The Girl He Wants

The Girl He Wants

by Kristi Rose

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781601839718
Publisher: Kensington
Publication date: 02/14/2017
Series: No Strings Attached , #3
Sold by: Penguin Random House Publisher Services
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 250
Sales rank: 213,983
File size: 1 MB

About the Author

Kristi Rose is the author of the No Strings Attached series and the Coming Home series, and is also a pediatric Occupational Therapist. She traveled extensively before settling down with her family. She loves hearing from readers. Please visit her website at, find her on Facebook, or follow her on Twitter @krosewrites.

Read an Excerpt

The Girl He Wants

A No Strings Attached Novel

By Kristi Rose


Copyright © 2016 Kristi Rose
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-60183-971-8


"It's not usual for you to be here on a Friday." Amit, the gent who owns the Indian restaurant where I get my takeaway, arches his brow. "Or do I have my days mixed up and it's Thursday?"

I briefly wave my phone in the air. "What can I say? I'm a dedicated business owner like yourself." Because he's always here when I come in. I type the last sentence in the email I began composing earlier this afternoon, which feels like a lifetime ago, and press send. I check my inbox and find twelve new emails; that's over fifty I'll need to answer tonight.

I should be happy that my business is doing so well, but at this moment I only feel tired. Exhausted from the endless days, I can't determine when I did what or if I intended to do something but never got to it. It's starting to blur together.

I'm thinking the funneling of energy drinks doesn't help either.

"I had a shipment today that was wrong. According to the packing slip, I ordered four beautifully crafted Italian knee-high boots in brushed brown leather. Also according to the slip, they were in the box that contained the slip, but according to my eyes and hands, nothing was in said box but Styrofoam peanuts. I've been on the phone making international calls all day."

Amit's bored stare tells me he'd rather not listen to me prattle on about my woes. I mean who cares that I've done takeaway from him practically every Thursday for the last few years? It's this look now that's stopped me from putting him on my Christmas mailing list. That and he's Hindu.

"I suppose you ordered the same thing?" He shrugs while reloading the toothpick dispenser.

"When something works, why change it?" I lean against the counter.

"Because you might like something new. Add a little excitement." His look is pointed.

"My parents have had no luck hiring wait staff for their pub, three months now." I show him three fingers. "I've been working there during the dinner rush to help out. That's plenty of exciting for me." And draining. It's mind-boggling how my parents do it every day, because the few short hours I go in leave me weary and desperate for a bath and foot massage.

"You need a new definition of excitement." He finishes with the toothpicks and moves to replenishing his takeaway menus.

I scroll through the emails and ignore him. That's twice today I've been told to mix things up.

This morning's fortune cookie read: Sometimes we need to wander off the beaten path to find our true destination.

Complete rubbish that.

For someone who finds wisdom and guidance in the prophecy of a good fortune cookie, that one was disappointing for sure. It will not be a fortune I'll tuck into my inspiration jar at home with the intention to draw it again. No thank you; I only save the really good ones. That one was immediately tossed into my cavernous handbag with a slim chance of ever surfacing again.

Being singularly focused on my goals and staying on the well-traveled path of small business entrepreneurship has brought me success. I'm certainly not going to "wander" as I'm about to launch the next stage in my Jayne-takes-over-the-fashion-world plan. First Florida, then — sooner rather than later — another state. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

And, really, how would trying something different on Amit's menu provide such a thrill it would change my life?

The bell to his door chimes as it opens and I move aside to make room for the customer that's come in. He pays and casts me a quick smile when he picks up his order.

It does smell wonderful.

"I'm excited to try the special, Amit," the guy says as he's making his way out.

"Enjoy. Come again, Joe." Amit waves and turns his attention back to me. "Joe tries something new every time he comes in."

"I like what I like and what I like is shrimp korma and naan with cheese." I really like the cheese.

"Why are you not going out tonight? You're too young to sit in your house probably peeking out the window and watching others. You need a date? I can introduce you to Joe." Amit takes a bundle of takeaway orders from the waitress delivering them.

"What? No. I do not peek out my windows and I do not need to be set up." And not by the guy I get takeaway from either. "As if. I mean, it's Friday and Joe's getting takeaway." I cross my arms. "I worked a long day at both my own shop and my parents' restaurant. Also, I have bookkeeping that must be done or else my business will implode from the weight of all this paper and all will be for naught." I nod as if to put finality to the sentence. "What's Joe's reason?"

