Plan B by Jana Aston
Release Date: July 2nd
Genre: Contemporary Romance
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The moment I laid eyes on Kyle Kingston I knew he was a mistake. A satisfying, toe curling, hair pulling, best night of my life mistake, but a mistake all the same. I didn’t yet know his name, or who he was, but I knew he was a bad idea.
I take comfort in that, because it means my instincts are still good. Too late, but it’s something. Because, FYI, I’m pregnant
… and did I mention my baby daddy is both heir to a retail empire and impossible to get ahold of?
I do what any girl would. I break into his Grandfather’s retirement gala by telling the prissy gatekeeper Kyle’s my fiancĂ©. It was a halfway decent plan at the time, trust me.
But it blows up in my face, disastrously so. You see, Kyle Kingston is all about representing the family values his family’s retail empire was founded on. At least in public. In private- well I’ll tell you about that later.
He proposes – a marriage of convenience.
Convenient for everyone but me, because while I’m falling in love with my convenient husband, he’s keeping a billion-dollar secret. From me.
A credit card.
With my name on it.
"What is this?" I fan the card in front of him, pinched between my fingers. "Are we doing a Daddy thing now? Like, 'call me Daddy,' instead of baby daddy? Because I'm not into that. And that's really something you should talk about beforehand."
"What?" Kyle looks confused about my outburst, then he looks pissed off. "No, don't call me Daddy. For fuck’s sake, Daisy. It's for expenses. For the baby," he adds, before I can interrupt. "You mentioned shopping the other day and I want to pay for whatever the baby needs. If that's okay with you." He says that part sarcastically, as if I'm being ridiculous.
"Oh." Well, sure, that makes more sense. Did I mention that I'm cranky? "I guess. I don't know. Maybe we could split the expenses?"
"We could." He nods. "But it's hardly an even split. I can't help you gestate. I can't help you breastfeed. I'm kinda behind the eight-ball here in terms of doing my share, so helping financially seems like the least I can do."
"Hmm." He's not totally wrong. He should be in charge of breastfeeding, but biology means I'm responsible for everything so I guess I can use his card to buy a pink astronaut cat blanket for Tubbs. "They do need a lot of stuff," I agree, thinking about that kid on the plane and the gate-checked stroller and the diaper bag and Colechester the stuffed kitten. "Hey, do you know anyone who can implant a tracking device?" I had the worst nightmare last night that I lost the baby’s favorite stuffed thing. There's got to be a way to ensure that never happens, right?
"A microchip only works if you scan it. Anything with GPS tracking would require a cellular receiver and a battery so it's not really ethical. Or possible, even."
"Oh, my God, you weirdo, I wasn't talking about for the baby. I was talking about their teddy bear. Or stuffed dog. Or whatever their favorite stuffed thing is that we can never ever lose."
"Right. That's what I meant too." He tugs on his ear and I don't think that's what he meant at all, but I'm mollified that it's not technologically possible to embed a GPS tracker so I drop it. I've got other things on my mind right now.
With my name on it.
"What is this?" I fan the card in front of him, pinched between my fingers. "Are we doing a Daddy thing now? Like, 'call me Daddy,' instead of baby daddy? Because I'm not into that. And that's really something you should talk about beforehand."
"What?" Kyle looks confused about my outburst, then he looks pissed off. "No, don't call me Daddy. For fuck’s sake, Daisy. It's for expenses. For the baby," he adds, before I can interrupt. "You mentioned shopping the other day and I want to pay for whatever the baby needs. If that's okay with you." He says that part sarcastically, as if I'm being ridiculous.
"Oh." Well, sure, that makes more sense. Did I mention that I'm cranky? "I guess. I don't know. Maybe we could split the expenses?"
"We could." He nods. "But it's hardly an even split. I can't help you gestate. I can't help you breastfeed. I'm kinda behind the eight-ball here in terms of doing my share, so helping financially seems like the least I can do."
"Hmm." He's not totally wrong. He should be in charge of breastfeeding, but biology means I'm responsible for everything so I guess I can use his card to buy a pink astronaut cat blanket for Tubbs. "They do need a lot of stuff," I agree, thinking about that kid on the plane and the gate-checked stroller and the diaper bag and Colechester the stuffed kitten. "Hey, do you know anyone who can implant a tracking device?" I had the worst nightmare last night that I lost the baby’s favorite stuffed thing. There's got to be a way to ensure that never happens, right?
"A microchip only works if you scan it. Anything with GPS tracking would require a cellular receiver and a battery so it's not really ethical. Or possible, even."
"Oh, my God, you weirdo, I wasn't talking about for the baby. I was talking about their teddy bear. Or stuffed dog. Or whatever their favorite stuffed thing is that we can never ever lose."
"Right. That's what I meant too." He tugs on his ear and I don't think that's what he meant at all, but I'm mollified that it's not technologically possible to embed a GPS tracker so I drop it. I've got other things on my mind right now.
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