After Janey, named after Jane Eyre, was born, they’d outgrown the bungalow and had moved to a larger home in the same neighborhood. Now, all three girls had their own room—which they destroyed daily…or hourly. It was a crapshoot.
He followed Georgie out of their room, and Mr. Tuesday met them in the hall. With a touch of gray around his nose, he’d become the keeper of the girls, completely devoted to their happiness.
But something was different.
“Is Mr. Tuesday wearing lipstick?” Georgie asked.
“It’s marker makeup, Mommy,” Lizzy called with her head peeking out of Mimi’s room.
He shared a look with his wife, and they bolted down the hall, then skidded to a stop.
“Whatever we find in there, there’s got to be some substance that can clean it or paint over it,” he said, more to himself than to his wife.
Georgie sighed. “Okay. We tackle this on three.”
“One,” he began.
“Two,” she said with a chuckle.
“Three!”
They entered the bedroom, prepared for complete Sharpie devastation, only to find the cream-colored walls marker-free.
“Hi, Daddy! I’m a pretty, pretty princess, and so is Mimi,” Janey, his flirt, said, marker in hand and flashing a fire engine red smile with one of Georgie’s old pageant crowns sitting cockeyed on her head.
“Okay, we can wash that off, I think,” Georgie said, kneeling to get a better look at the four-year-old’s face.
His gaze went to the crib where, at thirteen months, Hermione or Mimi, who’d gotten the nickname because Janey couldn’t quite pronounce the vowel-laden moniker, stood in her crib with her back to them and Faby in her arms.
Good old Faby was still with them and had turned out to be their ticket to winning the Battle of the Births. The Hail Mary he’d been hoping for actually happened. It turned out that they were the only couple that kept their infant simulation doll with them night and day. Thanks to Faby’s high-tech tracking abilities, which had since been turned off, they’d learned that the other participants only took the poor fake baby out of its bag for the challenges. And boom! Their attentive care of that sweet hunk of plastic had put them over the top and made them the winners.
He took a step forward and focused on the doll.
“Mimi, is Faby wearing lipstick?” he asked, and then it happened.
Mimi, the beefcake baby after his own heart with energy for days, did a one-eighty jump—an advanced skill she’d picked up in the baby NFL.
Yep, that’s right! The baby NFL.
Georgie might have nixed the toddler trombone lessons, but she’d caved on the NFL classes, which weren’t much more than music and movement activities. Still, he already saw his Hermione rocking those ninja courses. She gravitated toward the tractor tire in his gym and could fart like a grown man.
A tomboy in the making until…
“Holy, circus act! Janey, what did you do to Mimi’s face?”
Looking like a tiny drunk clown, Mimi stomped around her crib, dragging poor Faby like a caveman.
“She’s a pretty, pretty princess for the pictures, too!” his daughter replied as pleased as punch.
“Pictures?” he repeated.
Georgie gasped. “Everyone is coming early this morning for that CityBeat photo shoot. You know, the one with everyone who’s been with us from the beginning. I told the girls about it last night!”
That’s the other thing. Besides bringing their own trifecta into the world, they’d managed to become a worldwide brand, endorsing items from toys to gym equipment to books. They blogged for CityBeat, CityBeat Rattle, and were frequent guest bloggers on the Belgian Waffle Princess’s page.
Today, their closest friends and family were scheduled to come over for a group photo shoot. Hector and Bobby had the idea of doing an origin piece on them. And, of course, because that was their life, it just happened to be the day when two of his three daughters looked as if they were ready to run off with the circus.
Not to mention, with the outfit he was sporting, he looked ready to join an X-rated rodeo.
He shook his head and stared at the ceiling.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and then the door opened.
“Knock, knock! It’s Grandma Lorraine and Grandpa River, and we’ve got Uncle Gene and Aunt Marjory with us.”
Georgie glanced at the clock. “My mom and Wandering River are here with the Gilberts, and they’re early!”
Yep, Howard had kept the moniker and the spiritual yogi vibe, which didn’t bother Lorraine all that much. In fact, she’d even dropped a few pegs on the mega socialite meter. So, all that great sex she’d mentioned—not that he ever wanted to imagine his in-laws doing the dirty—must have paid off.
“Girls, Uncle Hector, Uncle Bobby, and Uncle Barry are here, too, and we have presents.”
“Who all is coming?” he asked his wife, then licked his finger and rubbed it on Mimi’s face, trying to remove the marker.
“Daddy, that’s gross!” Lizzy said, completely aghast.
“You’re right! Why did I do that?” he answered, staring at his finger covered in spit and red marker.
“It must be a parenting instinct,” Georgie said, kneeling next to Janey and staring down at her spit-covered red fingertip.
“Son? Georgie?” called his dad, which meant Maureen, Mia, and Mya had arrived.
The doorbell rang, and one of the bajillion people who’d let themselves into their home answered it.
“Talya! Simon! Look at you, two! We were thrilled to get the invitation to your wedding! Come in!” Maureen exclaimed.
Yep, the epic duo was still epically in love.
Jordan held his wife’s gaze. “How many people are in the house?”
Georgie stared at her fingers, then started to answer when Becca called up to them.
“Hey, blogosphere superstar family! Come say, hello. The party is starting without you.”
“And I saw a few spiders in your yard, so we should talk about spraying,” Brice added.