Amit gives me a flat look. Definitely not getting a holiday card from me. "He's a doctor. He probably just got off work."

That explains trying the special. Everyone knows doctors are thrill seekers.

Amit looks at the receipt on a bag. "Jay-nee."

"It's Jayne. No nee." We do this every time. I think it's his way of teasing me.

"But it's not spelled like Jane."

"No, it's not." I stare into the chaos of my overstuffed handbag, preparing for the dive in to retrieve my money. A scarf and several bits of paper in various sizes, mostly receipts and notes, obscure the view into the depths. Funny — or is it ironic — the bloody fortune from this morning is right on top as if chanting its false wisdom. With vigor (likely due to equal parts hunger and frustration), I plunge my hand into the bag and dig for my purse. When I find it, I pull it free with a feeling of victory. As it would happen, I also pull free a newspaper clipping, which flies out and lands on the counter, facing Amit.

The headline reads: Young entrepreneur invents menstrual undies and makes first million by thirty. On a Post-it note, Mum has scrolled This could be you, time is ticking!

Embarrassed, I snatch it up, crumpling it in one hand before tucking it back into my purse.

Amit stares at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, a puzzled look on his face. I don't have the energy to explain that my mum frequently leaves inspirational messages such as this one in my purse, on my car windshield, or clipped on her schedule board at the pub.

I count out the dollars needed to make my escape while silently cursing Mum and her obsession with the business side of my life. Most mums plead for grandbabies. Not mine, she wants me to have a set amount in the bank before I bring anyone else in the picture. The second year after I opened my shop, she went as far as making a motivator for me, drawing out a thermometer on the large chalkboard she kept in her office — the top being my target net worth — and tsking when I fell short at the monthly check-ins she required. I've refused to participate each year and, even though I've yet to reach the goals she's set, I've come really close. Though in Mum's eyes really close and success are not equal.

Amit hands me my change.

I snatch my takeaway bag from the counter and exit as fast as I can.

The drive to my flat — or as my friend Paisley likes to correct, townhouse — is quick and loaded with yawn suppressions. When I pull into the lot facing my place, too lazy to park in my garage, the obnoxious growl of my stomach has replaced my yawning as the tangy yet sweet aroma of my shrimp korma keeps my salivary glands working overtime. I'm hungry enough I could eat in the car. But I'll likely fall into a sleep coma afterward and perhaps my car isn't the best place. What does it say about me that I'm ready for bed at half past nine?

Spinster? Workaholic? Loner?

I wouldn't hear that from Mum. She'd applaud any of one of those, surely.

Before I go inside, I take out the extra fish I nicked from Mum's pub. Behind the shrub next to my front door, I've placed a small bowl where I dump the fish.

"Kitty, kitty," I say, calling the feral tabby arsehole that's been coming around.

I say he's an arsehole because he, like all men, deigns me with his presence when it suits him. Not that I asked him to come around. When he first popped up, I tried to shoo him away and for my efforts was awarded several eight-inch claw marks down my arm. Not before I felt his jutting ribs and the lack of meat between his skin and bones. I'm not keen to be a crazy cat lady, though. Which is why I tried to make him scamper off in the first place. Pushing thirty, the last thing I need is a horde of cats. Are you married? Have children? Pushy folks always want to know your status. I don't want mine to be that I have more cats than fingers and toes. That's a meme if there ever was one.

Still, he's terribly scrawny and I can't bear to see him looking the way he does, those big green eyes blinking at me. Hence the fish from Mum's. I wait a few beats but there's no sign of him.

See Jayne be an absolute sucker.

Once inside, I toss my ledgers on the table. I swear I'll get to them at some point today but first ... food. Without bothering to change from my dress, I devour the bread while standing in my kitchen. My phone chimes an alert, reminding me I have a new client appointment first thing in the morning. I inspect my chipped nail polish, ruined from helping bus tables and working the dishwasher at the pub. To show up like this tomorrow will not do!

Right, first things first. Nails and food then books. By then I hope to catch my second wind and be able to power through the paperwork. Who doesn't like to do typing and paperwork with pretty nails? Masochists, that's who.

Bonus, I fancy the gel polish that doesn't require a special lamp to process. I love that it cuts down on the nail painting upkeep, as it lasts longer. Though it does need several coats. Excited, I change into yoga pants and a t-shirt, because I'm an expert at getting a food stain out of my clothes, but not nail polish.

