I was on track for this when being assistant to gorgeous billionaire philanthropist Nate Sterling suddenly gets a whole lot more complicated. It’s a dream job…until he asks me to save him from a fur-bikini-wearing, totally psycho ex-girlfriend who is determined to win him at a charity bachelor auction.
All I have to do is outbid her at the auction. Easy, right? But nobody told me Nate and I had to go on an extravagant Las Vegas date afterward. Everything goes off as planned…until Nate and I wake up the next day, hung-over, wearing identical golden wedding bands and with no memory of what happened the night before.
Cue major hyperventilation.
But it’s okay. Nothing that a quick marriage dissolution can’t solve… Until the pregnancy test stick comes back with two pink lines.
Marrying My Billionaire Boss is a standalone romantic comedy with a sexy billionaire, his sassy assistant, a bachelor auction, a Vegas wedding and a surprise baby. Oh, and the most hilarious and sweet proposal scene ever. No cheating, no cliffhanger. Just lots of heat, heart and humor. Grab it today!
Excerpt
Nate
I hear the cuckoo clock in the living room go off seven times, and my whole body starts to tighten, like a dog that just knows it’s playtime.
The security monitor beeps on my phone, causing my heart to skip a beat. That’ll be Evie, walking into my Malibu home. Since she started as my assistant nine months ago, she’s never missed a day of work or been late even once. I exit the bathroom, nothing but a towel around my hips as she comes into my bedroom.
She’s tied her wavy golden hair loosely today, and I love the reddish color of her lipstick because her mouth looks so delectably delicious in that shade. Her pink dress flatters the soft swell of her breasts and the beautiful lines of her waist and hips. There isn’t even a hint of anything inappropriate or flirty about the outfit—alas. I’m parading around practically naked in front of her, but her gorgeous cornflower-blue eyes never stray below my chin.
A lesser man would be crushed.
But I’m Nate Fucking Sterling. And dammit, I know I look good. Women fawn over me. They think they’re so subtle, but they always cop a feel. Or at least a look.
Not Evie though. She’s immune. Don’t know why. She’s not blind, or a lesbian. I haven’t done anything to repulse her as far as I can tell. I’ve been working my ass off in the gym to gain more muscle around my biceps and chest and put more definition on my abs. But even with everything on full display, I don’t think she’s noticed.
“Good morning,” she says, walking into my gigantic closet.
“Morning.” I sit down at the edge of my bed to watch. Just because she doesn’t check me out do
esn’t mean I can’t check her out. Her ass looks amazing in that dress. Actually, her ass looks amazing in anything. It would look amazing in a potato sack four sizes too large.
“You have a visit at the Sterling Medical Center this morning on your way to the office, so how about something conservative?” She picks out a charcoal bespoke suit and a slim silver-blue tie, along with a pair of polished loafers.
“Yes, that’ll do nicely.” She has great taste. I wouldn’t let her pick my outfits otherwise, no matter how hot she was.
“Glad you approve, Mr. Sterling.”
Mr. Sterling. We’ve been working together closely for the best part of a year, and she still refuses to call me Nate. So I started to call her Ms. Parker, just to show her how silly it is to be so formal. Which turned out to be a huge tactical error, because she seems to actually enjoy being called Ms. Parker.
Okay, so she’s from the Midwest. It’s probably more traditional than here in L.A., but people there must call each other by their first names. Why else would you give them to your kids?
And she calls other people by their first names, even around the office. It’s just me who gets the Mister treatment. Do I look like I have a giant pole up my ass? I know I was born to money, but I try not to be a stuck-up douchewad. And based on how people treat me, I thought I was doing pretty well…until now.
But it’s too late to ask for an explanation without sounding weird. I’ve gone through a hundred different scenarios I could use to broach the topic, and they all sound stupid.
“I’ll get your breakfast started while you get dressed,” she says, walking out.
My bedroom feels empty and sort of sad without her in it. But apparently prepping my breakfast is also her job, even though I didn’t ask her to do it.
Honestly, I don’t need this much help in the morning. None of my assistants ever did this before. But when I first interviewed Evie, she acted like she’d do anything to work for me, and I decided to test her. Mainly because I’d had a string of shitty assistants who acted like they’d do anything required for the job, but then couldn’t even locate a paper bag to find their way out of.
So now her job includes coordinating my outfits in the morning and getting me breakfast.
When I’m done putting on the clothes she picked out, I go downstairs. The open floor plan gives it an airy feel, with glass walls facing the Pacific and its waves. And there’s one of those contemporary waterfalls in the sunken living room. But the most spectacular thing is Evie, standing in my ultra-modern kitchen, bright light around her like an angel’s halo. I even hear a faint strain of heavenly chorus.
She looks at me over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips. Air sticks hard in my throat, and my brain goes blank, mesmerized by her mere presence.
“I made you your favorite—a kale and protein smoothie with fresh berries.”