by Roxy Wynn
Head Over Heels
Roxy Wynn
Copyright © 2020 by Roxy Wynn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To every girl who has ever been referred to as a control freak, and learned to embrace it.
Contents
Head Over Heels
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Reviews
Also by Roxy Wynn
About the Author
Head Over Heels
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of the day I would stand at the altar and marry the man of my dreams.
Instead, I found myself in a marriage of inconvenience with a Bad Boy, English Rock Star.
FML, right?!
Sarah:
As if running my bakery and being a single mom wasn’t stressful enough, I now have to deal with my sleazeball ex trying to get custody of our kid.
Just because the guy is married now and pretends he's perfect, does NOT mean he’s a better parent than I am.
He hasn’t even seen us in five years!
Maybe Mrs. Calloway’s offer to find me a fake husband wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Who knows, maybe it could even be fun.
And Alfie Lane is my favorite musician, even better!
As long as I don’t really fall in love with him, that is.
Alfie:
My agent has another thing coming if he thinks I’m ever going to settle down.
Rock Stars don't make good husbands, that's just Science 101.
But, when he reminds me of my pesky little citizenship issue, I sober up.
Turns out if I want to stay in this country, I need to find a wife. FAST!
Luckily, he knows someone who can help.
But she better not get between me and my groupies, I don't care how gorgeous she is!
**This is a STANDALONE rom-com featuring a cocky, rich hero, a badass heroine, and an HEA guaranteed to knock you off your feet! This book is steamy, snarky, and fun. I can't wait for you to read it.**
Chapter One
Sarah
“Does it… look like a penis?” Chrissy asked. The question was innocent enough, but I scanned the area before responding, to make sure none of our employees were in earshot.
A sexual harassment discussion with the crew was not on my top ten list of cool ways to start the week.
“No,” I said, dropping my voice low. “It’s a hard plastic funnel that you hold up under your lady bits, and then just let it flow.” To demonstrate, I folded a piece of parchment paper and held it to my crotch, imitating my new female urination device. Chrissy exploded into a fit of laughter, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.
Fantastic.
The prep kitchen in our bakery, Ruby’s, was bursting at the seams with activity. While the majority of our bakers worked on cookies, cinnamon rolls, and our famous croissants, Chrissy and I focused our attention on crumb coating wedding cakes.
Why she chose the busiest part of the day to bring up my kid’s potty training failures, I would never know.
“And you pee in front of him with it?” she asked, incredulous.
I shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? Ask a strange man to piss in front of my kid? That’s a To Catch a Predator episode just waiting to happen.”
As a single mom, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.
“Why does he have to learn to pee standing up, anyhow?” Tiffany asked. One of our newest managers, a charming redhead with a killer smile, Tiffany had been standing on the sidelines eavesdropping while dumping cookie dough into the portioning machine.
I made a mental note to add ‘inappropriate discussions in the workplace’ to our next team meeting.
“Guys are so gross,” she added. “My brother pees all over the toilet seat and it splashes on the floor. Then when I need to go in the middle of the night, I get piss all over my legs. It’s fucking disgusting.”
Chrissy winced. “No offense, but your brother is a pig.”
“None taken. He’s a vile human being. I can’t believe he has a serious girlfriend.” Tiffany rolled her eyes and tossed another five-pound lump of dough into the machine.
“He doesn’t have to stand up,” I said. “But he’s a little guy with a little bladder. He does great most of the time, but if he’s outside playing, he has a habit of not telling me he has to pee until it’s too late.” I sighed. “And then there’s kindergarten in less than three months. I would love if he was confident by then.”
“At least he’s out of his floating turd in the bath phase, that was rough for all of us,“ Chrissy added, laughing. She finished icing her cake and handed it to me. “You know, I bet Jax could help you out with the standing up to pee problem if you really wanted. Especially now that the two of you are moving in.” She did a little dance, as much as her pregnant body would allow, and beamed at me. “Which I am still over the moon about, by the way. You guys can stay as long as you want. I would keep you forever if it was up to me.”
Another mental note: thank Jax for expediting the condo construction on the top floor.
Chrissy had been trying to talk us into moving in since my mother put her house on the market. Even though she was married to the world’s sexiest actor and had a kid of her own on the way, Chrissy still loved sleepovers.
It was sweet, but I had questioned whether it was a good idea on more than one occasion. She had a tendency to spoil Bailey rotten.
