In A Girl Named Joy, Joy battles deep feelings of inadequacy, driven by rejection from her parents. She crosses paths with Xavier, Harper’s cousin, and despite their mutual animosity, Xavier becomes Joy’s unexpected love interest. As they navigate their complicated emotions, a tragic accident forces Joy to re-evaluate what truly matters. This emotionally charged second installment of The Girl Series explores love, self-worth, and the unexpected connections that shape our lives.
In A Girl Named Joy, Joy battles deep feelings of inadequacy, driven by rejection from her parents. She crosses paths with Xavier, Harper’s cousin, and despite their mutual animosity, Xavier becomes Joy’s unexpected love interest. As they navigate their complicated emotions, a tragic accident forces Joy to re-evaluate what truly matters. This emotionally charged second installment of The Girl Series explores love, self-worth, and the unexpected connections that shape our lives.
BOOK TWO IN THE A GIRL SERIES
a girl named Joy
K A R A J E F F ER I E S
Chapter One
My grandma left everything she owned to me, which
only exaggerated the tension between my mom and
me. For my mom, the hurt was twofold. First, my
grandma took me in as a child and raised me when my mom
didn’t want to. Second, leaving me everything was my grandmother’s
final act to ensure I was taken care of, so I wouldn’t
need any help from my mom or from anyone for that matter,
even as an adult.
I intended to use her money to buy a house, but a week
before closing, I canceled the contract. Running away from
big decisions is a habit I may not be able to break.
I had the opportunity to receive a full-ride scholarship to
play soccer at a college up in northern California, but I turned
it down. What’s even worse than turning it down is the reason
behind my decision—a guy, of course. I wish I could say he was
the one who got away, but he wasn’t; he was the one who got
me pregnant and then ran away. Now, it’s me who’s running
again, running from another commitment. I only put an offer
on that house because that’s what everyone expected me to
do. Managing others’ exceptions is all I know. Kids like me
have to base our decisions on pleasing those around us. We
can’t disobey or test boundaries; if we do, we could end up
without anywhere to sleep. Buying a house with money left to
me was the responsible thing to do, but as the date got closer,
I realized my grandma didn’t leave me that money to tie me
down. She left it to me to set me free. So, that has been my
philosophy ever since: not to get tied down.
My phone rings in my hand, and the caller ID reads: My
Fave.
“Hey!” I answer.
“Meet me for a run?” Roxanne’s quiet voice comes through
the phone.
“Is that a demand or a request?”
“Both. You know where to meet.”
“Okay, it’ll take me about ten minutes to get there,” I concede
because it’s Roxy, and she doesn’t take no for an answer.
Roxanne and I have been best friends for at least fifteen
years. We played soccer together growing up (well, more
against each other), we run together, and we work together.
Which technically makes her a co-worker, but friends first.
When I get to our meeting spot, Roxy has been waiting for
me for a minute because her breathing isn’t labored at all.
“How long are we running today?” I ask, already out of
breath since she beat me here. She had an opportunity to catch
her breath, and well, obviously, I didn’t.
“Let’s do five miles,” she says, her long, brown ponytail
bouncing from left to right.
“Is that including the half mile I ran to get to you and the
half mile I’ll run once we separate?” I whine.
“Stop it… Let’s go.” She takes off in a full sprint.
“Hey,” I shout. “Wait up. Did you see my Instagram post
last night? It was pretty good?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she questions.
I live in a great apartment on the third floor, not far from
work. My west-facing balcony gives me a front-row seat to
the most amazing sunsets. I post sunset pictures almost every
night, and they’re taking over my social media footprint, which
is depressing and, I’m assuming, the basis for her question.
“I’m fine,” I insist.
“Are you sure because you haven’t been on a second date
since you and Gabe broke up?”
“And?” I question because one-word answers and replies
are all I can manage with our current pace.
“And you need to give guys a chance, a second date. Your
philosophy of not being tied down is exhausting at this point.”
“How long have you been holding that one in?” I ask, giving
her a side-eye.
“Come on, Joy, I’m on your side. It’s been several months
since you and Gabe broke things off; you need to put yourself
out there again.”
Gabe and I dated for about six months. We weren’t exclusive,
and we both had different reasons for not committing. His
reason was that I’d never be his forever, and mine was that
no one had ever wanted me, and I was afraid of committing
to someone and getting my heart broken.
“Earth to Joy,” Roxy says. “Where did you go to?”
“Can we walk for the last half-mile? I think I may die,” I
say as I lean forward with my hands on my knees, trying to
catch my breath so I can explain myself to Roxy.
“Listen, Rox. I’m not mad at Gabe, and I’m not avoiding
guys, but the guys you and Chris keep setting me up with
are unattractive and boring. I’m sorry. It’s just that Chris’s
standards are very different from mine.”
