by Kayt Miller
Be warned, New Yorkers. Be warned.
No, in all seriousness, I think the therapy helped. She appeared to regret her actions, but there’s probably only so much they can do in three months. There’s a lifetime of issues with Gisele.
Things have improved for me as well. Jules got me my old job back while my boss’s admin was on maternity leave. It allowed me to make some money and gave me time to think about my life. It was something Billy asked me one night that had me reevaluating things. He asked, “If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?” My answer? I wanted to write. I’ve always loved reading and excelled in English composition courses in college; it just seemed to be too far-fetched. With Billy’s encouragement, I started writing short stories. When I finished one, I’d read them aloud to him in bed. I have to say, I didn’t realize I was a romantic comedy writer, but it turns out I am. Billy laughs at some of the things I write, it makes me beam with pride. I mean, if I can make the hottest man on earth laugh, then I could probably do the same for others. Oh, and bonus… the sex after I read one of my naughty scenes is out of this world. My words turn him on too. The best of both worlds.
Billy is still with the same firm, but he works primarily from home. He set his office up with an extra desk so we can work in there together. He also bought me a new Mac and printer for my writing endeavor. He’s so supportive; I can’t believe I found him. He’s even researching self-publishing. With his help, there’s no way I won’t be successful. He’s my good luck charm.
As for Mom and Dad? They divorced and sold their house. Dad moved into the city. Not far from our place, actually. Probably not surprisingly, Mom moved to New York too. I think she and Gisele lived together for a short time, because the last time I talked to Dad about her, he said Mom had her own place now. I hope she’s happy.
Okay, that sounds snarky, and I didn’t intend it that way. I love my mom. I want her to be happy––as happy as Dad. I’ve never seen him so happy, honestly. He’s gone on a date or two, he plays on a senior men’s basketball team at the local YMCA, and he hangs out with us almost every Sunday. Billy and Dad seem to have a lot in common. My dad is different than he was before. It’s like he found his mojo or something. Heck, he’s even spent time with Billy’s family. As a matter of fact, he’ll be here for our first annual Christmas Eve dinner. We’ve opted not to do a Christmas Eve breakfast because that would be wrong and a little sad. I’m attempting to make brisket with mashed potatoes and gravy. Billy made scratch dinner rolls, and everyone else is bringing dessert and side dishes. A potluck, if you will.
You know? I wonder if Billy’s family has ever done a potluck.
“Mm.,” Billy kisses my neck. “The brisket smells amazing, babe.”
It does. It really does. I did my research on how to cook one of those suckers. Low and slow is the phrase I read over and over. So, that’s what I’m doing. Plus, I made a special rub for it, so I’m hoping it’s as good as it smells.
“Your dinner rolls look delicious too.”
He picks up one that didn’t raise properly. “I’m not sure what happened to some of them.”
“I bet it still tastes good even though it’s a little deflated.”
Billy takes a big bite of the deformed bread and moans. “You’re right,” he says with his mouth full.
He holds it out for me, and I lean in for a bite. “Mm, good.” I nod. “Good job, babe.”
“So, what else do we need to do?”
I scan the room, spending extra time on the table. It looks perfect with Billy’s grandmother’s China. “Nothing. They’ll all be here in an hour. We can relax until they get here.”
“Or…” He winks. “I could have my way with you over by the Christmas tree.”
“Yeah?” I giggle. “We could fool around over by the Christmas tree. We’ve never done that before.” We’ve done it everywhere else, though. My favorite spot is up on the rooftop deck. I’ll never forget the times we did it out there last summer. Naked Billy on the rooftop deck surrounded by flowers was something to behold.
Taking his hand in mine, I pull him over to the tree. “On the floor?”
“Take off that apron. I’ll think I’m fucking June Cleaver, and that’s messed up.”
“Whoever that is.” I pull off my apron and take my shirt off while I’m at it. I shimmy out of my skirt until all I’ve got on is my white lace bra and undies.
He reaches out and touches the lace that covers my nipple, and I shiver. “Are you going to tease me?” I ask softly. Because, honestly, I love it when he teases.
“No time.” Picking me up, he sits on the chair right next to the tree so I’m in his lap, my legs resting on the arm of the chair. He’s staring at my bra again. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”
“Yes. First thing this morning.” I reach out and run my palm over his shirt. “Hey, why aren’t you naked?”
“Give me a minute.” His face is all kinds of serious.
“Okay.”
I watch him as he reaches for the tree. His hand moves between some branches and comes out holding a small black box.
Oh, shit.
Placing it on my knee, he looks up at me. I swear he’s nervous and a bit scared. “JoJo?”
“Yeah?” I can barely get the words out.
“I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want to start doing that as soon as possible.” He slowly opens the box, revealing a diamond so big, I think I might pass out. “This was my grandmother’s ring; my dad gave it to my mom. She gave it to me to give to you.”
“Oh.” I feel tears sting my eyes. “She did?” That was so nice of her.
“I can buy you a new ring if you want.”
“No.” I shake my head. I love traditional things like this. “I love it. It’s just so big.”
Billy winks at me. “That’s what she said.”
