When a famous music producer moves to Lake Starlight it can’t just be a coincidence. It’s the universe helping to move things along in the right direction so that Griffin Thorne can discover me.
I have to confess—I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Confession #1: I may have overhead that he was in search of a nanny. What can I say? My brother has a big mouth.
Confession #2: It’s possible I helped along the assumption that I had nanny experience. Hey, babysitting my nieces and nephew counts, right?
Confession #3: There’s a good chance I oversold my qualifications. But my Grandma Dori backed me up, so it’s not completely my fault.
And it worked. He hired me. Only for me to find out that he left the business.
I guess it’s on to Plan B.
When he accidentally overhears me singing, I expect nothing from him. Then he asks to work with me on a song for our town’s Founder’s Day Parade and it feels like a dream come true. Until…
Confession #4: I’ve fallen for him.
Confessions of a Naughty Nanny by Piper Rayne is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.
Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!
1
When a famous music producer moves to Lake Starlight it can’t just be a coincidence. It’s the universe helping to move things along in the right direction so that Griffin Thorne can discover me.
I have to confess—I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Confession #1: I may have overhead that he was in search of a nanny. What can I say? My brother has a big mouth.
Confession #2: It’s possible I helped along the assumption that I had nanny experience. Hey, babysitting my nieces and nephew counts, right?
Confession #3: There’s a good chance I oversold my qualifications. But my Grandma Dori backed me up, so it’s not completely my fault.
And it worked. He hired me. Only for me to find out that he left the business.
I guess it’s on to Plan B.
When he accidentally overhears me singing, I expect nothing from him. Then he asks to work with me on a song for our town’s Founder’s Day Parade and it feels like a dream come true. Until…
Confession #4: I’ve fallen for him.
Book 6 in the Baileys Series
Author: Piper Rayne
“Did he just pick his nose?” Sedona asks.
“Yep. Welcome to Rome’s life now.”
“Ew, gross.”
Dion pulls his finger from his nose and inspects the booger on the end. His mouth slowly opens.
“Phoenix, stop him.”
Dion sticks his finger into his mouth.
“Then I’d have to touch his finger,” I say.
“You cannot let our nephew eat boogers.”
Sedona is much like Savannah. I think they share a Pinterest page on organizational techniques.
“Can and did. If you want to stop him, get on a plane.”
My bitterness toward my twin sister living out her dream can be heard in my voice. I’ll admit, I am a little stubborn.
“How many times do I need to apologize for not making it to a two-year-old’s birthday?”
I can hear Sedona’s exasperation toward me in her voice.
Now I feel like a shitty sister for not jumping up and down because she’s about to graduate from college with the English degree she has always wanted.
As I’m about to respond, Grandma Dori puts her face in front of the iPad.
“Hi, Grandma,” Sedona greets her for the fifth time so far today, and we haven’t even had the cake yet.
“Technology.” Grandma Dori shakes her head. “You look tired, dear. Naps are great, but no more than fifteen minutes.” She wiggles her finger.
“Maybe it’s Jamison keeping her up at night?” I say.
Grandma Dori looks at me with her grey eyebrows raised.
“Stop it, Phoenix. It’s not, Gram. Don’t worry about that.”
Sedona’s quick to diffuse any rumors that she may not be a virgin. This family would be shocked to know she lost her virginity well before I ever lost mine.
I can picture their gasps and covered mouths—“not our perfect Sedona”—if they ever found out. But me?
I’m the black sheep, the bad pea in the pod, or whatever idiom one might use for the person who isn’t like the others in their family.
“Don’t let her fool you, Grandma. I heard her birthday gift from Jamison was a threesome.”
“Phoenix!”
Sedona’s so loud, all the partygoers turn and look our way. They don’t ask for a reason why Sedona’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment. They’ll all assume I’m the cause.
In truth, I think Jamison got her a necklace with his picture inside a heart or something pathetically cliché.
“I’m kidding,” I say.
Grandma Dori smacks me on the back of the head. “What am I going to do with you?”
I shrug and pop another shrimp tart Rome prepared into my mouth.
“How’s the food?” Sedona asks after Grandma Dori heads over to talk to Juno.
