Rocky Ground (Hollywood Kiwis #4) Read Online Wendy Smith

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Hollywood Kiwis Series by Wendy Smith

Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)


Jessie Lane’s career is in trouble. Her reputation for being difficult to work with is costing her roles, and now someone’s making threats against her life.
Shane Johnson has tried to retire from security work. But when Jessie’s manager makes him an offer he can’t refuse, he takes on the protection of the auburn haired spitfire.
She thinks he’s a neanderthal. He thinks she’s a spoiled Hollywood princess. It’s a rocky road to true love.
But when Jessie opens up about her dark past, Shane knows he has to do everything to help her achieve her dreams.
Even if it means letting her go.

Full Book:



Of course it’s raining on the day of my mother’s funeral.

Abigail Lane would be so proud that the heavens opened up and wept at the thought of her demise. She always did want to be important.

The car slows before coming to a stop, and I screw up my face at the rain. Despite my mixed feelings about today, I made an effort to dress nicely for the service, and it would also be typical of my mother to make a mess of my outfit.

The driver opens the door and holds out his hand. I take it, step out onto the sidewalk, and give him a small smile as he hands me an umbrella.

“Thank you. I should have thought.”

He shakes his head. “I always carry one in the car, and you’ll need it today.”

I’m so awful; I can’t even remember his name. He did tell me, but he’s not wearing a name tag, and I’m not that observant of my manners at the best of times. But he’s an older man, at a guess in his sixties, and his smile is kind.

Kindness is the last thing I want today.

“Thank you.”

I’m tempted to just get back in the car and have him drive me away. I’m not even sure why I’m honouring her wish to be buried—cremation feels so much more final than this. It’s not like she ever took my wishes into consideration.

I tighten the grip on the umbrella and walk up the path toward the grave site, sighing when I have to step off and onto the grass. My six-inch heels sink into the soft ground, and I roll my eyes.

Mom’s not worth destroying a thousand-dollar pair of Louboutins for, but I’ll take the hit if it means seeing her in the ground.

A group of people have gathered around the grave, and a tall man wearing a suit approaches me as I get closer.

“Jessie Lane? I’m Jamie Mulrose.”

I nod. “It’s good to meet you.”

He extends his hand, and I shake it. This is the first time I’ve met the funeral director in person—all our discussions have been over the phone. But I wanted my time here to be as brief as possible, and fly in and out.

I’m sure he’s wondering why I didn’t want a full service. I chose the quickest option. He’ll say some words by the grave, she’ll get lowered into it, and then I’ll leave. Nice and simple.

It shouldn’t surprise me that there are people here—I’m sure she’s made friends in the ten-plus years since I’ve seen her. None of them know the real her, the depths that she’d sink to, and my stomach twists at that thought.

But today is about me, and maybe it’s selfish to think that, but I don’t care. She left me with a ton of baggage I’ll be carrying for the rest of my life and never gave me the bare minimum of an apology.

“Let’s get started. I’m sure you’ll want to get out of the rain.” Jamie smiles.

“Yes, please.”

We take a few more steps and I’m on steadier ground again with the mats they’ve laid out around the grave.

“I’ll just give you a moment,” he says, and gestures to the grave, stepping back as I step closer.

“Thank you.”

My nerves are on such a thin thread that it’d be easy to snap over the smallest of things today. I have to try and keep myself under control.

At least for now.

I only have a moment before someone moves in my peripheral vision, and I tighten my grip on my umbrella as a hand rests on my shoulder.

I’ve never been good with people randomly touching me, but today I guess it’s par for the course.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” a woman’s voice gently murmurs.

I’m not.

“Thank you.”

Relieved when she removes her hand before I shrug it off, I take a step forward toward the hole in the ground my mother is to be lowered into.

Warm rain continues to fall.

The dirt turns to mud, which slides down into the grave.

Usually, I’d think this was depressing, but it seems apt given the mess she made of me.

The service starts, but my eyes are focused on the poplar casket, waiting to be buried. I thought I’d have more peace seeing it, but all it does is stir up the anger that constantly bubbles away inside me.