Censorshipped (Getting Shipped! #4) Read Online Savannah Scott

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Getting Shipped! Series by Savannah Scott

Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)

I am finally over my crush on Duke. Completely done.

Duke’s always been like a big brother to me … a big brother with abs of steel, a heart of gold, and those dimples that make my heart rate double whenever he smiles.
As far as Duke’s concerned, I’ll always be his best friend Chris’ little sister—the little girl who dunked his Darth Vader action figure in Elmers glue and glitter.
Even if Duke noticed me, it wouldn’t matter. I’m so off limits, I may as well be wearing an outfit made entirely of caution tape. We both know Chris would enlist a special ops tactical team to hunt Duke down if he ever pursued anything beyond friendship with me.
Good thing I’m over Duke. One hundred percent attraction-free, that’s me. Well, mostly … until I accidentally send him one of my usual scrambled texts (thank you, autocorrect) … and he thinks I’m hitting on him.
I’m mortified enough to momentarily consider relocating someplace obscure like Greenland. I can never show my face around town again. I’ll buy a parka and an ice pick and learn to love fish. A lot.
But then Duke answers my text …




“And single, single, double. And single, single, double. That’s right, now with attitude!”

I swivel my hips and pull my arms toward myself and push away in time to the music.

Glancing in the mirror, I stifle a giggle at the sight of the room full of senior women all attempting some version of pivoting their hips in time to the music. Half of them are beyond adorable. The other half border on terrifying.

“Shake it, don’t break it, Mabel” Esther shouts over the music.

“I’m thinking I’ll do both!” Mabel says, laughing.

The last beats of the song fade and I lead the group through a cool down. As I reach up and let my arms slowly fall to my sides with the final exhale, I see a pair of eyes I’d recognize anywhere peering through the tiny window in the door to our Rec Center dance studio.

Those eyes: green with brown flecks and this orange rim around the iris. Intense, yet playful. Never fully telling you what you want to know about the man behind them, but somehow still drawing you near because he’s so irresistible. Trouble, your name is Duke.

He’s here to coach little league. Which is outdoors in the ball field, naturally, not right here in the hallway outside the dance studio. But, of course, in typical Duke style, he’s scoping me out.

Not in that way.

Not in the way I want him to.

He’s just my older brother’s best friend, the most off-limits man on the planet. And he’s checking in on me because he’s always been like that. Flirty because it’s his nature. And protective of me because–well I don’t know why.

He waggles his eyebrows and winks.

I roll my eyes, which yes, I know, makes me seem like the sixteen year old version of myself instead of the twenty-six year old woman I am.

Several heads in the room have turned toward the door, following my gaze and catching on as to who is standing on the other side. I quickly shout out, “Don’t forget! No class next Saturday because of the wedding!” But I think only one or two of the women are listening to me anymore now that Duke has arrived.

Esther, one of the seniors who comes regularly to my class, walks over and pulls the handle. “Oh, Duke! You just missed class. Shannon really had us doing all the gyrations and swivels like we were in our forties. You ought to come some time.”

“I just might,” Duke answers her, his eyes on me as he says the words.

Is that a threat or a promise? Or both?

“It’s Senior Zumba,” I mutter to myself. “Seniors only.”

“We can bring guests,” Esther’s best friend, Mabel, says, apparently using her hearing aids today. “Remember when Bonnie Milgarden’s grandkids were here for the holiday break? She brought ’em. Duke’s just like one of our kids or grandkids.”

Then she shouts across the room. “Aren’t cha, Duke?”

“Far be it from me to argue with you, Mabel.” Duke answers in his typical genial tone, flashing her a smile that always seems to get him what he wants.

I plaster on a grin and drop the subject. Maybe if I’m lucky, Duke will forget Esther’s invitation and all the seniors will forget it too. Though, their forgetfulness seems relegated to things like where they put their glasses or keys, never gossip, and they definitely will not forget asking Duke to come to my class.

While the women all flock to the door to socialize with Duke, I remove my headset, wipe my face with my hand towel, throw it in my duffle with my phone and bluetooth speaker, and then I stride toward the door.

Duke moves out of the way and props himself against the wall across the hallway, allowing everyone to pass through without his broad, muscular frame blocking the way.