Chris, or Christopher, is Roxanne’s boyfriend. He’s older
than us by ten years and much different than anyone she’s
ever dated, and his friends are much different than any guy
she’s ever dated. I’m drawn to your stereotypical tall, dark,
and handsome – the type not searching for Ms. Right, but
rather Ms. Right Now. I’m not looking for love, just someone
to have fun with. However, Chris’s friends are fixated on
settling down, with conversation always leading to marriage
and children. I’ve never been asked about my five-year plan
more than when I am on a date with one of his friends.
“Gabe was honest from day one, and I was tired of replacing
batteries in my boyfriend.”
We laugh as I try to keep her pace. Even walking with this
girl kills me.
“I feel like you’ve buried yourself in work since you and
Gabe broke-up.”
“I have,” I answer. “But only because I’m bored.”
I’m a sales manager at a dealership. I don’t love the job, but
I do love the money. The schedule sucks too, but when you
don’t have a social life, does working a shitty work schedule
matter? All the family guys hate it because they miss Saturday
baseball, soccer, basketball… You name it, they miss it. I try
not to make that my issue, but being the people pleaser I am,
I often switch a weekday shift for a weekend, but not without
a coffee or free lunch. I mean, I’m not a total pushover.
I know how it feels not to have anyone cheering you on at a
game, and if I can save one child from feeling what I felt, I will.
“I just want to ensure the guys aren’t exploiting your
generosity.”
“Rox, all my decisions are intentional these days. If I want
a Saturday off, I’ll take it, but when you don’t have kids and
only have work, what is the difference between a Saturday and
a Tuesday—just a name? I don’t let guys at work guilt me into
extra shifts; I do it because I want to.”
“Okay, I just want to make sure you’re looking out for
yourself and not the guys at work.”
“I’ve got it under control. I’m good.”
“Did you go out with Landon from finance?” she asks,
changing the subject.
“No! I told you I’m not dating anyone from the dealership.”
Working in a male-dominated industry is interesting to say
the least. I get hit on by not only customers but co-workers
as well. One rule… DO NOT DATE COWORKERS. It never
ends well.
“Look what happened to Harper. I refuse to let that happen
to me,” I add.
Gabe (my ex-boyfriend in question) fell for a girl at work,
and everything blew up in his face. They ended up together
eventually, but not before she had to transfer to a different
dealership because they tortured each other for months. “I
get it,” Roxy says. “But not dating co-workers never made
sense; a co-worker shares the same drive as you and the same
education level. So, by default, isn’t that a better place to find a
partner than a bar?” She looks at me with a firm jaw; her eyes
are locked on mine, asking for me to validate her observation.
“I don’t know, but you know I don’t keep guys for long. And
the last thing I need is an ex-boyfriend at work. I’m just too
nice, and they lose interest, and around and around we go.”
Roxanne and I make it back to our meeting spot, but before
we go our separate ways, she asks, “Are you getting ready for
the run?”
“I already told you I’m not running a 5K, a half marathon,
a full marathon, or a triathlon. That’s your thing, not mine.”
She moans, “Ugh, you’re impossible. Call me when you make
it home, and make sure you run the rest of the way since we
walked a mile.”
“You’re mean,” I yell over my shoulder as I run the last half
mile home.
In my free time, I run, and it brings me peace. Being outside
running with AirPods makes me feel everything and nothing
simultaneously. Some days, I’m fully committed to the run,
determined to beat my last best time—music loud in my ears,
nothing in my head but the hill in front of me. Arms tight to
my body, one foot in front of the other until the run ends.
No quitting, no slowing down, mind over matter. Then there
are days I can’t keep a steady pace to save my life. My mind
wanders to all the corners of the world. What needs to be done
at work? What needs to be cleaned at home? Remember your
grandma, don’t let a day go by without thinking of her and
what she did for you.
My favorite run days are when the weather is perfect, and
I can hear the fountains over my music, and it’s breathtaking
enough to make me stop and appreciate the world around me.
Three minutes into the final stretch home, my AirPods
alert me that I have a new text from Roxanne. I run with a
backpack, large enough only for my phone. I usually wouldn’t
check my text messages, but since we just separated, I want
to make sure she’s okay. Trying not to slow my pace, I reach
around my back to grab my phone. When that doesn’t work,
I unhook the front strap and bring my pack forward. Looking
inside, I pull out my phone and run into what feels like a block
wall. I stop immediately and try to catch my breath.
I look up and see Xavier.
“Joy, is that you?” he asks.
“Xavier?” I say, shock evident in my voice. Xavier is the
cousin of Harper Atwood. Harper lived in my apartment
building, and she’s why my ex-boyfriend Gabe broke things
off with me.
Xavier and I met and talked a few times in passing when he
visited her, which was often. Xavier is a dream. He’s just over
six feet tall, with ocean-blue eyes and light-brown messy hair.
He’s muscular with olive-colored skin. Today, he is shirtless,
dripping in sweat, and still looks and smells fantastic. I can
see the outline of every one of his ab muscles. He’s perfection.
I’ve always noticed how cute he is, but I don’t think I’ve ever
seen how sexy this man is, probably because I’ve always been
afraid to make eye contact when he’s with Harper.
