Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby
(Shopping for a Billionaire #13)
Publication date: April 24th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
You know what’s even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.
We’re ready. We’ve studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it’s time.
And by we I mean me.
Declan’s just ready for the “have lots of sex” part. More than ready.
But there’s just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.
And by little, I mean stupid.
We’re not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.
We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.
McCormick men don’t just have babies.
They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.
I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire’s baby.
Between conception issues, my mother’s desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.
But it’s nothing — nothing — compared to the actual birth.
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First morning urine is precious cargo. My Kegel muscles kick in and I halt midstream, panicking, my wet thighs making me slip slightly forward on the toilet seat, and–
I drop the test into the toilet.
“DAMN!” I scream. My vaginal wall muscles are clamped down like the Hoover Dam holding back an unexpected early thaw, and I involuntarily shake the urine off my hand, flinging droplets all over the rest of me. I jump up, turn around, and try to retrieve the ruined test.
Just then, a whuff of cold air assaults my bare ass. Declan has apparently opened the bathroom door.
“What’s wrong? I heard you scream. Are you…” His voice trails off as I look at him, hand in the toilet, naked ass on display, single-handedly proving that taking a pregnancy test is, in fact, rocket science after all.
“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he says softly, closing the door before bursting into laughter.
Now I know why they sell pregnancy tests in packages of two.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
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