Jay's Lucky Baby - A Secret Baby Romance
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Jay’s Lucky Baby
Layla Valentine
Contents
Layla Valentine
Jay’s Lucky Baby
Copyright
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Layla Valentine
Take Me
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks
Fake It For Me
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Layla Valentine
Buy Me, Bad Boy
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks
Boss Me, Bind Me
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Layla Valentine
Steal The CEO’s Daughter
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Jay’s Lucky Baby
Layla Valentine
Copyright 2017 by Layla Valentine
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilizati
on of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author. All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Subscribe to my new releases newsletter and get a FREE copy of my super-steamy book, Dare
LIKE me on Facebook for news, giveaways and more!
Chapter One
Lauren
I tighten my hold on the railing and press myself against the hard metal. Hong Kong’s skyscrapers glint under the sun, seeming as if they were made out of fire themselves. A warm breeze hits my face and I close my eyes. With the cruise ship gaining speed under my feet, I’m flying.
“Enjoying yourself?” an unfamiliar voice asks.
I start and turn to see a middle-aged woman wearing a baseball cap and holding some kind of fruity cocktail. I feel my cheeks redden. Was my enjoyment of the moment that obvious?
“Sure.” I grin sheepishly.
She smiles knowingly. “Get it, girl. Live it up, while you can. One day you’ll be my age, wondering where all the good times went.” She gives me a wink and ceremoniously sips her drink.
I try not to laugh. “You’re American.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but…did you know that before you talked to me? How did you know I would speak English?”
With my black hair and pale skin, people have been coming up to me and speaking in Cantonese all week long.
“I didn’t, hon. I just hoped you would.”
I glance back at the shrinking city. With the sun getting lower in the sky, the blinding light seems to be getting even brighter. I blink and turn away from the railing.
“I’m Lauren.”
“Donna. From Florida. Nice to meet you.” She extends a tanned hand and I shake it.
“You’re not here all by yourself, are you?” Donna asks. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
I suppress a laugh. “I’m here with my parents.”
“No boyfriend?”
“No boyfriend,” I confirm.
“But you’re so pretty.”
“Thanks,” I say uncertainly.
“You have a northern accent. Let me guess where you’re from…New York?”
“Right on the first try,” I admit with a grin.
“Are you here looking for a boyfriend? Because, you know, they call Macau the Vegas of Asia. You could get yourself a rich boyfriend there.”
“My parents would love that,” I reply sarcastically.
Donna chuckles and swats at my arm.
“Lauren!”
I turn at the sound of my mother’s voice. Still yards away, she’s striding down the deck with her scarf billowing around her neck and her hips swaying. She could have been a supermodel, but instead, she went to school and became an accountant. Still, regardless of her job, she has gorgeous skin. We look more like sisters than we do mother and daughter.
Mom places her hand on my shoulder. “Who’s your new friend?”
“Donna Tuttle. Nice to meet you.”
They lightly shake hands and I can see Mom studying Donna, trying to figure out whether she’s appropriate company for me or not.
I suck in my lower lip and hold back a sigh. I’ve been out of school for only two weeks, and already, I feel like I’m ten years old again. My parents are always there, waiting to pass judgment, waiting to make decisions for me. Waiting to decide my destiny.
Mom turns back to me. “It’s almost dinner time.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Donna looks confused. “Oh, goodness. I thought they weren’t serving for another hour.”
Mom coolly smiles. “We like to freshen up beforehand.”
She may not have ended up walking runways, but Mom always treats every event like we keep company with royalty. To her, this isn’t a little cruise between Hong Kong and Macau. It’s the Titanic, and we’re about to have dinner at the captain’s table. Retiring to our rooms and tying on our best pearls and diamonds pre-caviar is of utmost importance.
I say goodbye to Donna, telling her I hope to see her again, and follow my mother to our cabins. It’s a short cruise—just overnight—but my parents managed to book us two separate cabins. I get dressed in the flowered cocktail dress and nude heels that I know Mom and Dad want me to wear, and freshen up my makeup.
When I come out of my room, both my parents are in the hall, the perfect picture of a happy, middle-aged couple. They both look me up and down and give nods of approval.
Mom beams in my direction. “I knew that dress would suit you perfectly.”
I smooth down the pleats of the brightly colored dress and give her a smile. She bought it for me before I got home from college, and while I don’t know how much it cost, I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. I don’t follow fashion at all, but even I would be a doofus to not know the designer whose name is sewn into the collar.
