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
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KITTY VALENTINE
Dates a Fireman
————————————————————-
JILLIAN DODD
Copyright © 2020 by 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 young adult romance 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. This e-book 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: 978-1-946793-69-0
SPIN THE WHEEL. DATE THE GUY.
Six years ago, debut author Kitty Valentine took the book world by storm when her sweet romance hit #1 on the New York Times Best Sellers list, which was followed by a string of successful releases.
Her latest novel totally bombed, causing her publisher 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 romance-trope 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.
CHAPTER ONE
Fun fact about me, Kitty Valentine, best-selling romance author: I have a surprisingly high tolerance for pain.
Not emotional pain, mind you. Just the opposite. I’m what my best friend, Hayley, would refer to as a drama queen. The first time she called me that, I had to pick myself up off the floor where I’d just thrown myself to tell her how wrong she was.
Physical pain, on the other hand, I can handle. Probably a side effect of being rather clumsy and prone to accidents. If there’s a one-in-a-hundred shot of somebody falling into a mall fountain while texting, I’m the one dripping wet with a broken phone.
Yet there is no pain, either physical or emotional, that can compete with lunch at Grandmother’s. Oh, the cringing. The slow, silent inner death as she questions each and every one of my life choices while managing to embarrass me with tales of her own flawed choices.
The best part? I brought Hayley with me this time to give my grandmother somebody else’s life to dissect, and what is she doing? Is she taking the heat off me the way a decent best friend should? Is she steering the conversation toward positive aspects of my life? Good decisions I’ve made lately?
Is she using the prepared list of talking points that I slaved over for hours in advance of this lunch date?
“I think she should cut her hair. What do you think?” Hayley gestures to me with her knife, which she might as well slide into my back while she’s at it.
Grandmother, whose hair is always gleaming and perfect, studies me with her sharp blue eyes. “Hmm. I do prefer Kathryn with long hair, but I see what you mean.”
It takes all the self-control in my body to keep my hands away from the brown waves tumbling over my shoulders. What the heck is wrong with my hair?
“Not short, short, mind you.” Hayley tilts her head to the side. “But shoulder-length. She looks so cute with shorter hair.”
“I can’t disagree.”
“Do I get a say in this?” I whisper, looking back and forth between them. “Because I can leave the room if you’re gonna keep talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Don’t say gonna.” My grandmother sniffs the air like she smells something foul. “It’s low-class.”
“You should hear some of the things that come out of Hayley’s mouth if you think that’s low-class.”
Hayley gets a big smile from me after that.
“What Hayley says is her business.”
“Why isn’t what I say my business?”
“And she needs to refresh her wardrobe,” Hayley adds before popping an olive into her treacherous mouth. “I mean, how’s she going to impress her next boyfriend, wearing last season’s collections?”
“I’m going to kill you. I hope you know that.” I drag a thumb across my throat for effect, which doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. If anything, she smiles wider than before.
No wonder she was okay with coming to lunch today. She even seemed to look forward to it.
Because she hates me. I mean, that’s literally the only explanation I can come up with. I must have done something to her long ago, and she’s been planning my demise ever since. Gotta give her credit. She’s done a good job of pretending to be my friend all this time.
The very mention of the B-word is basically Grandmother’s trigger. “Speaking of which, have you found another boyfriend for your next writing project?”
No matter how many times I explain it, it doesn’t seem to stick. Either that or she’d rather not remember things correctly. Now that I think about it, yeah, that’s what she’s doing. Much like the way she refuses to call me Kitty, the woman tends to believe what she wants and then basically sticks her fingers in her ears and yells to drown out everything else.
“Whoever he is, he won’t be my boyfriend. He’ll be the man I’m seeing and learning about, so I can write the hero of my next book.”
She waves a hand. I’m surprised she can lift it, considering she’s wearing her eight-carat diamond today. I have to give her points for style—when a new guest comes by, she likes to break out the big guns. “You children of today, with your special relationship words and technicalities. Not so much has changed since my day.”
I know better than to make a snarky comment about that one, no matter how good it would
feel in the moment to ask whether they had color TV back in her day. Besides, I know the answer.