“I don’t know,” I said, holding back laughter “It feels wrong asking someone who isn’t his dad, to whip his junk out. But thank you for offering your husband’s penis to my son. I’m sure Jax would appreciate it.”
She threw a piece of cake scrap at my face as punishment before grabbing another off the speed rack. I watched her trim the ragged edges, expertly slice it in half, fill it with raspberry jam, and then coat the entire thing in Italian buttercream. The entire process took her less than three minutes.
When it came to cakes, Chrissy was the best. While the rest of us struggled to get equal-sized layers, Chrissy could whip up an elaborate cake in her sleep. It’s why her specialty was pretty food, and mine was the boring business stuff.
If she wasn’t headed for maternity leave soon, there was no way in hell I would touch a wedding cake.
“Does Joyce have a buyer for the house yet?” She asked, switching the subject. Instead of making sure she didn’t sever a finger, she held eye contact while brandishing her serrated knife.
She wasn’t even looking at her cake.
Show off.
I groaned. “Yup, she accepted the o
ffer yesterday.” Looking down at my cake, I hoped she wouldn’t freak out over how uneven the layers were. I hurriedly packed it back on the tray before she critiqued my work.
“I can’t believe she is selling my childhood home. To move to Florida of all places.”
“America’s wang,” Tiffany offered, still eavesdropping. Chrissy and I nodded.
After Chrissy finished her last cake in record time, I took it from her and added it to our collection. Eighteen cakes in total, boxed up and ready to chill overnight before covering them in fondant tomorrow. By this time next week, they would be the centerpieces for several high profile Mont Clare weddings.
“We had so many good times in that house,” she said, shifting her attention to Tiffany. “We even came up with the idea for Ruby’s there. Right in her mom’s kitchen.”
I sighed again. “Yup. I loved that house, too.”
I understood why mom had to move, but that didn’t make it any easier. In the past year and a half, all of our lives had been turned upside down, and with Ruby’s success, I didn’t need her as much. Between Chrissy meeting and falling in love with a TV sex symbol, and our bakery exploding in popularity, everything changed for us. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. But there was a teensy tiny part of me that hated not being in control.
Chrissy calls me uptight, but I like to think I’m just well-prepared.
While I pushed the speed rack toward the walk-in, Kenneth, another new manager, poked his head into our little cake station. “There is a guy up front looking for a manager.”
“Kenneth, you are the manager,” I reminded him.
“Sorry ma’am, I meant owner. I told him I was the manager now, but he said he wanted to talk to one of you.”
“Kenneth, you innocent child-like soul, when someone asks for the owner, just lie and tell them we aren’t here. People who want to talk to the owner are only after two things. Ad sales and complaints… and stop with the ma’ams!” Chrissy yelled.
“Sorry Ms. Chrissy. He was real insistent.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, relieved to get away from talking about my childhood home. It was the place where I wanted to raise Bailey and maybe have Brad Pitt move into once I met him and charmed him into submission.
Before going out front, I took my time washing the sugar from my hands, mentally preparing myself for an irate customer or a sales pitch. Truth be told, I loved them both, but today I was too tired to deal with bullshit.
What I saw when I rounded the corner, stopped me in my tracks. For the first time in five years, Eli, my-ex boyfriend, and deadbeat baby daddy, showed up out of the blue.
What the hell is happening?
“Hey Sarah, long time no see.”
He looked different, but not in a good way. The guy I dated in high school was tall and athletic with the most enchanting blue eyes I had ever seen. Between the dragon tattoo on his back, and his status as the captain of the football team, I thought he was the hottest guy ever.
Five years later and the man before me was balding with a beer belly and a bleach blonde trash monster who smacked her gum too loudly attached at his side. She smiled at me like the guy with her didn’t leave me the day I gave birth, never to return.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Sarah, before you go on,” he said, putting his hands out, trying to diffuse my inevitable eruption. “I just want to say I’m sorry for moving away.”
I stared at them stunned. “Moving away? You abandoned me with a newborn. You said you were going to Taco Bell for a chalupa, and we never saw you again.”
The woman smacking her gum wore frosted pink lipstick that matched her press-on fingernails and nicotine stained teeth perfectly. She looked like she belonged on an episode of Cops for shoplifting in her underpants. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
She smiled and held out her hand. “Hi, my name is Aimee. I’m sorry this big lug hasn’t introduced me yet. I’m his wife.” She glanced around the cafe, taking in the clean retro vibe and long line that ran out the door. “Y’all have a real nice place here.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised if Elvis walked in and ordered a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. As I stood there with my mouth open, my brain desperately tried putting all the pieces of this puzzle together. Eli, showing up again after abandoning us? Never in a million years did this scenario pop into my head.