I set up the polish next to the remainder of my food and click on the telly. Starting with my toes, I apply my favorite color. Mum calls it dirty slag red.

"Should I stop wearing it?" I once asked, humoring her.

"Is this the color a smart, successful business woman selects? Just be mindful that you're drawing in the wrong sort. Sending the wrong message," was her response. Tonight, I shall ignore her warning.

I aim to see eleven o'clock. But to do so means none of the standard telly for me. Good as my favorite shows, Graham Norton or Downton Abbey are, they'll knock me out. I've a free trial to one of those premium channels and after nine p.m. things get a wee bit racy. Does an accelerated heart rate from soft porn count as cardio? I hope so. That'll be the catalyst for my second wind and give me the energy to do my ledgers.

If my clients could see me now they'd never believe it. Posh Jayne Grandberry with the immaculate clothes and style, painting her toes while eating a large portion of shrimp korma from the box it came in. Thankfully, my first impression is usually cracking good. It's in the privacy of my own home where I cast off that mantle. Here I wear manky yoga pants and mismatched fuzzy socks. I show this side only to my family and closest friends, who happen to be a small group of women that came together nearly two years ago.

I complete the coats of polish on my toenails and start my fingernails. I'm placing the first coat on one hand when the melodic ringing of my phone forces me to pause. I click the sound of the telly down, lest the vixen who's currently getting a massage starts moaning, as people in these types of shows tend to do.

Paisley's name shows on my screen and I hesitate. She's supposed to be on a blind date, and our mutual friends Josie and Brinn are with her. What could she want with me? A rescue? Paisley already has two guys on the hook. When I saw her earlier today at my shop, she didn't seem keen on a third. Rescue seems the likeliest.

If I answer, there's a good chance I'll have a hard time saying no.

If I ignore it, I will keep to my plan and my workday will have surpassed the twelve-hour mark.

See Jayne rescue her friend and be a hero.

I stifle a yawn before I answer. "Hallo." I stare longingly at my food, knowing the odds of not finishing it just increased. Quickly, I shove a food-laden fork in my mouth. My gaze settles on the half-empty — or should I be an optimist and say almost full? — glass of wine. Had I finished it I wouldn't be able to drive, so I'll give her props for timing. It's a shame to waste it. Can it be funneled back into the bottle to save for later?

"Jayne, what are you doing? Right. Now," Paisley calls into the phone. I can tell she's overly excited because her southern drawl gets thicker and her voice goes up a few octaves.

I make her wait while I chew then swallow. "Right now, right now?" I ask, a trace of sarcasm in my voice. She sounds too happy for me to be alarmed.

"Yes, right now," she answers, a bit impatiently.

I glance from the telly, my nails, the food, and my bag with the ledgers. Truth is, I'm terribly behind on the administration bit of my business, which in turn means I've neglected the private clients I do personal shopping for. All this combined affects the color of my bottom dollar. I prefer black, but if I continue with my current habits then red it will likely be. Which is why I've also decided to paint my manky nails the motivating yet forewarning shade of Russian Roulette (AKA sultry slag red) instead of my typically encouraging Midnight Fog. I've still only one hand emblazoned with the bold red color, though it's streaky and needs the second coat.

"Well, let's see. Right now I've Colin Firth on the other line begging me to fly in and see him. Graham Norton keeps texting me to leave this small hick town to do wardrobe on his show, where he promises I shall meet more eligible men than I can handle, and Ryan Reynolds is naked in my bed as we speak. So make this quick."

"So you've got nothing going on. That's great!" Now she's fairly singing with excitement.

"What's so great about my pathetically boring existence and that I'm home on a Friday night?" I sigh wearily, seeing now how I must have appeared in Amit's eyes. A young woman who can't even be bothered to meet a young, and in hindsight somewhat handsome, doctor. I really am a sorry sod.

"Nothing except now you do have plans. Get your bum off the couch and put on something pretty, but casual. Meet us at Maggie May's. Oh and brush your teeth. I bet you've had Indian food."

I huff. "I always brush my teeth." But I'm saying it to the air because she's already rung off.


I hop up and get moving, because Paisley's punctual and will be ringing me incessantly if I'm not there in the time she thinks appropriate. I'm curious as to why she's invited me on her blind date. Likely it's to be a buffer, and I'm interested to see how awful this guy is that he requires an intermediary. There's no use counting on Josie and Brinn. They're only good for the beginning portion of an evening, typically, as the night progresses they lose focus in everything and everyone but each other.

