A Deal with the Bossy Devil (#1)
Vengeance (noun): Punishment served by an arrogant, insufferable billionaire who’s hellbent on making you suffer over a teeny, tiny, seven-hundred-million-dollar oopsie.
I regret nothing.
…
Okay, maybe I regret some things.
In my defense, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get caught.
Also in my defense, I had no way of knowing that “The Incident” would go viral.
But Toronto’s most notorious billionaire isn’t exactly known for his generous or understanding spirit, and he doesn’t want to hear my excuses.
Not when my little public stunt cost him the biggest investment deal of his career.
What he does want is cold, hard revenge.
And that’s how I find myself backed into a corner, forced to strike a deal with the snarly, green-eyed devil.
I have no choice but to be at his beck and call 24 hours a day, succumbing to his every bossy whim.
But as his demands—and the blistering tension—become increasingly unbearable, I can’t help but start to bite back.
Adrien Cloutier isn’t a man to be messed with, though.
And as the old saying goes, bad girls deserve to be punished.
“You’re staring again,” he said quietly, a smug smile tilting the side of his mediocre mouth.
Okay, you know what?
“You keep saying that like you’re not staring right back.”
&
“I want you. And the more I deny it, the worse it gets. I want to spoil you fucking rotten, Ria. I've become obsessed with the idea. I want to buy you pretty things, fuck you, praise you, play with you. I want to take you out on dates, I want to tell people you're mine for real. And you know what's fucked up? I've started to fucking fantasize about cuddling you. Literally just holding you in my arms all night. No fighting, no bickering. Is that enough for you, Sanchez? Or do you still need more of me?”
Failure To Match (#2)
He’s the arrogant, grumpy billionaire bane of my existence... and now I’m his full-time, live-in dating coach.
I’ve never failed to match a client—until him.
Jackson Sinclair has dragged me through eight months of matchmaking hell, and I have the carnage of broken hearts to prove it.
But I refuse to get fired from my dream job because of some infuriatingly gorgeous billionaire and his absurd criteria for a wife.
The plan is simple.
All I have to do is infiltrate his penthouse, pretend to be his blind date, and figure out what the actual f*ck his actual f*cking problem is.
It’ll be fine. He doesn’t know what I look like.
Except I nearly drown in Satan-clair’s massive pool, he figures out who I am, and now I’m forcibly glued to his side for the next 30 days.
It’s a nightmare, until it’s not.
I hate him, until I discover everything he’s been hiding.
We fight, until the tension boils over into sizzling temptation.
Jackson Sinclair may not believe in soulmates, and he may not believe in love, but little does he know, he’s finally met his match…
“You want to know a little secret?” He still hadn’t dropped his hand.
“Only if it’s relevant to helping me find you a suitable match.” I had very little interest in learning anything about him otherwise. I swear his eyes were twinkling as they slid between mine, his smile jerking.
“I kind of like it when you’re mean to me.”
&
“You don’t like me,” I said firmly.
“Oh, but I do. I might even like like you.”
&
Shall we discuss just how spoiled you’d be as my wife? How I’d buy you diamonds just so I could fuck you in them?”
If he licked his lips one more time I was going to go into cardiac arrest.
“I’d make you the envy of every woman in the world, Jamie, even if it was against your will. And with a clit that sweet… the ways I would torture you. You’d look so fucking pretty all tied up for me, blushing and begging for mercy with all those diamonds wrapped around your neck. I’d ruin you.”
&
“I’m tempted to take you to my office, lock the door, and make you get on your knees for me.” His fingers dug into my flesh with promise. “I want you sucking me off before your date, and I want you swallowing every last fucking drop so if he tries to kiss you, you can let him know exactly what he’ll be tasting.”
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