“Oh, close your mouth Honey, you’ll catch a fly,” she said, cackling at her joke.
Eli hung his head in shame. Like he would rather lightning strike him dead, then stand in front of his baby momma with his new wife. “Sarah, I am sorry for what I did to you and the baby…”
“Bailey,” I corrected.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“He’s not a baby anymore. His name is Bailey, and he starts kindergarten soon.”
Eli and his blushing bride beamed at one another and for a second I wondered if I was having a fever dream. Or worse, that I was dead, and this was hell.
“You hear that, Honey? Our son is almost in kindergarten.” He patted her hand, which was still clutching his arm. She couldn’t have been any bigger than a size zero. I imagined if she wasn’t grasping him for support, she might just blow away.
I tried processing this bizarro world conversation, but couldn’t quite figure out what they were doing here. He said the word ‘our’ son as if he was talking about him and her, not him and me.
“I’m confused,” I said.
“Sweetie, Eli and I just found out we are gonna have a baby. And we thought it only fair that he do right by you and Bailey. We want our baby to grow up with his big brother, so here we are.”
“I want to see him, Sarah. Make up for lost time,” he added.
Suddenly the air felt too thick to breathe. I needed to sit, but every chair in the cafe was occupied. This couldn’t be happening.
“No,” I said, shaking my head violently.
“Sarah, now don’t be hasty,” he said while his eyes darted to the handful of customers watching our exchange. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just say no.”
“You’re right,” I clarified. “Fuck no.”
Aimee’s smile cracked, but just slightly. “Honey, daddies have rights to their babies in the state of Louisiana.”
“Rights?” I laughed. “What about Bailey’s rights? You’re bat shit crazy if you think you can come in here and demand to see my kid after abandoning us.” The words spilled from my lips barely above a whisper.
Showing up at my bakery was unfair, and judging by the smirk on Aimee’s face, they knew it. This was their master plan, ambush me in my place of business, so I couldn’t say no.
“Sugar, you are a busy woman.” She gestured to the line of people again. “Come on now, don’t you tell me you are a mother of the year to that boy. You don’t have time for him. Look at all these people. All this money you’re bringing in probably means he’s just at the sitter’s all day.”
The blood rushed to my face; she struck a nerve.
“Candy…” I said, calling her the first weird name that popped into my head.
“Sweetie, it’s Aimee…”
I took a step toward her and looked up, glaring at her. “I don’t give a flying fuck what your name is. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your piece of shit, child abandoning husband. You aren’t getting your claws on Bailey. I don’t care about your impending crotch goblin.”
Eli’s head was bouncing back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. This was not going the way they had rehearsed on the ride over.
Towering over me by a full foot, Aimee wasn’t rattled. “Buttercup, you don’t wanna have us take you to court, do you?” She said, touching the tip of my nose as if I were a child. “Judges round these parts like to see complete families. Not mommies who leave their kids with sitters all day.”
“I don’t know about that.” I folded my arms and held her gaze. “I’ve heard mothers are
always favored, and your husband will owe a lot of back child support if he pursues this.”
Endless nights tending to my child alone meant I read every mommy blog and legal advice column there was. I had done my homework. Had trailer park Tammi done hers?
She looked around the bakery again, smirking. “Come on, your chubby friend is married to a movie star, and you have a line around the block. I don’t know Honey, seems to me you’re doing just fine for yourself. More than fine, actually.” Her eyes roamed to Kenneth, as he emptied stacks of bills from the vintage register.
Wow, Kenneth, your timing could not be worse…
“Just because I’m doing fine now, doesn’t mean the last five years were a walk in the park.” Turning to Eli, I jabbed my finger in his face. “Bailey isn’t some pawn in a game, he’s a real little boy. He has feelings. If you pursue this, I will fight it.”
The spineless sea monkey who knocked me up stood quietly, staring at the floor.
“You can tell the judge all you want, but when Bailey comes to live with us, you’ll be the one paying child support,” Aimee answered.
I couldn’t look at either of them. “Get out.”
“It’s okay, Doll, we will get your boy back, one way or another,” she said to Eli, leading him toward the door with her pink talons.
Looking over her shoulder one last time, she waved. “And when we do, she’ll pay us.”
