My Fair Aussie by Jennifer Griffith
There’s more to this Aussie cowboy than meets the eye.
Former grad student Eliza works as a nanny for a self-absorbed trophy wife looking to trade up for a new husband and ditch her child. Eliza will do anything to protect the little girl and open her boss’s eyes. Even if it requires an elaborate hoax.
Then fate hits Eliza with Henry, a bewildered, dirty guy at the bus station. He’s got amazing teeth, cowboy swagger, and an accent to swoon for. Everything is falling into place for a rags-to-riches-style bait and switch. But will it deliver a slice of humble pie to Eliza’s boss—or get Eliza fired?
Worse, refining him might mean losing her heart.
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Praise for My Fair Aussie
My Fair Aussie is the perfect retelling of a classic tale with a delicious twist—and an Australian cowboy to boot. It’s the ideal combination of humor and romance. Totally swoon-worthy. Highly recommended! – CJ Anaya, USA Today bestselling author
“How does she do it? Griffith once again makes me laugh out loud and thoroughly enjoy a good book. Love her cute characters.” Amazon Reviewer ‘grimm
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Excerpt 1
“So you’re saying we find our very own Eliza Doolittle, but a guy, ‘deliciously dirty,’ as you say—”
“He has to be deliciously dirty.”
“Right. We do a quick ritzy makeover on him and try to pass him off as one of the type of guys Monique-Noelle and her army of vacuous gold-diggers are looking for.”
“Even better, we set things up so Mo-No could actually totally fall for him. And when she does, we whisk him away and then let her find out the truth.” Polly wasn’t the type to get giddy, but she did have a light in her eye.
And maybe, with that, Mo-No realizes she should appreciate the man who was the father of her beautiful daughter and quit trying to trade up. Or down. Or sideways.
Or for more hair.
“And where do we get someone deliciously dirty who also isn’t a drug dealer or user or, you know, dangerous?”
“I didn’t say this plan was without risks. But we’ll be careful.” Polly’s eyes danced. “I’m a good judge of character.”
Yeah. Everyone thought that about themselves. Skepticism crept up in me. There was no way we could pull off something of this magnitude. We shouldn’t even be considering it.
“So you’re saying we find our very own Eliza Doolittle, but a guy, ‘deliciously dirty,’ as you say—”
“He has to be deliciously dirty.”
“Right. We do a quick ritzy makeover on him and try to pass him off as one of the type of guys Monique-Noelle and her army of vacuous gold-diggers are looking for.”
“Even better, we set things up so Mo-No could actually totally fall for him. And when she does, we whisk him away and then let her find out the truth.” Polly wasn’t the type to get giddy, but she did have a light in her eye.
And maybe, with that, Mo-No realizes she should appreciate the man who was the father of her beautiful daughter and quit trying to trade up. Or down. Or sideways.
Or for more hair.
“And where do we get someone deliciously dirty who also isn’t a drug dealer or user or, you know, dangerous?”
“I didn’t say this plan was without risks. But we’ll be careful.” Polly’s eyes danced. “I’m a good judge of character.”
Yeah. Everyone thought that about themselves. Skepticism crept up in me. There was no way we could pull off something of this magnitude. We shouldn’t even be considering it.
Excerpt 2
“Are you okay, sir?” I couldn’t help asking. He looked so forlorn.
“Actually, an international phone. That’s what I really need.” As he said the word need, I caught a glimpse of his teeth.
Okay, I might have a thing about teeth. An obsession, Polly calls it. A very good set of teeth can completely blind me to myriad other characteristics that would make a person otherwise unappealing.
And these teeth happened to be the best, most dazzling teeth I’d ever seen. My heart may have skipped a beat.
Maybe it was because they contrasted so starkly against his sunburnt face, or played so nicely off his extremely messy blond hair, but suddenly, I was entranced and ignoring everything else that I should be paying attention to—like the fact he was a homeless man who lived at the bus station and was asking to borrow, or possibly steal, my phone.
“I’ve got to get an international phone.” He said it again, and this time I picked apart the accent more. My mind was like one of those police phone traces when a hostage-taker called. Keep ’em on the line just a few more seconds—we’re pinpointing. He had to talk more for me to place it. Not American, not quite British. South African, maybe? Kiwi?
…
Polly took him by the shoulders and spun him around. “Nice build. That, plus the teeth. You’ll do.”
“Are you okay, sir?” I couldn’t help asking. He looked so forlorn.
“Actually, an international phone. That’s what I really need.” As he said the word need, I caught a glimpse of his teeth.
Okay, I might have a thing about teeth. An obsession, Polly calls it. A very good set of teeth can completely blind me to myriad other characteristics that would make a person otherwise unappealing.
And these teeth happened to be the best, most dazzling teeth I’d ever seen. My heart may have skipped a beat.
Maybe it was because they contrasted so starkly against his sunburnt face, or played so nicely off his extremely messy blond hair, but suddenly, I was entranced and ignoring everything else that I should be paying attention to—like the fact he was a homeless man who lived at the bus station and was asking to borrow, or possibly steal, my phone.
“I’ve got to get an international phone.” He said it again, and this time I picked apart the accent more. My mind was like one of those police phone traces when a hostage-taker called. Keep ’em on the line just a few more seconds—we’re pinpointing. He had to talk more for me to place it. Not American, not quite British. South African, maybe? Kiwi?
…
Polly took him by the shoulders and spun him around. “Nice build. That, plus the teeth. You’ll do.”
Excerpt 3
“That’s nice and all,” Henry said, his dazzling teeth outshining his grime, “but I really do need access to an international phone. This place only has a pay phone that calls locally, and I need to make an overseas call, and—”
“How about this, Henry?” Polly rubbed her chin as if she were an old man stroking his beard in thought. “We need someone to do a project with us for two weeks.”