“Awesome as usual.”
She groans. “All I have is a stale bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.”
“Why doesn’t Jamison bring you something?” I can’t even count to two before she’s making an excuse for him.
“He’s in Chicago.”
“Doing what?”
“Playing professional soccer.” She rolls her eyes and blows out a breath. “I should probably go. I have a final to study for.”
I roll my eyes.
“Cake time!” Rome yells, and Harley walks in with an elaborate dinosaur cake.
“Did you just buy one in every color of these things?” Denver asks Rome, touching the wrap contraption Rome has Phoebe in on his chest.
At only five months, she’s the spitting image of her older sister, Calista.
Dion jumps up and down and digs his fingers into the cake.
“Glad I’m not eating the cake,” Sedona says.
“There’s a whole other good side,” I say, eyeing the side Dion didn’t get his fingers into. I plan on devouring that chocolaty goodness to bury my depression over my lack of forward motion in my life.
“I miss Sweet Suga.” Sedona sighs, and I bet if I looked at the iPad screen, I’d see a bit of drool falling down her chin.
The one thing I have that she doesn’t is that I get to eat cake from her favorite bakery.
“You’re still coming back after finals, right?” I ask.
“Um… yeah.”
“For good?”
The silence on her end makes me swivel the iPad to face me. It’s then that I see the hesitation in her eyes.
“Sedona.” I clench my jaw. I knew Jamison would make her change her plans when they got back together.
“Well, Jamison asked me to move in with him.”
“He what?”
Austin interrupts us. “Hey, girls, mind actually singing for your nephew’s birthday?”
I turn the iPad back toward everyone while anger festers inside me. My mumbled “Happy Birthday” song is drowned out by the rest of my siblings and guests. My eyes remain on Dion.
His smile is so big, you’d think all the characters from Paw Patrol were surrounding him.
I remember the day he was born. Harley’s text came through right after I finished a gig that paid me only twenty dollars because the bar was so empty.
She announced that she was in labor with Dion, and my phone blew up as I walked out of the dingy bar in Los Angeles that had treated me more like a glorified karaoke singer than a professional singer.
I sent the obligatory congratulations with a sad emoji that I wouldn’t be there. And I meant that text. I love my niece and nephew. If only for the fact that they make Rome’s life hell at times.
I mean, Calista and her whole “Baby Shark” obsession last year brought me weeks of happiness. But as my family seemed to be thriving here in Lake Starlight, my dream was on its deathbed back in LA.
The twenty dollars in my pocket wasn’t going to help me make rent. Savannah and Austin helped the first year, but after that, I was on my own.
Once the eviction notice landed on my door and my bank account went negative, I used the credit card they’d given me for emergencies to purchase a one-way ticket back home.
I live rent-free with Denver and Cleo at Savannah’s. I hop from job to job, each of my family members taking a chance on me when all I really want to do with my life is become a famous singer.
“Phoenix,” Sedona whispers, and I reluctantly turn the iPad back my way. “I’m coming home after I graduate. I promise.”
I nod. I miss my twin like crazy, but she’s not going to ruin her future because I lack one. “No, you’re not. You’re going to move in with Jamison.”
A small smile lands on her lips and she stares at me so hard, I wiggle in my chair. “You know it’s going to happen, right? One day, whether it’s tomorrow or five years from now.
“You’re meant to be a singer.”
The rest of my family has decided I tried and failed at a singing career, so their belief is that I need to fall in line with a boring job. Not Sedona though.
“Move in with us. New York needs singers too. I know you’re all about the pop star idols, but there are a lot of options here too.”
I chew on my fingernail. She’s been making the offer ever since I returned home, but it’s hard to put yourself out there again when the chance to fail outweighs the chance to succeed.
And I’m not going to mooch off my sister who hasn’t even graduated from college yet. I already feel bad enough mooching off my older, successful sister.
“Hey, Sedona. See you in two weeks!” Juno hands me my cake. “I’m going to book us a Broadway show.”
“Oh, okay!” Sedona says.
Only a few of us are going to New York for her graduation. And thanks to our moneybags brother-in-law, Wyatt, and his Whitmore status, we get to take a private plane there and back.
