Make Me Yours: A Stand-Alone Single Dad Romantic Comedy. Read online

  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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  Sign up for my New Release newsletter and get a FREE Tia Louise Story Bundle!

  Sign up now! (link)

  “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 litt
le 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 cr
ystal tumbler as he pours his daily scotch. “Ruby?”

  My stomach clenches. “Yes, sir?”

  “What is your 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?”