My Fair Aussie: A Standalone Clean Romance (Millionaire Makeover Romance Book 3)

by Jennifer Griffith

  “Careful. You’ll wake her.”

  “I like her when she’s awake. Jojo laughs when her daddy makes faces at her.” He made one now, even though the baby’s eyes weren’t open. Now he was just making me laugh.

  “Yes, but then you hand her back to me, and I get to try all manner of methods to convince her to sleep again.”

  “You’re a doctor.” A twinkle lit his eye. “It should be no problem.”

  “Doctor of linguistics is not the same as sleep doctor, my darling.”

  “I’m of the opinion you can do anything, my darling.” He pressed a kiss to my head and then my mouth. I never got tired of that.

  He placed an arm ’round my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my temple, and we both leaned back against the trunk of the tree in its dappled shade. I breathed in his scent, and thanked the heavens above for sending me him. It couldn’t be chance that of all the bus stations in all the towns in all the world, he’d walked into mine.

  He toyed with a strand of my hair.

  “Speaking of your doctorate, have I ever told you how much I loved watching you receive your degree, with those long black robes poking out, our baby attending your hooding ceremony right in your belly?”

  “She kicked all through it.” The baby and the graduation had been serendipitously timed together so that my parents could come for both with just one trip—and Polly, too, Jojo’s godmother, although she sort of wished we’d tell Jojo she was the fairy godmother instead. We said no. “My mother claimed she saw a flutter of my graduation robe due to an errant foot.”

  “Will they come for Jojo’s first birthday?”

  “If not before.”

  “Your dad is legend. I talked to him earlier today, and he’s hundred percent on the roll-out the breed nationwide in the States.”

  “So you’re a go for next month?”

  “All set.” Henry exhaled. “I couldn’t have done it without your dad’s cattle association contacts in America.”

  “He had a vested interest in helping you—his daughter’s future was on the line.” And a very wealthy line it was set to become, from what all the business analysts were saying. Henry and my dad were set to turn a multi-million dollar operation into some serious money.

  “Let’s not forget my daughter’s future.” Henry leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Johanna’s forehead. “Did I tell you? I’m going to put a swing, right there in this gum tree for her.” He pointed to a sturdy branch that would be perfect.

  I pictured pushing Jojo on a swing and remembered pushing Sylvie on the swings when she was little. I heard from her father now and then, and I was set to send Sylvie a Christmas gift, paper dolls. I’d never forget how much I loved her, to the point of thinking I might never love any other child so much as I did Sylvie; but now that I had a child of my own, I realized that love didn’t divide, it multiplied.

  Matilda came riding up, both horse and rider breathing heavily. She swung her leg over the saddle and flung herself down next to us, her hands on Gypsy’s reins to steady her.

  “I’ll go rub her down in a second, but I wanted you to see this.” Matilda pulled a phone out of her pocket and opened the screen to a familiar-looking page—GossipMonger.com.

  I balked.

  “Oh, no, Tildie,” Henry said, swiping the phone away. “I thought we’d cured you of your celebrity gossip addiction.” Henry palmed it, acting like he was going to chuck it across the stable yard. “I’m going to have to—”

  “No!” She lunged for it, jostling the baby, and rousing her. I settled Jojo quickly again, though. “I promise I’m not wasting time on it anymore; I only get an alert if certain names pop up in the news.”

  Henry aimed a skeptical eye at her. “Names like what, exactly?”

  “Just look at it, Uncle Henry. Please? It’s someone I think Aunt Eliza knows.”

  He relaxed, since he’d only been teasing anyway, and looked at the phone. I peered over his shoulder.

  Holy cats. He’d already scrolled past the headline, but there was a picture of Monique-Noelle draped all over a famously profligate Hollywood actor.

  “How exactly did you have this name on your alerts, Matilda?” Henry flipped off the phone but kept it at his chest, as if holding it for ransom until she answered.