Hayley brought charm to spare today. She leans in like she and Grandmother have a secret. “Don’t pretend you don’t get your share even now. Look at you. Flawless.”
Grandmother laughs softly. “Oh, you should talk.” I swear, I should’ve stayed home. “With your chic little suit. Don’t tell me. Chanel.”
“I know that’s your favorite,” Hayley purrs.
I also know she found it at a thrift store—great score, don’t get me wrong, but come on. It’s like they’re getting married or something.
All right, I’m feeling a little mopey.
“Anyway …” I have to wait for them to quit fawning over each other before continuing, “We haven’t come up with the latest trope yet, but I have to choose one soon. Maggie wants the next book by the holidays, so they can release it in the new year.”
“And her agent wants to negotiate a new contract in the new year too.”
That’s more like it. I knew I brought Hayley for a reason.
“That’s wonderful! So, this new writing style has translated into higher sales then?” Grandmother raises her martini to me with a genuine, warm smile.
“It looks that way. Maggie’s happy, which means the publisher’s happy. Which means I’m happy.”
Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Are you sure about that?”
Darn her. She’s so grandmotherly when she feels like it.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” My smile’s a little tight. I have to consciously loosen it. “No, really, I’m thrilled. I am. Life is good. And I could easily write ten books based on what I’ve seen and done so far.”
When Hayley chokes a little on her salad, I realize what I just said.
“I mean, you know, going places. Not. Like. Doing it. Not sex things.” Yeah, that cleared things up. I’m not blushing harder than ever or anything like that.
Grandmother, meanwhile, doesn’t care one way or another. “If anything, I’d rather see you getting something more than a royalty check out of this. A good lay has a way of smoothing out any rough spots.”
Which is when Hayley starts full-on choking, to the point where I’m pretty sure she’ll need the Heimlich maneuver.
“No, no, I’m fine,” she manages, red-faced and watery-eyed. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Grandmother is all innocence, though I know better than to believe her. “I thought I was speaking the truth. You strike me as two modern, forward-thinking young women.”
Hayley jerks a thumb in my direction after sipping water to clear her throat. “We are. Well, I am. I’m not so sure about this one.”
“Hush. I’m modern and forward-thinking.”
“In theory, if not in practice.” Hayley grins.
“Uh, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that.”
“And there isn’t.” Grandmother laughs indulgently. “In fact, I commend Kathryn’s good sense. It’s one thing to know something is possible. It’s another to know whether it’s a good idea for oneself. Self-awareness is a commendable quality.”
“Thank you.”
And Hayley gets a smug look from me.
Except my grandmother isn’t finished. “On the other hand …”
“I should’ve known,” I mutter.
“There’s something to be said for expanding one’s horizon. Stretching yourself. Seeing what you’re capable of. So many of our so-called limitations are self-imposed. We are all capable of far more than we give ourselves credit for.”
Hayley rests her chin in her palm, watching and listening and soaking up every word. I’m pretty sure she’s decided to be my grandmother when she grows up. Awkward since I made that decision for myself a long time ago. We’ll walk around in our seventies, looking like clones of each other in Chanel and diamonds.
We could do a lot worse. I’m almost, sort of looking forward to it.
“That’s why I’m stretching out of my comfort zone for these projects. I know I was wrong to throw such a hissy fit at first.”
Hayley snorts. “You? Throw a hissy fit? The hell you say.”
“Shut up. Anyway, I’m glad things are working out. I hated it at the time, but look, I’m still alive. It hasn’t killed me.” Yet. Hasn’t killed me yet.
Here’s the thing: I’m a girl who, until roughly eight months ago when my editor ordered me to start dating around or else lose my career, hadn’t dated anyone since college, except for a few one-offs, which went miserably. I’m just no good at casual dating. I always end up liking a guy too much, too soon, and feeling like the world’s biggest moron in the end.
Except for my last dating disaster, which was doomed to fail from the beginning. Granted, I knew there was no future for us when I went into it.
Okay, okay, I knew it but didn’t want it to be true. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn’t want, just a little, to end up married and neck deep in babies alongside their adolescent crush? Who just happened to, at one time, be an international superstar? Talk about living the dream.