We make our way to the dining room, where dozens of white tablecloth-clad, circular tables are placed around the room. A string quartet plays on a small stage, and waiters in bowties scurry around with bottles of wine. I settle into my seat and lay my napkin across my lap. The number of utensils laid out next to my plate hints at a five-course dinner.
I stay silent while my parents peruse the wine list and discuss the pros and cons of vintage bottles. I left my phone in my cabin, and I desperately wish I hadn’t. It’s only been a little over a week since I’ve seen my best friend, Willow, but I already miss her desperately. Just a quick ‘hey’ from her would be well appreciated.
“We’ll have the Malbec,” Dad tells the waiter, who gives a nod and takes the wine menu from him.
The bottle order and the soup on its way, my parents turn their attention to me.
“So,” Dad begins, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “How have you liked your graduation trip?”
I don’t skip a beat in replying. “It’s been amazing.”
I’m not lying. It really has. When my parents told me they wanted to take me on a weeklong trip to celebrate my graduation from college, I already had a list of destinations in mind—Hawaii, Italy, Costa Rica.
Hong Kong had never crossed my mind. It was the land of my ancestors, the place my mom’s parents had been born. Though they’d left China when they were in their twenties, immigrating to America and having my mom in New Jersey, I’d never once thought of visiting where they came from.
Just a week in the city had turned my world upside down. My parents had taken me on trips before, but never to somewhere so exotic. The sounds, the people, the food…even the colors, seemed different. Walking through Hong Kong’s streets, I felt alive in a way I never did in New York.
The last seven mornings, when I opened my eyes, I actually saw what was in front of me. I wasn’t consumed by thoughts of school, work, relationships, or anything else. I was living in the moment.
“I wish Pop-Pop and Ma could have come,” I sigh.
Mom purses her lips in that way that says she’s having an emotional moment, but doesn’t want to show it. “The flight would have been too much for your grandfather.”
“I know,” I agree. “I can’t wait to show him the sketches I drew, though.”
Dad gruffly grunts. “Or you can just show him pictures.”
The heat of oncoming anger flows through me. There’s an aggressive tone to his voice, and I think I know where the conversation is headed. Taking a moment to myself, I take a deep breath before responding.
“Pop-Pop likes my drawings.”
“He’s just indulging you,” Dad says dismissively as he busily rearranges the silverware on the table. He’s not looking at me, instead seeming overly-involved in getting his soup spoon exactly where it needs to be.
/>
I don’t know how to respond to that comment. My face is practically burning now, and my vision swims with tears as the waiter arrives and puts a bowl of some kind of creamed soup in front of me.
My drawings are good. I know they are. And I’m not just being cocky. I’ve been sketching since the moment I could hold a pencil. My parents used to encourage it, too. When I was a kid—and even in high school—they always bragged to their friends about what a good artist their daughter was.
But then, once I started college in Connecticut, things changed. It all had to do with my post-college plans. When art was something that I did for fun, everything was hunky dory—but once I started talking about making a career out of it, the shit hit the fan.
“You have a business degree,” Dad sternly reminds me. “What would be the use in letting that go to waste?”
I force myself not to laugh out loud over the absurdity of the question.
“It’s a great degree to have,” I agree. “And it’s going to be perfect for starting my own illustration business.”
My parents exchange a quick look.
Dad works his jaw. “You’ve enjoyed this trip, right?”
“Yes,” I dumbly say, though I’m pretty sure I’ve already said as much.
“How do you plan on continuing to take these kinds of vacations? This is a graduation present, Lauren. It’s something fun for you to experience before you get serious again and go to grad school.”
“Dad, I don’t need to go to grad school—”
He barrels on with his speech. “You can’t make a living drawing pictures for kid’s books. I know that sounds like a great idea right now, especially with your friend Willow living out her ‘creative’ fantasy, but just wait and see what happens. Five years from now, she’s going to be a nobody, living in a shack in Queens. Do you want to end up like that?”
I’m trying really hard to keep my composure. I am. But my dad just managed to insult not only me, but my best friend as well.
“Willow is a talented actress,” I say slowly. “And her parents support her.”
Mom clucks.
“She’s spoiled,” Dad retorts. “That’s what she is.”
I spread my hands wide in disbelief. “Why are we talking about this?”
Mom twists her wedding ring around her finger, something she does when she gets anxious or upset. “Put yourself in our shoes, Lauren. What if you saw your own child going down a path that you know they’re going to regret?”