Pit Stop: Baby: Dirty DILFs Book 4 by Quinn Taryn

Author:Quinn, Taryn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainbow Rage Publishing
Published: 2018-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Babies needed a lot of stuff.

For someone who was newly unemployed—again—Baby Rama was overwhelming. Forget even the cost of things. The sheer amount of items needed to properly provide for a child was staggering.

How did people manage?

The kid would need pacifiers and special cups that didn’t spill and head supports and pillows to brace their floppy frames. Toys. Clothes.

A place to live.

Was my apartment big enough for us? It didn’t seem so, since it was scarcely big enough for me. I could dance in the living room and almost touch all four walls.

I had savings, thank God, and I suspected Gage wouldn’t skimp on helping out, but he’d probably be hitting the road soon. He’d indicated he wasn’t thinking about racing right now, but everyone needed a break sometimes. No matter what he’d said, he’d probably just temporarily hit the pause button on his life. It was in his blood too much for him to not go back.

Wasn’t it?

We’d have to work out visitation schedules and child support and so many other things.

At least not today.

Lord, there were so many kinds of diapers. How was a person supposed to know which to pick? I didn’t even know if I was having a girl or boy yet, but they had certain patterns for wetness and diapers suited for each.

The world of parenting was a vast, terrifying place, and I had no handbook.

While my sister and her girl crew were squealing over tiny shoes and sandals, I leaped upon my version of the Holy Grail.

What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

There was even a sign for it, right in the middle of a rack of many other frightening baby books.

That would be my savior. An easy, step by step guide that hopefully didn’t have too much scary terminology.

Some people were frightened of clowns or horror movies. Not me. I could watch just about anything with Macy without even hiding my eyes.

But sweet mercy, I still hadn’t recovered from hearing about something called a “mucus plug” from my cheerfully informative sister. Somehow she’d developed a feeling of Zen toward the birthing process.

I had not reached that place yet.

I might not ever get there, especially if I couldn’t find this fucking book.

“Where is it?” Sweat blurred into my eyes as I dug through the other books, tossing them to and fro, desperate to find one copy. I needed the latest version, in case there were new discoveries or something.

I wasn’t going to start my parenting adventure with an outdated copy. Maybe one before they even knew mucus plugs existed.

On the other hand, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

“There has to be one left. Just one.” I spun around and came face to face with Kelsey. Or face to breasts, because my sister was taller than me and her boobs were fairly ginormous right now.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re all sweaty and pale.” She held a hand to my forehead. “You feel hot. Oh jeez, I hope you don’t have that same virus little Star does.”

“Star sounds like a hooker’s name,” I snapped, backing up to get some air.

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