Two weeks! I spluttered beside her, not knowing how to stop this fast-moving freight train. Did she even know what she was saying?
“At the end of two weeks, if you can accomplish what we need you to do—all of it being totally legal and above-board, I promise—I’ll make sure you get an international phone.”
“Two weeks…” Henry frowned. He didn’t have the confused look of earlier, but he didn’t seem to be rejecting it. “What exactly are we talking about?”
“Oh, it will be fun. Lots of fun.” Polly would not be stopped. “You’ll get to dress in nice clothes, meet wealthy people, go to at least one nice party.”
I’d rather work for Mo-No forever than hurt this guy who was worrying about the helicopters and the water in the river and his fanciful realm of reality-forged-of-imagination. For as wacked as it was, his crazy worldview definitely did seem harmless, sweet almost. And his Australian accent, now that it quit plaguing me as I tried to decipher it, was totally engaging.
We could not set him up.
However, Henry didn’t look appalled; he looked intrigued, if that was possible, through the grime. “My Fair Lady. I get it. But in this case, I’m the lady.”
“That’s nice and all,” Henry said, his dazzling teeth outshining his grime, “but I really do need access to an international phone. This place only has a pay phone that calls locally, and I need to make an overseas call, and—”
“How about this, Henry?” Polly rubbed her chin as if she were an old man stroking his beard in thought. “We need someone to do a project with us for two weeks.”
Two weeks! I spluttered beside her, not knowing how to stop this fast-moving freight train. Did she even know what she was saying?
“At the end of two weeks, if you can accomplish what we need you to do—all of it being totally legal and above-board, I promise—I’ll make sure you get an international phone.”
“Two weeks…” Henry frowned. He didn’t have the confused look of earlier, but he didn’t seem to be rejecting it. “What exactly are we talking about?”
“Oh, it will be fun. Lots of fun.” Polly would not be stopped. “You’ll get to dress in nice clothes, meet wealthy people, go to at least one nice party.”
I’d rather work for Mo-No forever than hurt this guy who was worrying about the helicopters and the water in the river and his fanciful realm of reality-forged-of-imagination. For as wacked as it was, his crazy worldview definitely did seem harmless, sweet almost. And his Australian accent, now that it quit plaguing me as I tried to decipher it, was totally engaging.
We could not set him up.
However, Henry didn’t look appalled; he looked intrigued, if that was possible, through the grime. “My Fair Lady. I get it. But in this case, I’m the lady.”
Excerpt 4
“Let’s have my story be—” he stroked my index finger “—I’m an Australian.” He caressed my thumb. “I run a huge cattle operation in the high country.” He followed along with each of my other fingers while I blinked. “I’m here in the States exploring top-secret business opportunities.”
I heard the words. They went into my ear canals, but I didn’t process them at all. His fingertips were now sliding along the back of my hand, and then across my palm and my fingers again, and the only one of my five senses I could compute was touch, it was so engrossing. Showers of tingles filled every cell and molecule of me.
After a bit of my stunned silence, he said, “How does that sound, Eliza?” He said my name, with the Elizer accent again, and my sense of hearing kicked back in. “Cattle baron?”
“Right.” I gulped once, and then again. “Cattle baron.” That would explain any lack of polish, as well as the cowboy walk, and the great tan for this time of year. Wasn’t it the dead of summer there right now, while we were leading up to Christmas here in the northern hemisphere?
Perfect.
“Perfect,” I breathed.
“Perfect,” he said, lifting my hand and giving it a kiss, and turning my insides from mere tingling sparklers to the full-on Fourth of July. “A cattle baron might win any girl’s heart. Even a nanny’s.”
“Let’s have my story be—” he stroked my index finger “—I’m an Australian.” He caressed my thumb. “I run a huge cattle operation in the high country.” He followed along with each of my other fingers while I blinked. “I’m here in the States exploring top-secret business opportunities.”
I heard the words. They went into my ear canals, but I didn’t process them at all. His fingertips were now sliding along the back of my hand, and then across my palm and my fingers again, and the only one of my five senses I could compute was touch, it was so engrossing. Showers of tingles filled every cell and molecule of me.
After a bit of my stunned silence, he said, “How does that sound, Eliza?” He said my name, with the Elizer accent again, and my sense of hearing kicked back in. “Cattle baron?”
“Right.” I gulped once, and then again. “Cattle baron.” That would explain any lack of polish, as well as the cowboy walk, and the great tan for this time of year. Wasn’t it the dead of summer there right now, while we were leading up to Christmas here in the northern hemisphere?
Perfect.
“Perfect,” I breathed.
“Perfect,” he said, lifting my hand and giving it a kiss, and turning my insides from mere tingling sparklers to the full-on Fourth of July. “A cattle baron might win any girl’s heart. Even a nanny’s.”
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Author Jennifer Griffith
Jennifer Griffith writes light, sweet romances she calls Cotton Candy for the Soul. Her Legally in Love Collection stems from the fact she fell in love with a handsome law school student who now serves as a judge—as well as her muse. She also writes the Billionaire Makeover Romances, billionaires and makeovers being some things with which she has less experience.
Jennifer loves old cars, landscape paintings, fresh bread with raspberry jam, and reading. She lived in Japan during college, where she once ate a cricket on a dare. She also traveled through Europe, where she slept a night in a castle on the Rhine. Jennifer worked summers in a cookie factory, and she spent a few years working for the U.S. Congress before becoming a wife, a mom and an author.
Ends 12/22/17
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