Hello Readers,
I’ve brought you an exclusive excerpt from “Family Dinners with the Billionaire”Ā by author Amberlee Day. I hope you enjoy it and if you’d like to just jump into the book, you can click here.
EXCERPT:
Julieās pulse hadnāt returned to normal since the troops stormed the kitchen. Now that it appeared sheād be allowed to stay through dinner, four pairs of eyes focused on her, each showcasing a different emotion: hopeful Olive, hungry Des, bored Ingrid, andā¦well, she wasnāt sure how to read Mr. Boltās expression, but sheād say determined to maintain control, mixed with equal parts dangerous and skeptical.
āOkay, Julie,ā sweet Oliveās little-girl voice encouraged, ātell us about dinner.ā
āRight.ā Julie pulled her eyes away from theirs. Thankfully, when she spotted the food on the cabinet, she came to her senses. āTonight weāre going to make chicken stir fry.ā
āSounds, great,ā Des said, moving farther into the kitchen. Julie guessed the boy was around ten or eleven. He definitely took after his father, with a powerful build and already wide shoulders. āWhere do we start?ā
āI always like to start with washing hands,ā Julie said, still tentative but trying to be cheerful. While the kids queued up at the sink, their father stepped toward her, his eyes still shooting darts. When his brow furrowed and he looked like he was about to yell again, she braced herself. But it wasnāt her he was barking at this time.
āIngrid. Change first,ā he said, his eyes remaining on Julie. āNine-and-a-half minutes.ā
āFine,ā the older girl huffed, leaving the way sheād come.
āTeenagers,ā Julie said with a smile and a slight shrug, hoping to soften the mood. It didnāt work.
āDo you always start off a job by interrupting overseas calls and causing widespread panic?ā
Julie had already begun opening a jar of cornstarch and got some on her hands. She wiped it on a towel before extending her hand. Someone needed to start being civil here, even if this job wouldnāt continue past tonight.
āNo, I normally introduce myself. Julie Kiyama.ā
He scowled at her hand a moment before taking it in his own. Surprisingly, a zinging sensation jolted through her at the connection, suddenly making her self-conscious that this impossible-to-ignore man was touching her hand, which was attached to the rest of her. When his eyes widened, she thought she read a new awareness in them. Did he feel that too?
āJetton Bolt,ā he said, releasing her hand after a succinct pump.
Julie couldnāt quite suppress the nervous giggle that bubbled up. āJett-n? Because you like to go fast?ā Before she could think better of it, she pumped her arms in slow motion, like she was imitating a toddler trying really hard to run.
āIf that makes you feel better to think so.ā His dismissive tone made her want to hit him in the head with a frying pan, but she stopped the running motion. āItās actually derived from a family name. My maternal grandmotherās maiden name was Jett.ā
āI imagine a little boy named Jett-n would be pretty adorable,ā she said, still emphasizing the cute pronunciation. āWhatās your middle name?ā
Yes, he could see the indication that he might consider going by that insteadāthough, seriously, it was a great name. She couldnāt admit that, however. Even if she did commit the cardinal mistake of using the intercom, he was just a bit too uppity for his own good. Sheād be willing to bet he was used to people bowing and scraping to get his approval. Of course, those people probably didnāt get pretty much fired before they started working.
Jetton Boltās features remained unchanged. Note to self: donāt play poker with this man.
When the water turned off at the sink, Julie turned her attention to the remaining two children, her back on Jetton.
āAll right, Olive and Des. You two look ready. Step right up to a workstation. Weāll get you started while we wait for Ingrid to come back and for your father to wash his hands.ā
She didnāt look to see Jettonās reaction, but satisfaction relaxed her shoulders when she heard the water running in the sink again. Maybe he really was going to cooperate with her, at least for tonight. She explained a few of the tasks to the children, just as she would if they had come to her restaurant to cook. While Des cut broccoli into flowerets and Olive carefully measured garlic and spooned it onto the pre-cut raw chicken pieces, Julie turned to light the stoveāand ran right into Jetton.
āWhoops! Sorry.ā Her hands landed right on his exceptionally muscular chest. She drew back as quickly as she could manageācuriosity tempted her to let her hands stay where they were and think about that firm physique a moment longer, but she held them up in surrender and sidestepped to go around him. A teensy glance at his steely eyes confirmed that he was not amused.
āLetās get this pan fired up. Jetton, you can measure two tablespoons of oil so we can cook the chicken.ā A thought stopped her, and she scrutinized his chest again, this time for long enough that he said something.
āSee what you need, or do you require another examination?ā he asked, making heat rush up to her cheeks.
āWhat I seeāand yes, feltāis a silk shirt. You may want to wear an apron to avoid grease spots.ā
His eyes narrowed in contempt and he snortedāor was it a laugh? āI donāt wear aprons.ā
āNo?ā Julie almost wanted to laugh herself at how childish he looked, but his arrogance was too off-putting. She couldnāt laugh at it. Shrugging, she said, āFine. Ruin a perfectly nice shirt. That pan will heat up quickly, so if you could put the oil in now, Iāll haveā¦ā Ingrid returned just then, her hair piled in a bun that put her a good five inches taller than Julie. And yes, she wore a modest t-shirt and some flowy lounge pants. āIngrid, glad to have you back. If you could wash your handsā¦?ā
The girl waved her fingers with a bored look. āJust did.ā
āGreat. Then if you want to grab that bowl Olive has with the chicken and bring it over to the stove, weāll get cooking.ā
That earned her another cold look from Jetton, and Julieās nervous giggle threatened to emerge again. Yes, her letās get cooking proclamation over the intercom would not be forgiven. Even though sheād be leaving tonight with instructions to never return, she had to hand it to herself; she knew how to make a lasting first impression.
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