“Mean Girls is playing,” Sedona says.
Juno’s eyes light up. Great. Another expense I’ll need money for.
“Which side of the cake did this piece come from?” I ask.
Juno looks at me, her forehead wrinkled. “What does it matter?”
“I just need to know.”
“I don’t know. Are you allergic to the right side of the cake now?” Juno shakes her head at Sedona, who rolls her eyes.
“It’s gonna be so much fun.” Sedona names everything we can do and talks about how much she needs to have fun now that Jamison travels for soccer so much.
Then Denver’s conversation with Kingston becomes my focus as they move closer.
“Griffin Thorne, the music producer?” Denver says as if Kingston is an idiot for not knowing who he’s talking about. He kinda is. “Remember when my plane went down?”
Kingston nods, picking up his second piece of cake. Little does he know what surprises might be waiting for him in that layer of frosting.
“He’s moving up here. Just built a house, and he’s looking for a nanny. Anyone you went to school with still around who you think might be good?” Denver asks.
After Denver told me about Griffin Thorne’s nanny-seeking at Cleo’s birthday last week, I tried to find the agency he was using, but no one gives out client information.
Apparently, there’s some sort of privacy concern with stuff like that.
Using the few connections I still have from high school, I found the house he built, but after stalking it for four nights in a row, there was no sign of him.
“Are you listening to me?” Sedona asks.
Without asking Denver point-blank for Griffin’s number, I’ll never find a way to reach him.
And if I ask Denver, he’ll probably give Griffin a picture of me and say, “If you see this girl, call the police.” He’s so worried I’m going to embarrass him.
“I could be a nanny, right?” I ask Sedona.
“Do you like kids?”
I look at Dion with green frosting all around his face and his hands in his hair. I cringe. Harley approaches him with a wet nap, and he runs, smearing the frosting along the wall of their new house.
Maybe boys are more work.
Calista has her baby doll and is pushing her around in a stroller, constantly stopping to fix the blanket or feed her a bottle. She’s sweet.
Then she takes a pillow from the couch and shoves it under her shirt, patting her stomach as though she’s pregnant. The whole room laughs, and she cries.
Okay, this isn’t a good sign. I’m no good at keeping a kid clean or dealing with their emotional pitfalls. But sweet Phoebe is sleeping in her wrap, nuzzled into Rome’s chest. So content and quiet.
I could handle her.
“Yeah, sure. I like them enough,” I finally answer Sedona.
“They pick their noses and eat their boogers.
“They have meltdowns for no reason, and if you think that cute baby in Rome’s arms doesn’t wake up every night wanting to be changed, feed, or soothed, you’re wrong. It’s work.”
Sedona knows me the best out of everyone in this family, so I’m not too happy about her pinning my exact thoughts of the scenario in front of me.
And who knows, maybe Griffin Thorne’s kid is one of those gifted ones. He could be super smart and only want to play with his science kit in his room or something.
I could nanny a kid like that no problem.
Now I just have to figure out a way to bump into him.
“I know it’s work, but I’m out of options. Plus, did you hear what Denver said? Griffin Thorne, the big music producer, is looking for a nanny.”
Her face pales and she shakes her head. “Don’t do it. This is not going to turn out well.”
“How can I accidentally-on-purpose run into him?” I ignore her objection.
She’s used to it after twenty-two years. “Go somewhere kids hang out. Parks, ice cream shops, zoos.”
I love Sedona. “I’ll look creepy if I’m at the park by myself.”
“Hence the bad idea thing.”
“Okay, guys.” Rome claps, and everyone quiets down. “Harley and I are finally ready to go get married, but we need some amazing aunts and uncles to babysit for us while we’re away.
“Who’s up for some quality time with their nieces and nephew? It’ll be short since I have the restaurant, so a long weekend or five days, tops.”
“Don’t do it, Phoenix.” Sedona’s teeth look as if they’re wired shut as she speaks.
I raise my hand. “I’m in.”
Sedona sighs.
Everyone looks at me as if they’re waiting for me to say I’m joking, then Rome looks around with a plea in his eyes for someone else to volunteer.
