Make Me Yours
Page 1
Make Me Yours
Tia Louise
Contents
Make Me Yours
Acknowledgments
Books by Tia Louise
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Make You Mine
Prologue
Chapter 1
When We Kiss
Chapter 1
About the Author
Make Me Yours
By Tia Louise
He’s a billionaire single dad who needs help.
She’s a sassy single gal who needs work.
Live-in nanny? What could go wrong?
Remington Key: I left the Navy, scored a billion in tech, got married, and had a baby. I did everything by the book. Happily ever after, right?
Fast-forward four years, and I’m alone, raising my daughter, caring for my mother-in-law, and trying to keep my stuff together. How did this happen?
I was clearly drunk the night I offered a gorgeous girl in a bar $500 a day to be my live-in nanny. Or maybe it was my dick talking.
So what if I’ve been alone since forever? I’m focused on launching my new business, not bedding the sexy siren who sleeps down the hall.
At least that’s what I keep reminding myself…
Ruby Banks: Remington Key is distant, brooding, and ridiculously sexy. And when he scoops up his adorable four-year-old daughter Lillie and blows raspberries on her tummy while she squeals with delight, my ovaries literally explode.
Bumping into him at our local pub that night slightly drunk and overly frustrated was a total accident. He needed help, and it was the Christian thing to help a man in need. Right?
Only, Remington Key does not make me feel very Christ-like… No matter how committed I am to being a responsible employee.
(A small-town STAND-ALONE CONTEMPORARY Romantic Comedy. No cheating; No cliffhangers.)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Make Me Yours
Copyright © TLM Productions LLC, 2019
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Shanoff Formats
Photography by Sara Eirew Photography
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
I always find myself in this place, thinking about all the incredible people who helped me get to having a beautiful, finished novel, and just wanting to cry…
First, because of all the love and support of my amazing readers and friends. Second, because I never want to forget anybody as I thank you all.
For starters, thanks to my precious family, Mr. TL and my two daughters, for the love, for believing in me, and for PATIENCE. I love you guys!
HUGE THANKS to Dani Sanchez and Lulu Dumonceaux for all the incredible marketing and logistical support. You keep my brain straight when it’s going in a million different directions, and you help me so much.
Even MORE Huge Thanks to Ilona Townsel for always being there, for dropping everything to help, and just for being the absolute best. You’re my rock.
HUGE THANKS to my incredible beta squad… Becca Zsurkán, Ana Perez, Sarah Sentz, Clare Fuentes, and Tina Morgan—you ladies give amazing notes.
To my Mermaid VEEPs, Ilona Townsel, Jacquie Martin, Becca Zsurkán, Ana Perez, Clare Fuentes, Sheryl Parent, Jaime Long, Tammi Hart, Tina Morgan, and Ellie King. You ladies have no idea how much I love you all!
Harloe Rae… What would I do without you? I love you.
To all of my amazing author-buds, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. I know how hard it is, and I’m so so blessed to know you.
Special thanks to Shannon of Shanoff Formats for the gorgeous cover design. I love you. Thanks to Michelle Tan for your helpful tips. Thanks to Becky Barney for being my wonderful editor, and super thanks to Gemma Woolley for your proofreading talents.
To my MERMAIDS and my INCREDIBLE Promo Team, Thank You for giving me a place to relax and be silly.
THANKS to ALL the bloggers who have made an art and a science of book loving. Sharing this book with the reading world would be impossible without you. I appreciate your help so much.
To everyone who picks up this book, reads it, loves it, and tells one person about it, you’ve made my day. I’m so grateful to you all. Without readers, there would be no writers.
So much love,
Stay sexy,
<3 Tia
Books by Tia Louise
BOOKS IN KINDLE UNLIMITED
STAND-ALONE ROMANCES
Stay, coming June 2019
Make Me Yours, 2019
Make You Mine, 2018
When We Kiss, 2018
Save Me, 2018
The Right Stud, 2018*
When We Touch, 2017
The Last Guy, 2017*
(*co-written with Ilsa Madden-Mills)
THE BRIGHT LIGHTS SERIES
Under the Lights (#1), 2018
Under the Stars (#2), 2018
Hit Girl (#3), 2018
PARANORMAL ROMANCES
One Immortal (Derek & Melissa, vampires)
One Insatiable (Stitch & Mercy, shifters)
eBOOKS ON ALL RETAILERS
THE DIRTY PLAYERS SERIES
The Prince & The Player (#1), 2016
A Player for a Princess (#2), 2016
Dirty Dealers (#3), 2017
Dirty Thief (#4), 2017
THE ONE TO HOLD SERIES
One to Hold (#1 - Derek & Melissa)
One to Keep (#2 - Patrick & Elaine)
One to Protect (#3 - Derek & Melissa)
One to Love (#4 - Kenny & Slayde)
One to Leave (#5 - Stuart & Mariska)
One to Save (#6 - Derek & Melissa)
One to Chase (#7 - Marcus & Amy)
One to Take (#8 - Stuart & Mariska)
* * *
Descriptions, teasers, excerpts and more are on my website (link)!
