes, I called the kitten Lucifer.
No, that wasn’t its name.
I had no idea what to call it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it—and no matter what Immy and Grandma Jen said, it wasn’t mine just because I’d fed it.