“Come on.” I stand. “I can handle three kids.”
“Maybe we can spread out the responsibility,” Holly says. “We have to work during the day, but Austin and I can do nights.”
“This is ridiculous,” I mumble.
“Phoenix, turn up the volume for me,” Sedona says. I put the volume to the highest it can go on the iPad. “Listen, guys, give Phoenix a shot. She deserves it, and her nieces and nephew love her.
“She’ll be fine.”
As if we choreographed it ahead of time, my sweet niece runs over to me and raises her arms to be picked up, which I do.
Harley looks at Rome, and he nods. “Okay, Phoenix, you’ll have days, but I’m telling you right now, you better answer the phone when I call, and I want pictures of my kids every day.”
“Deal.”
I give Sedona a look of appreciation and she smiles back at me.
Obstacle one figured out. Now I have to run into Griffin Thorne so he can see what a perfect fit I’d be as a nanny. Which shouldn’t be too hard. Lake Starlight isn’t very big.
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2
Maverick sits in the back of the brand new SUV we drove off the lot an hour ago.
Our stuff won’t be here for two weeks, so I grabbed us a suite at Glacier Point which seems to be the best resort close to town.
“‘Welcome to Lake Starlight. Your new home, you just don’t know it yet,’” Maverick reads the welcome sign to our new town with contempt.
He’s less than thrilled about this abrupt change in his life. I did spring it on him at the last minute, but sometimes when you hit a breaking point, drastic measures need to be taken.
My gaze veers to my laptop bag on the passenger seat. It holds the magazine with the article that opened my eyes wide. A sellout? I’m not a fucking sellout.
“Turn this up, Dad,” Maverick says.
I groan, hearing Tyler Vaughn’s voice through my speakers. Maverick sings along to the mediocre lyrics that hold no emotion or truth.
Back in the day, a song brought an artist healing, it meant something. There was a rawness in the lyrics you felt bone deep.
But what do you expect when you try to turn a YouTube sensation into a star?
There might be a total of ten different words in Tyler’s entire song. And I’m ashamed to admit my name is attached to it.
The last time Maverick looked at me like I was his idol was when I introduced him to Tyler. How pathetic of a father am I?
I haven’t even taught my son the true power music holds when it speaks to your soul.
They say there are artists who change your career. Tyler Vaughn changed mine, but not for the better.
He took a song I hated and released it with my name attached to it, then he stole the other song we hadn’t finished, put it out, and didn’t give me credit.
I could’ve stayed in LA. The list of artists who want me to produce their albums is long enough for me to bounce back from a shit article some post-grad who learned how to master a thesaurus wrote.
I’d come back bigger and better. But that article hit more than my ego. It was a wake-up call for me to question what direction I was taking my career.
I tune out the song, soaking in the new town I’ve visited a few times over the years. Maverick hasn’t spent much time downtown, so I park along the curb in front of a bakery.
Surely something sweet will cheer him up.
“Why are we stopping?” he asks.
“I want to show you downtown.” I turn off the ignition and Tyler Vaughn’s voice cuts off. A smile creases my lips as I exit the truck.
“Do we have to?” Maverick whines.
I open his door and shut my own. “Come on. You need to see where we’re going to live now, soak up the culture and people.”
“What’s next? You gonna have me sit on a log and wait for a moose to stroll by?” He unclips his seat belt and shoves his phone into his pocket.
“Come on. Have an open mind.”
“Mom said this is just a phase for you.” He jumps off the running board to the ground and looks around. “It’s cold.” He pulls his arms into his body through the sleeves of his shirt.
“I told you to put on a sweatshirt.”
“Back in LA, it’s eighty degrees.”
I rustle his hair. “We’re not in LA anymore, Toto. The faster you get used to this place, the happier you’ll be.”
“Mom said she’ll take me back to LA when she gets back.”
I nod but don’t respond. Maggie is as reliable as a politician’s campaign promises. She means well, and her love for Maverick isn’t a question. But her acting career comes first, plain and simple.
I can’t say much though, because until six months ago, my career came first too.