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“You aren’t wealthy until you have something money can’t buy.” –Garth Brooks
To Becca, Sara, and lovers of fairytale princes everywhere.
Prologue
Ruby
Fifth grade
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that little girls know by fifth grade whether they’re bitches or not.
Okay, I just made that up based on the intro to Jane Austen’s
Pride & Prejudice. I don’t really know if it’s a universal truth or not, but in Oakville, our tiny bedroom community of Charleston, it was real clear the day Serena Whitehead emerged as queen bitch of our fifth-grade class.
A lot of families had migrated to Oakville from Charleston for the small-town schools and the perception of safety, so we were meeting a lot of new girls. Still, we’d known Serena since Kindergarten…
“My mother says your dad was voted Most Handsome in high school.” Her voice comes from behind my left shoulder. “Too bad you look nothing like him.”
She’s right.
My father, prominent Charleston neurosurgeon Kenneth Banks, is tall, with light brown hair and flinty blue eyes.
Stepping back, I smooth my finger along the fair brow framing his round eyes, thinking how they look disappointed even in charcoal. “My mom was voted most beautiful in her graduating class.”
“Where was that? Suzy Wong Manicurist Academy?” Serena laughs, and I turn to face her.
Bitches don’t scare me.
“Clemson Magnet. Her degree was in accounting.”
I leave out how she then met my dad and gave it all up to stay home and raise her family, also known as me.
“You are so good at portraits.” My best friend Drew’s voice is a sweet interruption, and the fist in my chest relaxes.
“I’m too literal.” Leaning my shoulder against hers, I speak quietly. “Your technique is good—”
“They just never look like the person I’m drawing.”
Serena isn’t done. “What a pair,” she quips. “The fallen princess and the daughter of a geisha.”
My jaw tightens, and I turn quickly, stepping right into her face. “You’d better watch your mouth, Serena Whitehead.”
“Why, banana brains?” Her eyes flash, but I don’t flinch.
“My family are Bak Mei kung fu masters. Since the age of seven, I’ve perfected the Five Finger Heart Exploding technique.”
Serena’s green eyes narrow slightly. “What the hell is that?”
“Piss me off, and I’ll show you.”
“I’m telling Ms. Hughes you threatened me.”
“I’m telling Ms. Hughes you’re a foul-mouthed bully.”
We glare at each other as the second-hand ticks, one… two… three…
Until our teacher’s voice breaks the stand-off. “Girls, what’s going on here?” Ms. Hughes puts her hand on my shoulder, and Serena skanks off to her side of the classroom.
Drew pipes in. “Just packing up, Ms. Hughes.”
Our teacher gasps, clutching her chest. “Why, Ruby Banks, this portrait of your father is outstanding. It’s an amazing likeness. You have to take it home and show him tonight.”
“Oh, no…” The confidence in my chest deflates. “My dad’s not really into art.”
Or anything I do…
“Nonsense!” She spins off toward her desk. “I’ll send them a note. I’m recommending you for the artistically talented program at Oakville High. You have real potential!”
It’s no use arguing. I’ve tried explaining to teachers before, and they never believe me. Everyone thinks my dad is some cultured philanthropist because he grew up in the city and Charleston General named the children’s surgery wing after him… Maybe even because he married my mom.
The truth is, he’s kind of just an absentee jerk.
“Sure.” I smile and nod.
When I meet Drew’s eyes, her smile is sad. “You should go to the artistically talented program. You really deserve it.”
“We both know it’s not going to happen.”
The bell rings as we finish collecting our books. Serena glares at me from across the room, but I have more important things to worry about.
“Bak Mei kung fu masters? The Five Finger Heart Exploding technique?” Drew whispers, and we both start to laugh.
“I guess somebody never watched Kill Bill.”