Between tears, I crack up laughing. Slapping him on the chest, I admonish, “You had to say that at this moment?” But I laugh a little more. It was perfect.
“JoJo, marry me. Please?”
“Yes.” I wrap my arms around him. “Of course I’ll marry you. I love you so much, Billy Mathers.”
Billy wraps his arms around me and sighs in my ear. “I was scared you weren’t ready.”
“I’m ready. We’ll need to get married before the baby comes.”
His head jerks back in a look of shock if I’ve never seen before. “You’re pregnant?”
“I am. Not too far along. A little over a month.”
“JoJo.” He wraps me up once again.
When he sniffles, I pull him in tighter. “Merry Christmas, Billy.”
“This is the best Christmas.”
“Way better than last year.”
“No contest,” he whispers. “Except I met you last Christmas, so let’s call it a draw.”
Christmas morning, I wake up wrapped around Billy with one of his hands on my ass. He seems to like having his hand there and I definitely don’t mind. His body is so warm, I’m attracted to it like a magnet to metal. I feel his hand rub up and down my back. He’s awake. “Merry Christmas, Billy.”
“Merry Christmas, fiancée.”
Oh, that’s right. I look down at my left hand and just stare. The ring is stunning with a square cut diamond in the center and two more, smaller, rectangular diamonds on either side. It doesn’t need anything else. The ginormous diamond in the center is the showstopper, the star.
Apparently, it was no surprise he was going to propose. The first thing Rebecca and Faye did when they arrived was look at my hand. “You said yes?” asked Rebecca expectantly.
“Of course.” I wanted to roll my eyes at her question, but that would have been rude. I mean why would she think I’d turn down the hottest man in Chicago? Okay, let me clarify. Yes, he’s hot, but that’s not why I’m marrying him. I’m marrying him because he’s the best man I’ve ever known. Hands down. He checks all of the boxes. His level-ten hotne
ss is merely a bonus.
After everyone congratulated us, we sat down to enjoy the food we’d all prepared.
“Our first official dinner party went well,” I say, sitting up in bed.
“It did. I think they all had a good time.”
Our Christmas Eve potluck was everything we wanted it to be. Billy’s entire family, including baby Clementine, Faye and Mark’s little one, was in attendance. I loved being a part of her first Christmas. My brisket was a hit, as were Billy’s dinner rolls. His mom couldn’t believe I got him to cook, but I assured her, he volunteered.
“You bring out the best in him, Jo,” she’d said.
Billy rolls to his side to face me then places his palm on my stomach. Leaning in, he whispers, “Merry Christmas, baby Mathers.”
We decided not to announce the pregnancy last night. I wanted to wait until after my first doctor’s appointment to make sure everything is okay. Billy agreed. Besides, it’s nice to keep it to ourselves for a bit. It’s our secret for now.
Placing my hand on top of his, I smile at him. “You’re going to be the best daddy.”
“I know.” He chuckles. “And you’ll be an amazing mother.”
“I know.” One thing I know for sure, if we have more than one, I won’t love one child more than another one. I’ll love them equally.
“Shall we go see what Santa brought us?”
We exchanged gifts with Dad and Billy’s family last night. Well, it was mostly all about Clementine. She had quite the haul by the time she left. I did get a new Apple watch from my dad, and from Billy’s family, I got two gift cards. One to that spa I went to last year and another one from Amazon. They also bought me emerald earrings that match the necklace Billy gave me. Billy got several high-tech gadgets that he’ll have to explain to me someday. My dad gave him an Apple watch. He loved everything. Now it’s our turn to exchange gifts.
“You get the coffee going, and I’ll wait for you by the tree.”
“Babe, you’ll have to start drinking decaf now,” says Billy hesitantly.
“I know.” I sound like Eeyore when I say that. “I bought some decaf pods. I’ll have one of those.” I guess.
Joining me at the Christmas tree, Billy hands my cup of fake coffee and sits down beside me. “Which do you want to open first?” I ask him. I bought him some basic things like socks, underwear, a sweater, a pair of jeans, and a new wallet. But my big gift is a Blackhawks hockey jersey and two tickets to a Blackhawks game after the first of the year. My man loves hockey, and the Blackhawks are his team. I’m saving that one for last.
“I want you to go first,” he says, reaching for a package wrapped in colorful paper.
“If you insist.” I giggle. The box is large, like a coat box. Carefully tearing the paper at each end, I flip the box over and open the paper up from the back. With the box right side up again, I begin to pull off the lid. I peek at Billy, and I swear the man is holding his breath. What has he done now? I get the lid off and see tissue paper folded over onto itself. I take one side and pull it back and stop. I see something familiar beneath the paper. I don’t speak. I can’t. Gingerly, I pull back the other side of the paper and stare down. At my quilt.
“Billy.”
“They weren’t able to put the entire thing back together, so it’s much smaller than it was originally, but it’s large enough for your lap, or if you wanted to hang it, we can do that.” He’s talking a mile a minute. “They were able to find most of the words she’d stitched and did what they could to place those all over.”