But that’s the thing about dreams. They very rarely pan out once it’s time to wake up. My hurt feelings after the Dustin situation didn’t stem from falling in love and having my heart broken, but from knowing he was pretty much telling me what I wanted to hear just to get me into bed—and his name into my book.
Neither of which happened. Too bad.
I don’t think I’m cut out for casual dating. I really don’t think so. Call me a serial monogamist or an optimist or a dork who can’t hang in modern times. Whatever. It’s how I’m built.
But work must be done, which to my agent means dating must be done. Which means I must keep stretching beyond my comfort zone. If I’m not careful, I’m going to owe the dentist a lot of money after gritting my teeth so much.
“Speaking of which …” Hayley reaches for her purse, where I know she has the spinner all ready and waiting.
There’s a reason she keeps it rather than letting me have it. She knows I’ll conveniently lose it.
“Oh, you’re going to choose now?” I’m surprised Grandmother doesn’t clap with excitement. “I get to witness this? How thrilling.”
“Why don’t you give it a spin for good luck?” I suggest. It can’t hurt.
“Me?” Her eyes are perfectly round, one hand to her chest.
You’d think I asked her to perform open-heart surgery.
“Sure, go ahead.” Hayley hands it to her with a look at me. “Now, you can’t blame her if she lands on Santa.”
Again with this. The girl won’t be satisfied until I’m bouncing in Santa’s lap. “I think this book would be released a little late for sexy Santa to be a worthwhile trope. Sorry about that.”
We watch and wait while the list of potential tropes scrolls past on the little screen. Single daddy, bad boy, firefighter, lawyer, police, construction worker, motorcycle club, athlete … it’s dizzying.
“Ooh!” Hayley squeals a little once my current trope is revealed. “A firefighter! Hot damn!”
“Firefighter, huh?” Okay. I can get behind the sexiness.
There’s something painfully masculine and rugged and generally hot about a firefighter. Which, duh, is why they’re such a popular character for romance writers to base their heroes on.
It’s Grandmother’s reaction that really and truly gives me pause. She looks downright thrilled—like the woman is about to lick her chops.
“What are you so excited about?” I laugh. “I’m the one who has to find him and date him and write a book about him.”
“I just so happen to know where you can find an entire roomful of likely firefighters to choose from.”
“Oh, good, because I wasn’t keen on the idea of setting a fire in my apartment and hoping somebody hot responded.”
She shakes her head. “Always with the quips.”
“What do you have in mind?” Hayley asks.
“You girls might not know it, but I’m heavily involved in several of the city’s charitable foundations. Including an endeavor to raise money for local animal shelters. I’ve always had a soft spot for animals, especially at this time of year when it gets so cold.”
“What’s that got to do with firefighters?”
“Patience,” she sighs with a roll of her eyes. “As I was about to say, several of the local ladder and engine companies have agreed to offer their eligible members in a bachelor auction this weekend.” She slaps the tabletop with her palms, triumphant.
“A bachelor auction?” Hayley and I say in unison as we exchange a look, eyebrows raised.
“With a banquet and such, yes.” Grandmother nods. “It’s perfect. You can join me as my guest and choose from any of the men who catch your eye.”
“Will there be a lot of people there?” I mean, this does sound perfect, but there’s one little hitch in the plan, which I don’t think she’s considered yet.
And why would she? She hasn’t had to think about money in a long, long time. Like, her entire life.
And while I know I’m lucky to live the way I do, I’m not swanning around my Park Avenue brownstone, wearing an eight-carat diamond ring. Among other pieces of jewelry.
“Oh, yes, we sold out within a few days of announcing the event. It’ll be held at The St. Regis, in the ballroom. You’ll be a vision.” She sits back, tipping her head from one side to the other. “We’ll have to go shopping.”
“Hang on.” I cast a pleading look to Hayley, but she doesn’t seem to understand what I’m nervous about. “How much money are we talking about? I mean, in the auction. Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“Many times.” Grandmother waves a hand and nearly blinds me with her ring.
“What do bachelors normally go for by the time the bidding’s done?”
Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman Page 1
