Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Age Gap, Billionaire, Best Friend’s Brother romance set in Bitterroot Valley!
Connor
After an explosive night together, I thought I’d never see the gorgeous bookstore owner again.
We didn’t exchange names and numbers, and when I left her asleep the following morning, I didn’t intend to pursue her. I don’t have time for relationships nor entanglements.
I’m the CEO of Gallagher Hotels, and my life is spent traveling around the world, focusing on my business, not a small town in Montana. Even if my thoughts keep returning to the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.
It turns out, my mystery woman, Billie, is my sister’s best friend, and she’s suddenly everywhere I turn. She’s become my obsession and all I think about. She’s become the only thing that means more to me than running my empire. And I’m determined to have her.
Billie
Owning a bookstore in my hometown of Bitterroot Valley has been my lifelong dream since I was a little girl. The only thing that brings me more joy is my love of thrift stores and coffee.
And, maybe, the sexy Irishman with intense emerald-colored eyes that take my breath away. His charming accent, how he looks at me, and the way he spoils me with lavish gifts are just the icing on the cake. I’ve tried to stay away from him, but my resolve is slipping. Nothing is better than being in Connor’s arms and feeling like I’m the most important woman in his world. But being with a high-profile billionaire comes with a price. Can we withstand the storm headed our way, or are we destined to fall apart like delicate blooms in the wind?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
ALEX
Nothing sucked more than being the only underprivileged kid in an elite summer program full of spoiled, high-society rich boys who spent more on a haircut than my mom made in a month.
Nothing.
Unless, of course, everyone in the auditorium knew you were the one there thanks to a scholarship fund made possible by the generous donations of their parents, who not only paid the insane fees for them to attend but for my sorry self as well.
It seemed everyone knew I was the only kid who wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for their rich mommy and daddy’s need for a hefty tax write-off.
Yeah, that sucked more.
I could have turned down the scholarship, told the school and its wealthy donors where to stick their money, and turned my back on the prestigious NexGen Innovators Summer Program. I could have spent this summer after my junior year like I had the previous five before it—working the entrance kiosk at the Calum River State Park, handing out day passes to sunburned families and eager hikers.
The job was boring as hell, mind-numbing, really, but it gave me plenty of time to read in the booth between park visitors. So, I could have done that again, and I almost did. We sure as hell needed the money, but I’d swallowed my pride and accepted the slot at NGI along with the full summer scholarship—$20,000. Every student here had paid $20,000 for six weeks of college-level engineering and robotics instruction. I’d swallowed my pride and done the smart thing, even if it meant I’d be working a night job to make up for it. In the fall, when I started applying to colleges, I needed NGI on my application to secure a spot in a robotics engineering program. This was the final missing puzzle piece to ensure I got the future I wanted.
One that didn’t resemble my childhood.
No shitty rented house with broken appliances and a landlord who never answered his phone. No fifteen-year-old car that ran less than half the time. No stack of unpaid bills or a host of unheard voicemails from debt collectors.
I refused to live my adult life the same way I’d spent my childhood, and that meant I had to secure a decent-paying, stable job with growth potential. Given that I was already obsessed with technology and robotics and excelled in math, robotic engineering was a perfect fit.
So, there I was, surrounded by nepo babies in their pressed designer khaki pants and starched polo shirts, wearing my wrinkled donation bin’s finest. That’s right, I didn’t even wait for this fit to make it to the thrift store. I looted them right out of the bin.
I was classy like that.
“In five minutes, we are going to break off into our lab groups,” the program director said from the stage. He was an average-height man, probably in his fifties, with an awful graying combover and the beginnings of a gut testing the strength of his shirt’s buttons. He introduced himself as Dr. Doaks, an MIT professor who’d been leading this program for years.
“Your lab groups will become your robotics family for the next six weeks. The groups are labeled A through E for now.” He smirked, making the laugh lines around his eyes deepen. “Choosing new names once you congregate in your laboratory has become a tradition in the program. Anyway, you can find your assigned group in the folders you received when you checked in, along with your schedule. Lunch is daily from noon to one o’clock for all groups. Feel free to leave the campus to eat if you’d like. No one will check on or monitor your attendance. This is a taste of what it’s like to be in college. You are responsible for yourself. Each of you is paying a lot to be here, so we assume that means you want to learn from us.”
Someone snorted behind us. “Not every one of us,” some guy muttered. A chorus of whispered chuckles followed the statement before someone kicked my chair, nearly sending me to the floor. I grabbed the armrests to keep from flying out of my seat.
“Dude, what the hell?” the guy next to me—a real serious type with a bowtie and polished loafers—grumbled as he shifted farther away in his seat.
Great, I was already making friends. More laughter came from the row above. Fuck that shit. These pricks would learn fast that I might be poor, but I wasn’t anyone’s doormat. I whipped around and glared at the row behind me.
“What are you staring at, freeloader?” A guy with perfect teeth and a damn chin dimple leaned forward with a sneer. His dark hair didn’t move at all as his friend, a redheaded girl with too much makeup, slapped his arm.
“Kirk.” She giggled as she whacked him again. “Be nice.”