  “My fault,” I said. Maybe unwisely, I’d told and retold Matilda the story of Henry’s and my courtship as many times as she’d asked to hear it—which was a lot, so she would obviously recognize a fluffed-up name like Monique-Noelle. “Sorry. When telling our love story, I should have changed a few of the names, to keep the guilty off Matilda’s radar. Too late.”

  “Well, it looks like your boss finally got everything she ever wanted.” Henry now knew the full horrors of Mo-No’s treatment of others, as I’d had a chance to mention them over the past year or so. Whenever we saw someone acting imperious, we’d whisper Mo-No to each other.

  “You know what this tells me, Aunt Eliza?” Matilda took her phone back. “Be careful what you want.”

  “Good takeaway, sweetie.” And a smart statement to make if she didn’t want Henry to rat her out to her dad for looking at gossip sites.

  “Well, see ya.” Matilda pocketed her phone and led Gypsy away to recover from their good run. “Bye, Jojo,” she called over her shoulder as she entered the shadow of the open stable door.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Henry said.

  “She’s going to be great,” I said.

  “Did I tell you? Jojo said da the other day.” He reached for her forehead again, but I was too quick. “Seems she likes me best.”

  “She’s not the only one.” I kissed his neck a little, since it was so close to me. “But, bad news. Because of my degree from the University of Melbourne—”

  “Locals call it UniMelb.”

  “Gesundheit.” I had to needle him back. “Because of my studies, I happen to know, there’s a reason mama is the same word for mother in nearly all languages; daddy, too. Those are the first syllables a baby learns to babble, whether they speak English or Italian or Japanese or Icelandic as they grow up.”

  “Or Australian?” he asked archly. He’d indulged my imperious, Mo-No tone for a minute but chided me for it now.

  I lifted my chin, angling my face toward his.

  “Even Australian,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to my fair Aussie’s waiting lips.

  Further Reading

  If you enjoyed this book, here are some of Jennifer’s other titles:

  Millionaire Makeover Romances

  Immersed

  The Lost Art

  My Fair Aussie

  The Legally in Love Collection

  Asked & Answered

  Legally Wedded

  Wills & Trust

  Mergers & Acquisitions

  Assumption of the Risk

  Illegally Wedded (Coming January 2018)

  Attractive Nuisance (Coming back soon)

  Other Books by Jennifer Griffith

  Big in Japan: Accidental Sumo

  Chocolate & Conversation: A Modern Retelling of Jane Austen’s Persuasion

  Author’s Note

  I have always loved the story of My Fair Lady. My mom sang “Loverly” to me when I was a little girl. In junior high, my friend Amy quoted “cup, cup, cup, cup, of, of, of, of” on the bus, making me laugh. She had a great Cockney accent for an Idaho farm girl. So I wondered what it would be like to do a retelling of this story. It was my husband (as usual!) who suggested the fun twist of making it a gender-flipped version, starring an Australian cowboy. Did I go for that in a heartbeat? Uh, hello. I mean, what girl now in her 40s didn’t swoon as a teenager watching Jim Craig bring in the brumbies of the Australian Alps in The Man from Snowy River? Or learn to play “Jessica’s Theme” on the piano. Ah, the 1980s.

  In doing “research” for this book, I found it utterly necessary to binge-watch three entire streaming seasons of The Bachelorette: Australia. I needed to find good Australian slang, stuff that cont
emporary people actually use. (I was surprised there were zero references to shrimps on the barbie.) But I did find “hundred percent,” “esky,” “come a gutser,” “legend,” and a lot more. I hope they weren’t too confusing in this book. If so, maybe you need to follow my example and watch a few episodes of love from Down Under, too. (Note for my clean romance readers: it’s a clean version of that television program, which in America sometimes gets a little… you know.)

  Well, as I did, I ran across a contestant in the 2017 season who looked uncannily like the bus station version of Henry Lyon. So, naturally, I did what all of us secretly do and stalked him on social media. His profile picture looked exactly like Henry Lyon in my mind. My critique group agreed.

