Eligible Billionaires by Maggie Marr
(Eligible Billionaires, #1-9)
Publication date: December 27th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance
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Praise for Can’t Buy Me Love:
“Marr delivers a great story, the thrill of romance, and sexylove scenes in this often delightful novel.”—Romantic Times Book Review
“Maggie Marr does it again! Can’t Buy Me Love is an entertaining hot and heavy high stakes Hollywood love story that’ll keep you turning the page! ”—Jenny Gardiner, #1 Kindle Best Selling Author, Sleeping With Ward Cleaver
“Sharp, sexy prose and a fast-paced plot make Maggie Marr’s Can’t Buy Me Love a very entertaining and steamy read! Romance readers will love this book! ”—Jane Porter, Best Selling Author, Flirting With Forty
“Readers will delight in Meg and Cole’s sexy, romantic and charming love story and will find themselves touched by the kind of passion and vulnerability it takes to bring these two ambitious people together for a lifetime.”—Marilyn Brant Author, A Summer in Europe
Can’t Buy Me Love (Eligible Billionaires Book One)
“Is
it always this hard?”
For Cole Jackson only one response answered
Meg’s question: Yes. Every conquest was the outcome of a
hard-fought battle, every win the results of a decimated other side,
every challenge more difficult than the last. Otherwise, what was the
point? With ease came softness and with softness a swift defeat.
Cole yanked at the knot of his cobalt blue tie,
tired of the daylong stranglehold. On the far side of his office
window, night sucked away the last light of day as the sweltering
orange sun surrendered to the Pacific. The streaks of pink, orange,
and fuchsia that decorated the sky failed to captivate Cole. He could
witness such displays of color on any horizon, in any city, on any
night—so why waste time with this sunset?
Cole reached for the crystal decanter stationed
on the bar in his office. His pour was generous and neat. Amber
liquid shimmered in the final rays of the sun. He sipped the bourbon.
Heat slid down his throat, but the liquor didn’t scorch him nearly
as much as the woman who, after a six-month absence, now stood in his
office.
“There are cell phone towers up and down the
entire California coastline and the one spot in Los Angeles where I
can’t get a signal is your office?”
Meg Parson’s voice was brighter and lighter
than the curves of her body would suggest. She shifted her weight and
her hip teased forward against her suit skirt. The outline of bone
against taut fabric taunted Cole with hints of lace panties. In a
careless moment his gaze roamed over her legs, caressed her skirt,
and brushed over the outline of her breasts.
Hunger for Meg clutched his belly and twisted
hard. Cole turned toward the ocean and the unwatched sunset—away
from Meg. Better to feign interest in the blossom of color on the
horizon than to indulge his desires to stare at his colleague and
former assistant.
“Hello? Hello?” Meg said into the phone.
In the window, Cole caught Meg’s reflection
as she flipped her long sable-colored hair over her right shoulder.
She tightened her jaw and closed her eyes.
His stomach clenched as Meg’s tongue caressed
her pout of a mouth. Cole took another slug of his drink, hopeful
that the liquid heat burning down his throat would distract him from
his desires.
No. Luck.
He set his jaw in opposition to his craving and
pulled his gaze away from Meg’s indelible imprint on the glass. He
didn’t need the reflection; her every sinew was seared into his
mind but Meg was off-limits.
In the three years she’d worked for him, Meg
made herself indispensable, and he had been fool enough to let her
become a necessity. She knew everything about him—from the way he
took his coffee down to his shoe size. She ran his business affairs
seamlessly. He leaned on her. Depended on her. Cole even began
to need her
and needing anyone was intolerable. To need a person was to appear
weak. Need allowed vulnerability to take root. Need was the end of
strength. No, to need Meg was completely unacceptable.
“Yes, hi. This is Meg Parson. I have Cole
Jackson for Stan Morton,” Meg said.
With the sound of his name on her lips he faced
her. This was a business deal, nothing more.
“Of course I’ll hold.” Meg covered the
mouthpiece and her blue eyes sparkled with the thrill of the deal.
“Why didn’t we use your landline?”
Cole’s heart quickened as Meg’s excitement
spilled over to him. Cole sipped his drink and watched Meg over the
top of his glass. This time, her proximity, and not the bourbon,
seared through him.
“They’re getting Stan,” Meg whispered,
still covering the mouthpiece.
Stan Morton owned one of the two things Cole
wanted most in the world: TBC Studios.
And the other thing?
Cole’s eyes traced the porcelain curve of
Meg’s neck as she twirled a piece of hair between her thumb and
pointer finger. Well, the other thing wasn’t for sale, nor was it
negotiable. Office dalliances weren’t Cole’s style and neither
was a long-term commitment. Meg was the type of woman who required he
break both rules, and Cole preferred his relationships exactly as
they’d been for the past decade: hot, fast, and disposable.
This deal was Meg’s baby, and once it was
consummated Cole would have to promote Meg. If he waited any longer
another company would swoop in and grab her. One of his competitors
might already be trying.
“How will you celebrate?” Cole rarely asked
Meg anything so personal. A dusty pink flush crept over Meg’s
ivory-colored cheeks.
Protectiveness surged through Cole.
“I’m thinking Bali.” A smile started in
Meg’s eyes and quickly encompassed her whole face as she thought
about a luxurious and well-deserved beach vacation.
“Nice choice.”
“And you?”
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