by Jillian Dodd
Table Of Contents
Title page
Copyright page
About this book
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KITTY VALENTINE
Dates Santa
————————————————————-
JILLIAN DODD
Copyright © 2020 by Jillian Dodd
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal use only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with someone, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you love swoonworthy boys, strong heroines, and epic love stories. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Jillian Dodd, Inc.
Madeira Beach, FL
Jillian Dodd is a registered trademark of Jillian Dodd, Inc.
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
ISBN: 978-1-953071-09-5
Spin the wheel. Date the guy. Write the story. Fall in love?
Six years ago, Kitty Valentine took the book world by storm when her sweet debut romance hit number one on the New York Times Best Sellers list, which was followed by a string of successful releases.
Her latest novel, however, totally bombs, causing her editor to suggest she write much sexier books.
To Kitty, writing smut is the literary equivalent of stripping.
But with no advance coming in and her royalties dipping to an all-time low, Kitty has no choice.
Armed with a hot-guy spinning prize wheel, made by her best friend, listing all the different types of men she will date and then write about, Kitty will be spinning—not stripping—her way back onto the best-sellers list.
And in the process, she just might write her own happily ever after.
CHAPTER ONE
Champagne is always a good idea. Especially when you’re the perfect combination of incredibly happy and just tipsy enough not to be drunk. Matt and I are in the limo Grandmother insisted take us home tonight.
Tonight. I don’t think the smile ever left my face. Grandmother is married, and I’m … well, I’m with Matt. We danced. And it was amazing.
He squeezes my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
“How we first met.”
He chuckles. “You had all that alcohol, and I asked you if you wanted me to remember you in your bed. Dead. But when you asked if you would be naked, I will admit that my mind went places.”
“What kind of places?” I flirt.
“Obviously of you in my bed. All sprawled out. I might have even wished for it.” He laughs out loud. “Of course, then my wish came true. I learned very quickly that I needed to be more specific in my wishes.”
“Oh, are you referring to the night you opened the door, wearing nothing but workout pants? You were slightly out of breath. A little sweaty. I forgot why I was there.”
“I noticed. You were totally checking out my body. Of course, you were shit-faced. I just didn’t know it yet.”
“I asked you what your favorite position was. You said you’d have to show me.”
“And you told me it was for research. Speaking of that …” He pulls me closer and puts his lips on mine.
Which is a wondrous feeling, but I can’t help but be surprised by it. This is Matt. My neighbor, who I lived next door to for a year and only admired from afar. At least he has no idea about that.
“Speaking of what?” I ask coyly in between kisses, wondering if he’s going to bring up his favorite position.
“I read Candy-Coated Love.”
Oh. Shit.
“And I was thinking that the golden retriever in the book sounded a lot like Phoebe.”
“Probably,” I try to say nonchalantly. “I am inspired by everyday events. I’ve always thought that she’s a pretty dog.”
“And what about the guy?” He leans back, gives me a smirk, and speaks in a girlie voice, “A six-foot-plus mountain of lean muscle with a perfect smile, who looks like a fairy-tale prince and has an adorable, playful dog.”
“You memorized the book?”
“Not the book, just that part. And the fact that they live across the hall from each other. Admit it—you’ve been crushing on me this whole time.”
I should deny it. But I’m done fighting with him. “It’s all true.”
“Excellent,” he says. “Because I was thinking about candy-coating myself later.”
“Excuse me?”
“You like chocolate, right? And I was hoping that, tonight, I could talk you into coming to my place.” And just when I think, Oh, that’s so sweet, literally, he cracks a grin. “Maybe we could do it in the missionary position?”
“Ah! That was a low blow! You can’t use my stories against me.”
“Oh, really?” He laughs. “It’s because of the book that I have chocolate. And champagne chilling. Rose petals on the bed. I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast in the morning—just like your hero did in the book.”
I falter for a moment as the story comes back to me.
“I want that again,” I blurt out.
“Wait?! The book wasn’t about me? Shit.”
“Oh no. It totally was about you, but that’s not what I meant. I know the sexy stuff is selling, and I know it was good for me to get out there, but it’s not what I want to write. I like crafting sweet stories where I focus on a couple’s relationship, not their sex life. The kind of book where you can feel their love through the pages.”
“Then, that’s what you should do. Which works out for me because I’d like to date you, Kitty. Just you. And I feel like that would be hard to do if you were dating guys for research.”