“Or The Amazing World of Gumball.”
We do a low five, and I follow her to the door.
“Ruby, wait!” Ms. Hughes hurries to give me a business-sized envelope. “I want you to give this to your parents tonight. Have them sign it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A knot tightens in my throat.
I wish people wouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Unless they need the exercise.
Drew and I walk our regular route home from school. We live in the same neighborhood, but developers have been adding to it so long, it’s more like three neighborhoods connected by long, winding streets.
Her family’s historic mansion is in the oldest part of Oakville Estates. It was one of the first homes built here. My family’s house is on the other, newer end. It’s not a mansion, but it’s still pretty big.
We reach the fork in the sidewalk, and she hesitates, looking in the direction of her house. Since her mom died, all her daddy does is drink, and her brother Danny gets in trouble all the time.
“If your dad hates art so much, why’d you pick him for your portrait?”
“Daddy issues.” I joke, kicking the grass with the toe of my shoe. Neither one of us really wants to go home.
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know. His face was in my head.” I squint up at her. “Why’d you pick Danny?”
She shrugs. “Same reason.”
She opens her large portfolio, and we both study her portrait. It doesn’t look like Danny at all. It looks more like his best friend Gray. Our eyes meet, and I laugh again.
“That’s the face in your head?” Her cheeks flush, and she doesn’t have to answer me. Drew and I know each other better than anybody in this town. “See you tomorrow, Drew-poo.”
“Don’t call me that, banana brains.”
I give her a push, and she pokes me in the ribs. Our pretend-wrestle turns into a brief hug. “Good luck.”
“You, too.” She waves and marches slowly toward her house.
I wonder if a drunk dad is better or worse than an absentee jerk. Either way, I can’t put off the inevitable any longer.
Dad’s stuck at the hospital and won’t make it in time for dinner again. Ma and I sit together eating kimchee and spicy dumplings with chopsticks as she recites the events of her day.
Her neat beige dress stops at her knees, and a thin black belt is around her waist. Her dark hair is smoothed back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, and her shoes are sensible black pumps. A neat strand of pearls is at her neck, and her lips are a pale shade of pink. My mother’s skin is flawless.
She is the very model of a small-town church secretary.
I’m dressed in ripped jeans and a graphic tee, and my hair is styled in a fluffy bob that ends right at my ears. While I do look more like her, thanks to my Anglo dad, my hair has a little wave in it, and my dark eyes are slightly rounder. It’s clear I’m half-Korean, but I appreciate these little perks from the man with whom I otherwise have nothing in common.
We finish eating, and Ma goes to the bar separating the kitchen from the dining area. “What is this?” She picks up the envelope I left behind.
“Ms. Hughes wants you to sign and return it.”
Ma opens the letter and her dark eyes quickly scan the page. “It says you’d leave school early? To draw pictures?” Her brow furrows. “What about your science class? Your math? You should leave school early to take accounting.”
“It’s just a recommendation, Ma. I don’t have to do it.”
“Your father will not like this.”
No shit. I don’t say that part out loud. I don’t want her putting soap on my tongue again.
“What won’t I like?” Dad’s stern voice makes my insides jump.
Ma jumps as well. “Kenneth! Welcome home.” She steps over to peck his cheek. “I saved you a plate. Sit.”
He goes to the wet bar at the window, and ice clinks in a crystal tumbler as he pours his daily scotch. “Ruby?”
My stomach clenches. “Yes, sir?”
“What is you
r mother saying I won’t like?”
Blue eyes fix on me, and I wonder how he can make me feel so cold with just a look.
“We had an art assignment at school. My teacher sent home a note.”
His brow lowers, and my frozen insides splinter in painful shards. “A reprimand?”
“A recommendation.” I speak fast. “She wants me to take this art program. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
He goes to the letter my mother left on the table and scans it even faster than she did. “Art.” His perfectly straight nose curls. “What gets into these teachers? What kind of job would you get with a degree in art?”
Swallowing the pain in my throat, I nod. “I know, right?” My voice sounds too small.
“What’s this?” He reads out loud. “See portrait. What portrait?”
“It’s nothing.” I stand, collecting my plate. The last thing I want is to continue this conversation.
“Ruby Banks, what portrait?”
Depositing my plate in the kitchen, I go to where I left my school things in the mud room. My art folder is in the back of the long cubby behind my raincoat. I take it out and carry it slowly to the dining room where he now sits at the head of the table, holding his scotch.