Series & Title: Bachelor Auction, Book 4: A Millionaire at Midnight
Author: Naima Simone
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Newsletter
Publisher: Entangled Publishing: Indulgence
Release Date: February 13, 2017
Genre: Contemporary, Romance
Boston socialite Morgan Lett is having a run of bad luck. Her fiancé just dumped her for her stepsister, the charity foundation she’s given her life to is in danger of folding, and now, the gorgeous man she bid on and won at a masquerade bachelor auction turns out to be a cold-hearted jerk…and her new employer.
Millionaire Alexander Bishop needs the best wife money can buy. In order to inherit his family business, he must get engaged—fast. And Morgan, with her beauty and pedigree, is the perfect candidate. Her sharp tongue may drive him crazy, but she needs money to save the foundation she loves, and he needs a fiancée. It’s a flawless arrangement—no strings, no love. But soon she has him craving more, and cursing the platonic terms of their agreement.
Still, he won’t allow need—no matter how hot it burns—to threaten everything he’s built.
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“You can be such a bitch, Morgan,” Chrystal spat before trailing after her sister.
Meh. She’d been called worse. And two ducks in a bucket, fuck it. That had felt good.
Turning around, Morgan headed back for the ballroom. Funny. She no longer needed that fresh air—
She slammed into a wall, quickly shooting her hands up to prevent a face-plant into plaster. “Son of a—” she grumbled, but the gentle but firm grasp of fingers circling her upper arms and steadying her cut off the complaint. O-kay. Maybe not a wall. She blinked. Not unless the hotel’s décor included stark white dress shirts and black tuxedo jackets.
Slowly, she lifted her head. Black bowtie. Taut golden skin stretched over a strong neck. A clean-shaven jaw and chin that could’ve been carved out of granite. A shockingly carnal but stern mouth with a slightly fuller bottom lip that appeared as if a woman had just been nipping at it only moments earlier. A straight, arrogant slash of nose and equally patrician, sculpted cheekbones.
And… Oh God.
A pair of stunning, silvery-grey, thickly lashed eyes. Luminescent. The flowery word popped into her head, and though it seemed ridiculous to attach such purple prose to this man with his face of honed edges, cutting angles, almost harsh sensuality, she couldn’t banish it.
Crazy how a lovely, grey gaze glinting with…with…
Icy contempt dispelled any lingering warmth inside her with an arctic blast.
Well, damn, all she’d done was bump into him. But he stared at her as if she were a flea-bitten stray that had strutted up to him and pissed on his tuxedo pants leg.
“Excuse me,” she apologized, stepping back and out of his hold. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s fine.” His hands fell away from her as if he couldn’t abide one more moment touching her. Still…she fought not to close her eyes. God, she could roll around in that voice like bikini-clad strippers in a batch of fresh mud. Just coat herself in it. Even the concise, clipped tone couldn’t tarnish the deep, dark timbre. “You were…preoccupied,” he added, the same disdain that hardened his stare coloring his words. His flinty gaze flicked over her shoulder in the direction the Terrible Twosome had disappeared before resting on her again.
The last part of her conversation drifted back to her. “…this city is full of CEOs and millionaires. Where there’s one, there’s another, and most are ready and willing to get laid.” She smothered a cringe. Damn. That had probably sounded awful. Can you say “gold digger”?
Usually, she wouldn’t have cared about explaining herself, but for some reason, she wanted to melt the ice in those silver eyes. That same elusive logic had her longing to see a smile curving those sensual lips.
“I think you may have misconstrued what you might’ve overheard…”
A dark eyebrow arched high. “I doubt it.”
Surprise at the abrupt interruption winged through her. What the hell… Irritation—no anger—surged hot and heavy inside her. Whether it was at him for his arrogant contempt or at herself for giving a damn about his opinion of her, she couldn’t say. Yeah, she could. Screw him and the high horse he rode in on. He didn’t know her… No one knew her.
She grinned, and at the same time, treated him to a cool, withering gaze that she’d learned to perfect right along with her knowledge of which dinner fork to use.
“Oh good.” She sighed. “For a second there, I was afraid you might believe I was only after a man’s money.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “When the truth is I want his money and ovary-exploding orgasms. Those two together are so hard to find, you know what I mean?”
Patting his shoulder, she stepped to the side and continued toward the ballroom.
Naima’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey and Linda Howard many years ago. Though her first attempt at writing a romance novel at 11 never saw the light of day, her love of romance and writing has endured. Now, she spends her time creating stories of unique men and women who experience the dizzying heights of passion and the tender heat of love.
She is the wife to Superman – or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent – and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.