They looked up at me, both with big black eyes, chocolate crumbles and vanilla cream all over their faces, and nodded.

I turned to my husband, leaned in and touched lips, then I did the same on my daughter’s wet mouth.

When I was done, she shoved her face in her daddy’s neck and giggled. This was because her daddy was tickling her again.

As for me, I just smiled at her daddy.

Then I followed Indy through the room to the stairs.

She led us to her bedroom. In it were Jet, Roxie, Jules, Ava, Stella, Sadie, Daisy and Shirleen.

Oh man.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” Ava answered.

“Oh God, please tell me no one’s pregnant. I can’t keep the birthdays straight already,” Roxie moaned.

Daisy gave me a look.

I ignored it.

Indy went into her walk-in closet saying, “Be right back.”

“Does anybody know what’s happening?” Sadie asked.

“Not me,” Stella answered.

All eyes came to me.

I shrugged.

All eyes grew dubious.

I threw up my hands. “Seriously,” I snapped. “I don’t know.”

Luckily, at this juncture, Indy came out of the bathroom carrying a bubble envelope.

“I hope that isn’t a secret mission we all have to go on because I’m kind of liking this kidnapping-free, stun-gun-free, car-explosion-free lifestyle,” Jules said. “And for a while now, we’ve had a good roll going.”

“That’s because you don’t live in LA,” Stella muttered.

We all looked to Stella and nodded.

We got her.

Suffice it to say, Mace’s men in LA had much the same taste in women as the men in Denver.

But in LA, you could get up to all kinds of crazy.

“Um… just to say, I kinda miss stun gunning,” Jet admitted

That was when we all looked to her and nodded.

We got her.

Though, I didn’t share that I’d stun-gunned someone just last week.

“It’s not a mission,” Indy told Jules and handed the envelope to me, her eyes coming to mine. “It’s from Jane.” She looked through the girls. “She wanted us all together and she wanted Ally to open it.”

I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

Because after pink and through green, lilac, blue, peach, salmon and ice blue, Jane had asked us to do the same thing.

I didn’t know why Jane didn’t participate in the festivities, but I did know that was her way.

With all eyes again on me, I slit open the envelope and slid out what was inside.

It was a berry colored book with a film strip and a white title.

Rock Chick.

Up the side in black, there was a strip that said Revolution.

It was my turn.

Righteous.

One thing I knew.

That book was going to be interesting.

And another thing I knew.

An Italian hothead was not going to be very happy.

I wasn’t worried. He’d get over it.

Because by then, he was used to it.

But mostly because he’d do it like all the men did it.

In his case: for me.

(And he didn’t fool me. I’d seen him grinning when he was reading the other ones.)

I scanned the cover and saw on the bottom, stuck to the side, was a sticky note. On it was an arrow pointing to the name, “Kristen Ashley” that said under it, New York Times Bestselling Author.

And next to that was written:

See?

Told you.

Fairytales come true.

I couldn’t help it and didn’t try.

I burst into tears.

At the same time I burst out laughing.

Then I flipped the book around for all to see.

That meant all the Rock Chicks gathered around me did the exact same thing.

Through my laughter and tears I lifted my hand straight up in the air, index finger and pinkie extended in devil’s horns.

The Rock Chicks did the same as me.

And because we were Rock Chicks, at the same time, we shouted two words.

We did it loud.

And we did it proud.

“Rock on!”

Except Shirleen.

She shook her head, looked around and muttered, “White women.”

Which of course meant we quit crying.

But we kept laughing.

Stay tuned.

We’re gonna follow Mace and Stella to Los Angeles.

‘Cause you can get up to all kinds of crazy there.