“I think Becca and Brice make fourteen?” Georgie said, giving up on her fingers when the doorbell rang again, followed by footsteps charging up the stairs.
Irene and Will’s son, Nathaniel, peeked in the room, saw the girls, then ran away screaming.
Jordan clapped his hands. “Getting the old band together. Good times!”
Georgie shook her head. “Just look at us.”
His gaze slid from his oldest daughter to his beautiful marked-up babies to his best friend, his business partner, and the love of his life.
“Is this where you thought you’d be when the first pink lines appeared?” Georgie teased, her blue-green eyes twinkling.
He plucked Mimi from her crib and sat down on the floor next to his wife. Mr. Tuesday nuzzled in next to him, and he scratched the old boy’s head as Lizzy and Janey joined them. Together, they listened to the chatter and laughter of the people they loved the most float up from downstairs.
He took Georgie’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Georgiana Jensen-Marks, my messy bun girl, not in a million years could I have imagined a life as perfect as this.”
“It’s eight ten, Marks family! The photographer will be here in five minutes!” Lorraine called from the bottom of the stairs.
He held Georgie’s gaze and knew they were thinking the same thing.
“It appears this family is about to own the eights yet again,” she said, flashing him the same smile he’d fallen in love with back when he was an asshat of a ten, and she was his perfect eight.
Thank you for reading Own the Eights Maybe Baby! Ready for more romance?
If you’re up for another romantic comedy, check out the 3-book Bergen Brothers Series or the standalone summer romance, The Kiss Keeper.
Want to add a little angst to the mix? Binge the 5-book Langley Park Series.
The Inside Scoop
When I was finishing up writing the Bergen Brothers Series, I went for a l
ong run. The song “The Winner Is” from the movie Little Miss Sunshine came on. It’s a jaunty, charming little tune, and instantly, two characters popped into my head: a gal who shunned all things perfect and a guy whose life revolved around the pursuit of perfection
Now, throw in a contest that pits these two against each other while also forcing them to work together—and boom! There’s going to be some conflict—and some sexytimes.
It’s a romance novel, for Pete’s sake. Of course, there’s going to be some heat!
I mentioned this couple to my cover designer, Marisa-rose Wesley, owner of Cover Me Darling. She came back to me with the first cover. It was absolutely perfect. It embodied the sexy whimsy I was aiming for, and the series was born.
In Own the Eights Maybe Baby, I was able to pull from my experiences with my two pregnancies and the experiences and stories my friends shared.
When I went into labor with my youngest son, the doctor on-call from the practice just happened to be the one doctor I’d never met.
The man had a beard, so he came in looking more like an astronaut than an obstetrician with this crazy head covering. And, by the time he arrived, I’d realized that the epidural didn’t work. My first baby was a nine-pounds giant, that, thankfully, I was able to deliver with an epidural. My youngest was estimated to be even bigger—and I wasn’t about to be a hero with the second.
Well, an epidural that didn’t work plus an astronaut sauntering in to deliver my baby threw me over the edge.
I yelled at everyone in the room and told them there was no way in hell that I was delivering this baby without pain medication.
My husband will tell you that I used more colorful language.
Here’s the thing, when a baby is coming, the baby is coming. My son was ready to meet the world, and that’s what happened less than ten minutes later.
In the Own the Eights Series, I pulled from these life events then added a rom-com twist.
I’m going to miss these two.
I hope you enjoyed Georgie and Jordan’s journey.
Also by Krista Sandor
Sign up for Krista’s newsletter to get all the up-to-date Krista Sandor Romance news!
The Kiss Keeper
A sexy summer romance
The Bergen Brothers Series
A steamy billionaire brothers romantic comedy series
Book One: Man Fast
Book Two: Man Feast
Book Three: Man Find
Bergen Brothers: The Complete Series+Bonus Short Story
The Langley Park Series
A suspenseful, sexy second-chance at love series
Book One: The Road Home
Book Two: The Sound of Home
Book Three: The Beginning of Home
Book Four: The Measure of Home
Book Five: The Story of Home
Own the Eights Series
A delightfully sexy enemies to lovers series
Book One: Own the Eights
Book Two: Own the Eights Gets Married
Book Three: Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Learn more at
www.KristaSandor.com
Acknowledgments
Writing the last book in a series always makes me think back to the beginning. My editing masterminds Tera and Marla have been with me since the Langley Park Series. I’m beyond grateful to have these talented women in my life.
The romance community has become my home. I couldn’t imagine a day that didn’t include interacting with readers, authors, and bloggers. The support in this group is awe-inspiring.
And to my husband. David, you have always been in my corner. No matter how crazy the idea, you were right there cheering me on.
About the Author
If there’s one thing USA Today Bestselling Author Krista Sandor knows for sure, it’s that romance saved her.
After she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 2015, her world turned upside down. During those difficult first days, her dear friend sent her a romance novel. That kind gesture provided the escape she needed and ignited her love of the genre.
Inspired by the strong heroines and happily ever afters, Krista decided to write her own romance novels.
Today, she’s an MS warrior and living life to the fullest. When she’s not writing, you can find her running 5Ks with her husband or chasing after her growing boys in Denver, Colorado.
Never miss a release, contest, or author event. Visit Krista’s website and sign up to receive her exclusive newsletter.
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