  Being late at night, I made a bold move and contacted him to see if he’d allow me to license his photo. He was game. So, voila, this book’s cover is the happy recipient of an actual Aussie bachelor’s face. I let the readers of my newsletter know about this, and they were agog (or possibly aghast at my nerviness.) I got a lot of, “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe you did that,” emails. I couldn’t believe it either. Big thanks to Sam for being willing to play along.

  If you’re wondering about the titles to the chapters, each is a play on a line or a song title from My Fair Lady.

  Now, I have to also say, I don’t recommend doing makeovers to teach someone a lesson. It probably won’t work, and it’s probably not nice. Let’s all be nice.

  Alerts and Bonus Stories and Insider Information

  Would you like to be alerted to insider information and have access to extra stuff from Jennifer Griffith? Sign up for the newsletter by downloading this free, fun short story— The Cheerleader & the Ghost. You can unsubscribe at any time, and your email will never be shared.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank you to my mom for singing “Loverly” and other songs from My Fair Lady to me as a child, and for making sure I learned a lot of other Broadway songs. Another thank you to my dad for making sure I learned to ride a horse, even though we kind of had a mean little pony with a cranky personality instead most of the time as I was growing up. I have to thank both of them for raising me on a farm, teaching me to love the beautiful earth, and for teaching me everything else worth knowing as a young person. I hit the jackpot, being born to them.

  I also appreciate my friend Amy Lutz for helping me love the story of My Fair Lady. My sister-in-law Amy (another Amy!) gave me the idea in the first place, with her oft-used phrase, “talk Australian to me.” It still makes me laugh, after a lot of years. I think it stemmed from a swoon over Hugh Jackman, because why wouldn’t it?

  A big thank you to Samuel Cochrane for sharing his gorgeous mug for the cover of this book. A lot of people have said he looks just like a combination of Brad Pitt and Thor, which is a pretty nice compliment, I’d say. I appreciate his generosity.

  Donna Hatch, C.J. Anaya, Rebecca Jamison, Dulice Currier, Lara Ann, Ashlee John, and Paula Bothwell gave valuable editing advice, as did my awesome husband—as always. He insists he’s my Alpha Reader, but really he’s my Alpha Everything.

  I especially appreciate my readers who continually give me support and encouragement as I try to create fun, light romances. Without you all, I’d feel like I was writing into the void (because I’d still be writing.)

  Lastly, I have to thank my kids. While I was drafting My Fair Aussie, they were so supportive. In fact, I heard their prayers in my behalf. How I got so blessed to have these kids, I’ll never know.

  About the Author

  Jennifer Griffith lives in Arizona with her husband who is a judge and her five stunningly brilliant and hilarious children. She has never been to Australia, but she has watched The Man from Snowy River and Strictly Ballroom a lot more times than she should have. She grew up in Idaho and last time she was there, she realized that all the years she spent pining for a glimpse of Australia, the terrain of the Idaho mountains where she lived is suspiciously similar to those of the Australian Alps. Imagine!

  Jennifer reads and reads and reads and studiously avoids housework in her free time when she’s not writing.

  About Immersed, Book 1 in the Millionaire Makeover Romances:

  Being too pretty could sink her business—and her shot at love.

  Lisette speaks seven languages fluently. With her mad skills, she teaches business travelers new languages rocket-fast. But, when too many students treat her like a personal escort, she’s forced to make a policy: never date a client. To clinch it, she hides her beauty—under bulky orange sweaters and fake warts.

  Enter: Erik. Erik is fascinating, gorgeous, wealthy, and a totally nice guy. Sparks ignite in Lisette, and she aches for him to fall for her. But she’s warty—and he’s a client.

  Worse, if she lets him see the real Lisette, her career could fall apart. But if she doesn’t, she might lose the best guy she’s ever met.

  Read more here.