“But back to the candy-coated part,” I say, quickly changing the subject.
He looks down the front of my dress and grins. “Does that mean you’ll come over tonight, Valentine?”
“I will. And who knows? With enough champagne, maybe I’ll reenact the first night I slept in your bed.”
“Minus the puking,” he says.
“Deal.”
Sometime very early in the morning, before the sun is up, I do wake up in a similar fashion to that first time—my eyes coming to
rest on a naked shoulder next to me.
To a dog who barks the second I move.
“How are you feeling?” Matt asks with a knowing look.
Only this time, he’s not referring to the fact that I was drunk. He’s referring to the fact that last night was hands down the best night of my life. The best sex of my life.
“Perfect,” I say dreamily. “The chocolate was amazing.”
“Oh, break my heart. Surely, that wasn’t the only thing that was amazing.”
“Hmm,” I tease. “Let me think about it. I did enjoy doing a little striptease for you.”
He pulls me closer to him, allowing me to feel his naked body against mine—and one part in particular seems to be standing at attention.
“I enjoyed that as well.”
I expect him to tease me a little, but instead, he bends down and kisses my forehead. A total boyfriend move.
“I loved everything about last night.” He takes a deep breath and then says, “And I’m pretty sure that I love you, Kitty Valentine.”
If I were writing this scene in a book, my heroine’s breath would catch, and she would shed a tear, saying something perfectly romantic back. But this isn’t a book. It’s my life.
I mean, I do breathe in. I do find tears pooling in my eyes. And I say the only thing I can think of, “On the rooftop.”
“Um, what?”
And I know what he’s thinking. What the hell is she even talking about? And I know what I should say, but it’s just jumbled up because I’m feeling slightly woozy and warm inside. Is this what real love or true love feels like?
“On the rooftop. My rooftop party. I, um … you asked me if I knew what I was going to wish for. I wished for this. For you.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to make breakfast?”
“Oh no. That’s so I’ll keep you.”
“And what do you have to do to keep me?”
I roll my eyes and don’t reply. I don’t need to. I just reach down under the covers and let my hand answer his question.
I feel something wet and cold against my hand, which is hanging off the edge of the mattress. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Phoebe. I reach down, smile at her, and give her head a pat.
I roll over, wondering why she’s out of her kennel, and realize that Matt isn’t in bed with me. For a second, I almost wonder if everything that happened last night was just some amazing dream.
But then he walks in the room. Shirtless, carrying a tray of food.
God, does it get any better than this?
But it does—when he smiles at me.
“I thought the smell of coffee might wake you,” he says.
“Phoebe thought it was time I got up.”
“She’s raring to go. I took her outside real quick when I got up, but I wasn’t going to leave you long enough to take her for our usual walk.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.”
“I know you, Kitty,” he says. “You would have freaked out when I was gone and thought I was trying to get away from you.”
“Well, you have hidden in my apartment before to get away from a few girls.”
“True, but this is now.” He sets the tray on my lap and then gets back into bed with me. “I told her we’d go for a long walk later. Don’t forget, you’re supposed to meet Hayley for brunch this morning.”
“Oh shit. What time is it?”
“Nine. You aren’t meeting until eleven, right?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And we worked up an appetite last night. So, eat.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yes, we did.”
We relax in bed, lazily eating. Drinking our coffees, chatting about nothing but the weather. I’m acting all calm and cool, but I am internally trying to decide how to get out of brunch.
I can’t go to brunch.
Not now. Not when I finally got to sleep with Matt.
Not after he told me he’s pretty sure that he loves me.
Because I don’t ever want to spin that stupid wheel again.
“I’m not feeling great,” I lie. “I think it was the champagne. I’m going to call Hayley and cancel.”
Matt suggestively slides his hand up my inner thigh. “Are you sure it’s not just because you want to stay here in bed with me all day?”
Oh. That’s an even better idea than pretending to be sick.
I grin at him. “That’s exactly what I want. I just need an excuse.”
“Tell her where you are. Right now. That you’re naked. She’ll understand,” he says with a smirk.
I sigh. “I know she would, but I’m not sure I want to tell her just yet.”
“She’s your best friend. You tell her everything.”
“It’s new, Matt. This. Us. I’m just not ready to tell her.” Or admit that it’s really real. I’m afraid if I say it out loud, I might break the spell.