Truthfully, I'm excited to be getting out. My books can wait until tomorrow. Besides, I'll be refreshed and more on top of it all then. If I'm honest, today, I'm too knackered for anything more than mindless conversation and laughter.

I don a pair of light pink skinny jeans, a gauzy tunic with a pastel floral print, and belt it using a silver, pressed-metal chain. I eye my shoes; my toenails look fabulous, so open toe it is! I've two pairs that will work with this outfit. One flats and the other modest heels. If I wear the heels, small as they are, I'm more than likely going to be taller than any guy I may come across tonight. My accent does a good job of attracting men. Once I stand, however, even being British can't overcome my height. I settle for flats.

A quick fluff to the hair, a light dusting of blush followed by an even lighter coat of powder, and a swipe of gloss to plump up my lips and I'm ready.

The unpainted nails glare at me in the mirror.

Shite. The smart thing to do is take the time to soak and remove the polish, let my nails go naked. But that'd be ten minutes at least, and any other method of removal would destroy my nails and make my hands look bloody awful. Besides, I'd like them done for tomorrow's meeting. I weigh my options. Why'd I have to use the bloody gel polish?

I decide to paint on the drive to Maggie May's — I can get the second hand done on the way over. Put the topcoat on in the car park. Drying time isn't exceptionally long. The whole routine will take less time than doing a removal and tomorrow my morning won't be frantic, which has the tendency to set the day off poorly.


Excerpted from The Girl He Wants by Kristi Rose. Copyright © 2016 Kristi Rose. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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The Girl He Wants 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
CChimni 13 days ago
I loved Josie and Brinn’s story. As with the series what starts as no strings turns to more. Each character has personal struggles to overcome and decisions to make for themselves. But they can’t deny their draw to each other and their chemistry. I love their banter. Looking forward to more from this series.
Suze-Lavender More than 1 year ago
Jayne has a clear plan for the future, she wants to be a successful business owner. She has her own shop and personal shopping service and is looking for a location to open a second shop, so she can expand and attract more customers. Jayne is determined to make it on her own, love might hurt her deeply and that's exactly what she tries to avoid. When she meets Stacy, her new neighbor, Jayne vows not to fall in love with him, but maybe they can have some fun? Stacy is good with numbers. He's a single dad and needs the flexible hours of being his own boss, so he can be there for his daughter. They were ready for a fresh start and Stacy and his daughter perfectly fit in and feel at home in their new neighborhood. Falling in love wasn't part of Stacy's plan, especially not after his recently broken engagement, but Jayne is difficult to resist and after spending a fantastic night together he wants more, but her walls are hard to break down. Will Stacy be able to convince Jayne that love can be wonderful and that she should give it a chance? The Girl He Wants is a fabulous love story with amazing main characters. Jayne is smart, independent and talented. She loves with all her heart and this makes her friends, family and customers feel great, but it's easy for her to get hurt too. She does everything for the people she holds dear. She doesn't think she's the nurturing type, but she's actually really sweet and generous. That's why she and Stacy are such a good match, they both have beautiful souls and never mind helping others. I loved their chemistry, their easy friendship and the natural way they are always there for one another. Their story captivated me from the start en enchanted me until the very end. Kristi Rose has a lovely fast-paced writing style. I like how original her main characters are. They have strong personalities with clear wants and needs and she makes them truly special. She creates an atmosphere that's heartwarming through the friendships she writes about, which gives her books a solid foundation. I love a good story about true love and The Girl He Wants definitely falls into that category. It's a delightful story filled with charm, warmth and love. I highly recommend this terrific romantic book.
Marichus-Real More than 1 year ago
I received a free review copy of this book by NetGalley Jayne’s dream is to open another shop for her clients. She is always taking fortune cookies and reading the small notes inside. She is not looking for a forever relationship. Stacey focus is her daughter Cordie and being able to live on their own. He is looking for a forever relationship and some more kids. The book was very boring for me. I struggled to finish it. It was like a diary but with no dates on it. The story was from Jayne’s POV and she related every single thing she did and every single thought she had. I think it would have been better if the story had had some chapters with Stacey’s POV. However, I liked when Jayne and Cordie were together, those parts were really nice. I like Jayne’s friends, how they were united and available to help anyone of them who needed it.