Title: The Billionaire Bargain
Author: Lila Monroe
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 22, 2015
Synopsis
Synopsis
Sexy Australian billionaire
Grant Devlin is ruining my life. He exercises shirtless in his office, is
notorious for his lunchtime nooners, he even yawns sexily. If I didn't need
this job so bad, I'd take his black Amex and tell him where to swipe it.
He doesn't even know I
exist, but why would he? He jets off to Paris with supermodels, I spend Friday
nights with Netflix and a chunk of Pepperidge Farm frozen cake—waiting for his
call. Because every time he crashes his yacht, or blows $500k on a single
roulette spin in Monte Carlo, I’m the PR girl who has to clean up his mess.
But this time, it’s going
to take more than just a fat charity donation. This time, the whole company is
on the line. He needs to show investors that he’s settling down, and Step #1 is
pretending to date a nice, stable girl until people forget about what happened
with the Playboy Bunnies backstage at the Oscars.
My plan is perfect, except
for one thing:
He picks me.
Excerpt
You might think I’m
exaggerating his attractiveness. I’m not. Picture a handsome
man. No, more handsome than that. Square that jawline, brush those
brown curls with gold, darken those blue eyes till they’re almost
black, deep sapphire pools made for mooning over. Deepen that
voice till it’s like dark chocolate, and thread it through
with a sexy chameleon accent—one second so crisp and upper
class it might almost be British, the second relaxing into long lazy vowels
that conjured up visions of him kicking back beers on a sunny Australian beach,
surfboard planted in the sand as he contemplated the rolling waves with a
practiced eye. Strip away any hint of fat over that lean,
muscular sailor’s physique; evenly tan his smooth skin until he’s a
bronzed Adonis.
For intrigue, add just
a few scars on his powerful arms—sometimes a wide-eyed young intern might ask
where he got them, and he’d flex his arms and tell a completely different story
than he had the last time, each more improbable than the last. And whether it
featured great white sharks, modern-day pirates, or a knife-throwing bet, that
wide-eyed intern would swoon right into those arms, disappear at the end of the
day into his limo, and moon around the office for a couple of weeks, constantly
checking their phones for texts that never came, until they quit or
until security had to boot them from the building for trying to ambush him
outside of his office with pleading love notes and recriminations.
But I’ve gotten
off-topic. Back to your mental picture of a handsome man. Now picture
that an entire team of crack tailors working night and day to create the
perfect suit, cut to hang just right on his body, tight across shoulders
you could build a house on and an ass that belonged in an underwear commercial.
Imagine the world’s greatest stylists converging upon him with mousse and
hairdryers until not a hair was out of place except the ones he intended to be,
each chestnut lock artfully tousled for maximum effect.
And then he smirks.
Now freeze that perfect,
sexy, infuriating bastard at that exact moment in time so that nothing
ever musses him or ruffles his feathers or causes a single blip on the horizon
of his life, and you’ve got Grant Devlin.
About The Author
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