Welcome to the Book Blitz for Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby, the newest book by Julia Kent! Now only 99cents!
For today’s post I got teasers, an excerpt, of course book/author information, and oh yes, be sure to join the giveaway~ twirls
It’s Andrew and Amanda’s turn… in duplicate
We’re having twins.
Which means my shooters are stronger than my brother’s. I win.
Yeah, yeah, everyone can say it’s not a competition, but it is.
And we all know it.
Two babies at once means double the fun, and double the misery for my poor wife, Amanda. While I’m growing a Fortune 500 company, she’s growing two entire human beings out of nothing but orange cheese snacks and ice cream.
Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked during this pregnancy, tracking down orange smoothies for her?
Not to mention being forced to Facetime into a childbirth class on perineal massage, rescuing Chuckles the cat from being shaved bald by my two-year-old niece, and fighting with a wife who has named the twins Lefty and Righty.
By the time we hit the ninth month, my entire world revolves around pleasing — and protecting — her.
Even if it means humiliating myself in the name of love.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute, now.
Is she the one who’s winning?
Andrew and Amanda are BACK in the newest New York Times bestselling Shopping series book as they “beat” Declan and Shannon in the baby competition, but at what cost? As their future awaits them in the form of twins, Amanda and Andrew face ghosts from the past with wit, humor, and most of all — plenty of love.
Buy this book here: Amazon
About the author:
Find her here:
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
My wife is orange.
She is caked with orange dust, on her fingers, in her cuticles, and her lips are the color of a traffic cone. She’s in the kitchen, standing in front of the blender, drinking something–
You guessed it.
“Mmmmm,” she moans as she drinks straight from the blender itself. “Isss izz soooooo goooo.”
“What are you drinking?”
A swallow later and she says, “Cheeto-cini.” When my sister-in-law, Shannon, was pregnant with my niece, Amanda created a special orange smoothie for her out of Cheetos, marshmallow cream, and orange sherbet.
My wife has modified it to remove the sherbet and replace it with coocnut milk, which does nothing to change the fact that it’s vile to the core.
It’s just slightly less gross now.
“It’s the only thing that stays down.”
“And the doctor really says this is okay?” I say, staying far away from the blender, knowing how territorial she is about her food. She’s pregnant and still stuck deep in morning sickness.
For the last few weeks, all she’s eaten is this.
And nothing else.
“It’s full-fat coconut milk. One big leaf of kale.” She makes a gagging sound. “Apple juice. One banana. And Cheetos. I freeze the fruit and it tastes like a milkshake.”
“Our babies are made up of that.” At least she added the kale, banana, and apple juice this time.
“I choke down a prenatal vitamin, too, Andrew.” Her eyes tear up and her chin quivers.
“It’s fine. Good. I’m so glad you can eat something. Really. Not judging you. I know you are doing everything possible for our babies.” I rub the spot between her shoulder blades, hoping I can calm her down before a full-blown meltdown kicks in.
“I am! Everything,” she says before gobbling down more of that candy corn-colored monstrosity. “I’ve lost two pounds. The doctor said the placenta looks fine and the babies are growing within range, but this morning sickness is horrible. If I drink water, I puke! If I drink this–” she points at the blender, “–I don’t.”
“Then by all means, drink that.” I hold back a shudder. My trainer, Vince, would have an unexpected coronary if he saw Cheetos in a Vitamix.
“I–I know I’m not doing this the way another wife would. A better wife. A wife who is stronger and who…” Her lower lip begins to quiver.
Here we go again.
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