Unfortunately, Maverick is used to the two of us being somewhat absent parents and buying him whatever he wants to make him happy. That’s all changing now though.
When I push open the door to the bakery, a door chime rings out and a woman comes up to the counter from the back room.
“Whoa, look at all these, Maverick.” I motion toward the glass cases filled with sweet treats.
He looks unfazed by the rows of decorated cookies and cupcakes piled high with frosting in the display case.
“Welcome to Sweet Suga,” the woman says and waits patiently behind the case.
“Thank you. Look, they have cookies and cream.” I point.
“I don’t like cookies and cream,” Maverick says, stepping farther down the row. “Donuts?”
She smiles politely. “Sorry, I already sold out.”
“Sold out?” His face contorts into what I read as a “where the heck did you move me?” expression.
“I only make so many every morning and, not to brag, they go pretty fast,” she says.
“And you don’t make any more?” Maverick asks.
The woman is nice, her gaze flickering between Maverick and me. “I don’t. I run the bakery by myself most days, so I wake up early every morning and make what I can.
“If I made more, I’m not sure they’d sell out.”
I nod slowly. I understand. But Maverick cocks an eyebrow my way. He has no idea what it’s like to go without something. What it means to not waste money.
“Which ones go the fastest?” he asks.
“Well.” She contemplates his question for a second. “I’d say the everything donut.
“Which is funny because it’s all the different cake flavors mixed together—chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, orange, marble. Then it’s glazed.
“But once a month, we have a green tea donut that Wok For U features. That’s very popular as well.”
Maverick looks at me and I nod.
“We’ll be back for some tomorrow,” I tell the woman.
“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. Is there anything I can get you today?”
I look at Maverick. He peruses the bakery cases a little more seriously now.
I suspect that in his mind, a store that sells out of a product must be the best of the best and worth bragging about to his friends back in LA.
Just shows the long road we have to take to get him back to an average eight-year-old kid.
Maverick picks out the cookies and cream cupcake, and I don’t say anything. It’s better to leave it alone. He knows. I know. No need to draw attention to him purposely being difficult minutes earlier.
“Here you go. Remember, once I’m sold out, I’m sold out.” She smiles, handing the box to Maverick.
I place a five dollar bill on the counter and tell her to keep the change.
“I assume there’s no putting any aside?” I ask, because I really wasn’t thinking I had a wake-up call tomorrow morning in the form of a donut.
“I’m Greta.” She puts her hand out over the cash register, ignoring my question or answering it by not answering it, I guess.
“I’m—”
“Griffin Thorne. I know.”
I shake her hand. “Oh, you do?”
“Denver Bailey.” She raises her shoulders in a “you know how it is” gesture. “The whole saving your life thing.”
I nod. Of course. “Right.”
“I heard a rumor you were moving here, but I didn’t know anything about—”
I put my hand on Maverick’s back. “Maverick.”
“Maverick,” she says with a welcoming smile. “It’s very nice to meet you both. I think you’re going to love Lake Starlight.”
The door chimes behind us.
“Greta! Help. We need sugar before a meltdown occurs.”
I turn to find a woman who has a toddler boy by the hand, a baby attached to her chest in a carrier, and a little girl whose face is now plastered to the cookie case, her arms extended in a hug over the glass.
“Hi, Phoenix,” Greta says.
My gaze drifts back to the dark-haired woman. She’s attractive and young. Much younger than me.
And she looks exhausted, as if she’s in a wrestling ring and desperately stretching her arm out to her partner for a tap-out.
Her head turns in my direction. She blinks and her eyes widen. Quickly, she straightens the baby in the wrap. She squats next to the boy, licking her finger and wiping his face.
When that doesn’t work, she lifts the hem of her shirt, giving me a great glimpse of her bare stomach. Tattooed script runs along her ribcage, but even when I squint, I’m unable to read it.
“Cookies,” the oldest child sighs before kissing the glass.
“Calista, do you know how many people have touched that glass today?” the woman—Phoenix, I guess—asks.
“Excuse me,” Greta says and moves down the counter to the opening with two cookies in wax paper in her hands. “Calista. Dion.”