“Do you think she’ll be surprised?”
“Probably not. It’s just that … I’m supposed to spin the wheel.”
“Oh, that,” he says, nodding his head.
“Yes, that,” I reply, waiting on bated breath to hear his reaction. To have him tell me he doesn’t ever want me to spin that thing again.
“Then, you definitely have to go.”
“Wait. What? You’re okay with me dating someone else?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,” he says, patting my butt and shooing me out of his bed. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Work something out?
“Since it’s for your job and all.”
And I’m a little troubled by this. Because if I can date, so can he.
CHAPTER TWO
There’s got to be some sort of award coming my way. Like a Nobel Prize or something. Whatever they give to people who somehow manage to drag themselves out of bed, away from an incredibly sexy man—the man they have been drooling over forever—to have brunch with a friend.
I go over to my apartment and tousle my hair, and I’m totally surprised by how good I look. How happy. I get dressed and am ready in no time because I know that the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get home and back into bed with Matt.
Like, if he wants to hang out with me some more.
Now that I think about it, he didn’t say anything about later.
Oh well. Don’t care. I’m going over there and offering myself up for another night of sexual fun.
As I enter the restaurant, Hayley waves at me from a booth against the wall.
I get a quick look-over and a low whistle. “Wow. You look great.”
She knows. Does she know?
I slide into the booth, settle in, and wonder why she chose this diner instead of her preferred fancy brunch place. Although, based on the aroma, I can probably guess why. It smells amazing.
“This is why we are friends,” I tell her. “You always make me feel good.”
“Or was it Matt?” she asks, cutting straight to the point.
“Um, uh,” I stutter. Come on, Kitty. Tell her. You’re dying to. “What makes you say that?”
“You were dancing pretty close at the wedding,” she says, studying me. “You looked like a couple in love. I hoped that might transition into the bedroom.”
I’m trying to decide what to say when our waiter asks if we are ready to order.
“Coffee?” I ask Hayley.
“Hair of the dog is what the doctor ordered. Turns out, I overindulged a little last night. Thus, our brunch spot for this morning.” She turns to the waiter and holds up two fingers. “Bloody Marys, please.”
“You don’t look hungover,” I say, noting her sparkling eyes. “You just look in love.”
“I’m not actually hungover. Just hungry. Starving actually.” She gives the waiter a toss of her hair and says, “We’ll figure out our order while you grab our drinks.”
He leaves, and we
peruse the menu in silence for a moment.
When she sets her menu down, she says to me, “I am in love. Very in love. Isn’t it so fun that we’re in love at the same time?”
“Have I actually admitted to being in love with Matt?”
“You don’t have to. I already know.”
Our drinks are set in front of us, and let me tell you, they are huge.
“This is like brunch in a drink. Do we even need to order?” I say with a laugh as I take in all the things skewered on a stick.
“It’s supposed to be the biggest Bloody Mary in town. I suppose I could let you read about it, but it’s more fun to tell you. This delightful drink in front of you,” she says, mimicking a salesperson, “has organic vodka, Bloody Mary mix, a jumbo shrimp, a slice of bacon, a beef stick, some peppers and olives, and two cream cheese–filled celery sticks.”
“You want to order?” our waiter asks, causing us to realize he’s still there.
As per usual, Hayley doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll have the lobster grilled cheese and sweet potato fries.”
“And I’ll have the cheeseburger and rosemary truffle hash browns.”
The second he’s gone, Hayley holds her drink up in the air. “A toast,” she says. “To friends, great loves, and of course, books.”
“Books?”
She takes a sip of her drink and a bite of bacon before nodding her head and saying, “Yes, books. Don’t forget, today’s the day. We have to spin. You have a call with Maggie tomorrow still, right?”
“Right,” I say, my stomach sinking. Is Matt really going to be cool with me dating someone else, even in the name of research? The thought distresses me. “You surprise me, Hayley.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you usually get something healthy, like avocado toast or an egg-white-omelet type thing.”
She waves her hand through the air and picks up her drink again, taking a big gulp. “I decided it was a cheat day. Make that, a whole cheat weekend. I think I ate my body weight in stuffed mushrooms and desserts at the wedding last night. I could barely button my jeans this morning.” She arches an eyebrow. “So, I notice you didn’t argue about my using the words great loves in our toast.”