Pushing myself to standing, I set the box on the coffee table. Reaching in, I take the quilt by the edges and pull it out of the box. He’s right, it’s significantly smaller than it was. But it looks almost exactly like it had before Gisele….
I could use it for my lap or… “This could be the baby’s quilt.” It’s just the right size. “I could design the room around this.”
Did I mention I’m crying? Well, I am. Like a fool. My face is a wet mess, and there’s snot, but I won’t get into that.
“Billy, I….” I grasp the quilt with both hands and hug it to my body. “Every day I wake up I can’t believe you’re next to me. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met, and you get me. You get me more than anyone ever has. But, doing this”—I hold up the quilt—“is, hands down, the most precious thing anyone has ever done for me.” I place my hand over my stomach. “Besides this.” I step closer into his waiting arms. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for putting this back together for me. But I’ll try, Billy. I’ll work my whole life trying to make you as happy as you make me.”
“You don’t need to work to make me happy, JoJo. You do it by being next to me when I wake up every day. I just wanted you to have your quilt back. I’m only sorry they weren’t able to put it back the way it was.”
“It’s better now.” I smile up at him. “Because you had a hand in making it.”
“JoJo.” His arms pull me in closer. “How did we get so lucky?”
“I don’t know.” I often wonder about our chance meeting. “Fate. Fate brought us together.”
“Sure, fate played a part.” He nods. “But I prefer to give the credit to Santa.”
“Santa?” He doesn’t believe in Santa, does he?
“Sure.” He chuckles. “That night, I didn’t want to hang out in my room alone, so I walked down to the lobby and the hotel clerk was dressed up as Santa. I asked him if he knew a good place to get a beer and he said, ‘Ho, ho, ho. Sure, down the street. Dingus’ Bar and Grill’.”
I hadn’t heard that story before now. It makes me laugh. “So, Santa, huh?”
“Yep. It’s all thanks to Santa.”
I guess it is.
So, thank you, Santa. For everything.
Books by Kayt Miller
The Palmer Sisters
Lainie
Agatha
Sadie
Cortland
Keely
Violet
Molly
Standalones
The Art of the Game
The Virginia Chronicles
One of a Kind
The Portrait Painter
Game Changer
Bedhead
Coming Soon: Farm Boy
Coming Soon: Redhead
The Flynns
Out of the Blue
Mick’sology
Vested Interest
The Importance of Being Ernie with Bonus Book The Importance of Being Kennedy’s
Quirky Girl
For a complete list of Kayt’s books, visit:
Kayt’s Website: kaytmiller.com
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Virginia and Kim from Hot Tree Editing for editing this book from start to finish.
And an extra special thank you to Becky at Hot Tree Promotions for your advice, expertise, and her positivity.
And to my beta readers. Your feedback is essential to this process. Thank you!
About the Author
How did it all start? Well, I love reading and one day I was searching for a book. A book about a certain type of woman and a specific kind of man and I couldn't find it so, I wrote it. I called it Game Changer and it couldn't have been a more appropriate title. It changed my life in many ways. While my real job is teaching young people, my fun job is conjuring up characters and situations to write about.
My goal, as a writer, is to write stories that relate to all of us, to make readers laugh and maybe cry sometimes. I hope my readers can escape into a fantasy, one that's actually possible. Sure, some of the stories could be dubbed "Insta-love" stories but that's okay. I fell in love with my husband pretty damn fast and with my daughter the second I saw her. So, it's a thing, I swear.
Please Follow Me on these social media sites. Following on BookBub to learn about special book deals.
I love hearing from you!
Thank you!
Thank you so much for reading JoJo and Billy’s stor
y! When I start a story, it begins with an outline, notes, and lots of crazy thoughts running through my head. When I actually start writing, the characters take over, leading me through the story like they’re holding my hand––guiding me. The process is exciting and cathartic. With that said, I hope you enjoy the story.
If you did, please go to my website, www.kaytmiller.com, and join my newsletter so you can be the first to know what’s coming up next. And…
Please, leave a review!
Sneak Peek: Bedhead
Chapter 1
This isn’t happening. It’s just a dream.
At least that’s what’s going through my head until the I hear, “Bloody hell, he’s got a bird?”
“Oy, mate, I think we woke ’er.” That comment comes from the second person in my little dream fantasy. He stepped up behind the first one, the hot one.
“What gave it away, genius?” says dream man numéro uno.
“Well, I’ll tell ye… she’s got bedhead and her spectacles are askew. But that’s a nice pair of baps.”
Spectacles? Baps? I laugh aloud, and it sounds rather hoarse and dry. So I shut my mouth and think about “askew.” That’s such a funny word. If you say it three times fast, it sounds like you’re sneezing. Askew. Askew. Askew. I laugh again as I adjust my glasses so they’re no longer askew on my face. I’d take them off but I need them to see since I took my contacts out before climbing into bed.
“You all right, love?”
I blink at the screen of my laptop and attempt to take in the sight before me. Without speaking a word, I stare at the two men who have called me using the FaceChat application. Two men who are shirtless and beyond gorgeous from what I can tell only seeing the top third of them. Maybe they’re naked. Besides that, they’re English, Brits, of the UK variety.