The little girl lets go of the case and grabs the cookie. “Thank you, Miss Greta.”
The boy pulls away from the young woman. She doesn’t look old enough to have three kids already.
“Hold on, Dion,” she says, sneaking looks at me. She probably recognizes me since Greta did too.
“No.” He pulls away from her, but she grabs the neck of his shirt.
Maverick and I stare at the scene as if they’re paid actors.
“Dion.” Her voice is strained through gritted teeth.
“Cookie!” He escapes and her weight shifts, tipping her backward. She clings to the baby strapped to her chest right before she falls on her ass.
She doesn’t get up. She sits there and stares at her son and daughter eating their cookies, chatting it up with Greta.
“Here.” I approach her and put out my hand.
She stares at me as if I just teleported into the bakery. With a deep inhale, she places her hand in mine and I gently pull her to her feet.
“Thank you,” she mumbles.
“You’re welcome. Are you okay? The baby?”
Her hands run up and down the baby’s back. “Oh, this one could sleep through a hurricane.”
“You’ve got your hands full. I’m Griffin, by the way.”
“Phoenix,” she says.
“What’s your name?” The young girl approaches Maverick with the boy in tow.
“Maverick,” he says, sitting in a chair because he can’t stand for more than five minutes at a time.
Turning away from the kids, I study the brunette. Could these be her kids? There’s no way she’s old enough.
“Are they all yours?” I ask. I’m desperate to find a nanny for Maverick, and so far, I’ve had no luck with Denver asking around for me.
I really wanted to avoid leaving Maverick with a stranger, but if this girl is the nanny and not the mom, maybe she works for an agency in town.
“God, no.” Before I can ask anything else, she says, “I mean, I’m the nanny.”
I nod. Perfect. “I thought you were a little young to be the mother of these three.”
Based on the small lines on her forehead, she’s insulted. “I’m not young. I mean, I’ve experienced life. I can drink and smoke if I choose to.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I glance at the kids when I hear a chair scrape across the floor. Maverick is on one side of the table, Calista on the other, and Dion is up on his knees, practically pressing his face to Maverick’s.
“Oh, you didn’t. I just meant, I’m not that young.”
“Gotcha.”
We stand in silence for a moment, our gazes shifting to the kids’ table again.
“So are you with a nanny service?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’m only asking because I had a buddy who was trying to find someone for me, but I’m getting down to the wire and I’m thinking I’ll have better luck with an agency instead.”
She blinks. “Well…” She glances at the kids again. “I can do it.”
I rock back on my heels. Her eyes have dark circles under them. She looks worn down. Maverick can wipe his own butt, but he can be a pain in the ass attitude-wise.
“I think you’ve already got your hands full.”
She looks at the baby in her arms and jolts. “Oh no. I mean, their parents are coming home in two days. Then I’m done.”
I nod. “So you’re free for overnights?”
Her tongue slides across her bottom lip and her gaze dips down my body.
Shit. That made me sound like a pervert. “I mean, if I needed you.”
“Definitely. Overnights are no problem.”
“Great. Can I send you an application, and then I can do a background check…”
Her face pales as I keep talking about the steps I take to make sure I’m not hiring some random criminal with a record. When the door chimes, we both turn toward the entry.
“Yay!” Calista runs over, and the woman standing at the door swoops her up in her arms.
“Hey, kiddo,” the woman says.
“Can I have your phone?” Calista asks in a sweet voice.
“Rotten to the Core” from thatDescendants movie plays, and the little girl dances.
And yeah, I only know that because a friend of mine helped produce the music in that movie.
“How was today? I came right from school. Austin’s got baseball…” The woman finally catches on to my presence and stops talking. “Oh… hi.”
“Hi. I’m Griffin.” I extend my hand.
The woman looks at Phoenix and back at me. “Hi. Holly Ba—”
“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Phoenix asks. She snatches the woman by the arm and drags her down the hallway toward the bathrooms.
“Hey, Holly, I made some dog treats for Myles and Daisy.” Greta’s words are left unanswered as the women are now gone.
Maverick stares at the little girl dancing around the bakery. I think maybe it’s about time I hightail it out of here.
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