Yes, she’s that bad. She could teach a course on the perfect
resting bitch face. She says whatever is on her mind without
thinking how it will affect others around her. I run from
conflict; she runs to it like a moth to light. We couldn’t be any
more different. While I’m utterly lost, looking over Xavier’s
sculpted body, he pulls out one of my AirPods and says, “Shit,
Joy, are you okay?”
I try to reply, but par for the course, I stammer and only
manage to get out, “Umm yeah, I think so. Are you?”
He laughs and says, “I’m fine, but you ran into me with
your head down; I was able to prepare myself for the impact.”
Embarrassed, I say, “Oh yeah, I am so sorry.” Stammering
over my words again, I say, “My phone… and I was struggling…
Ugh, never mind.” I shake my head. Get it together, Joy. My
God, I sound like a love-struck pre-teen.
He frowns, saying, “You really need to look where you’re
running. You can get hit by a car, and you shouldn’t run with
both AirPods in.”
Did he just scold me? I wrinkle my nose, so he adds, “You
can’t hear someone coming from behind. Wearing both
AirPods makes you a target.”
His statement catches me off guard, but in a positive way,
making me perceive him as a possessive and protective man,
not just the cute guy who hangs out at my apartment building
with his mean cousin.
I mean Xavier barely knows me, and he’s advising me on
how to stay safe.
I smile, open my eyes wide, and say, “Thank you for the
advice. I never considered how dangerous wearing both
AirPods could be. I had no idea kidnapping was something
I needed to worry about in our small city.” The whole time,
suppressing a giggle.
“Joy, you’re too sweet for sarcasm,” he says, shaking his
head.
“Oh no, I’m not being sarcastic at all. You don’t think of
those things until it’s too late. It’s never an issue until it is.
I get your point, and I appreciate your concern?” The word
concern comes out as a question, and we pause for a minute,
making this literal run-in a thousand times more awkward
than it was just seconds ago.
I look down at my watch and say, “Well, I better get going
before my run app starts yelling at me like a mean gym coach.
Again, thanks for the advice; I promise to keep it in mind
moving forward.”
He nods in agreement. “Yeah, I have to get back as well.”
His concern is evident by his furrowed eyebrows, creating
two vertical wrinkles between them. He asks again, “Are
you sure you’re okay?” His expression is a mix of confusion
and lingering concern, a subtle indication that he is genuine.
“Yes, I’m fine. Again, I’m so sorry for running into you. I
almost feel like we should exchange insurance information.”
He laughs and says, “It was good to see you, Joy.”
I continue my run, but my mind is a million miles away,
replaying my run-in with Xavier and how he said, “It was
good to see you” over and over again.
In A Girl Named Joy, Kara Jeffries delivers an emotionally charged sequel in The Girl Series that explores themes of self-worth, love, and the often-painful journey of personal growth. Joy, the protagonist, grapples with deep feelings of inadequacy, exacerbated by her strained relationship with her mother and the emotional scars of past decisions. The arrival of Xavier, Harper’s cousin, provides a layer of complexity to Joy's life, as their animosity gradually shifts into an unexpected romance. As their emotional journey unfolds, a tragic accident forces Joy to confront the truths about herself and her relationships.
The strength of the narrative lies in its raw and honest depiction of Joy’s struggles. Her battle with her own identity, compounded by her efforts to meet external expectations, resonates with anyone who has ever faced rejection or felt overshadowed by their past. The twist involving Xavier adds an interesting dynamic to the plot, showcasing the unexpected nature of love and the complexity of human relationships. The themes of self-worth, independence, and personal liberation are woven throughout, offering readers an emotional experience that is both relatable and profound.
However, while the book presents a compelling character arc, some elements of the story may feel repetitive. Joy's continual running away from commitments could risk becoming monotonous, and at times, the pacing slows as the emotional weight of her decisions takes center stage. The tragedy that prompts Joy’s reevaluation of her life, while impactful, may feel somewhat predictable, as it follows a familiar emotional trajectory. Still, the narrative remains engaging, particularly for those who enjoy character-driven stories.
In terms of writing style, Kara Jeffries showcases a talent for creating vivid emotional landscapes. Her prose is accessible, with a focus on dialogue that enhances the realism of the characters’ interactions. The author excels in capturing the inner turmoil of Joy and her relationships, adding a layer of depth to the overall narrative. However, there are moments where the introspection could be balanced with more external action, as the story occasionally becomes too focused on Joy’s inner world. The prose is often reflective and contemplative, which works well for a novel centered on personal growth, though it can at times leave the plot feeling more static than dynamic.
In conclusion, A Girl Named Joy is an engaging and thought-provoking read that effectively tackles important themes of love, personal freedom, and self-acceptance. While some narrative choices may feel familiar or repetitive, the emotional depth and honesty in the character development make it a worthwhile read for those drawn to stories of personal transformation. The writing style supports the emotional weight of the story, though a bit more external action would have added further dimension to the plot. Fans of character-driven tales will likely find this novel both relatable and impactful.