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Want more broody billionaire baby-makers?
Can beauty tame her billionaire CEO?
This marriage was supposed to be another business deal. I need an heir. Which means I want her belly swollen with my child before the year is out.
She was supposed to be my perfect little bride. Quiet. Uncomplicated. Unemotional.
I didn’t foresee the stunning firecracker who tumbled into my life and woke the savage beast in me.
I didn’t plan on falling for this beauty.
Can you tame this beastly billionaire in this intense fake-marriage romance? Although this book is part of a series, it is a standalone novel with no cheating and a Happily Ever After.
Grab it on Amazon now!
Keep reading for an excerpt…
Excerpt of Mr. Blackwell’s Bride
I clambered into the limo, my skirt flouncing ungracefully around me before realizing, to my horror, there was someone already inside. I thought it was empty. It was not.
A broad-shouldered man in a dark three-piece suit sat facing me in the center of the wide leather seat, one arm outstretched across the back, a gold watch glinting on his wrist. This must be Mr. Blackwell.
“Well, this is certainly an attractive option.” His voice was deep and boomed around the cabin, resonating with power, causing a rush of goose pimples across my skin.
Was he calling me an attractive option? I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered. I mean, really, what did I expect from a man who “bought” his wife?
“I don’t care what Deloitte thinks. He’s not the one with his ass on the line.”
I frowned. Then spotted the small clip in one of his ears. He was talking on the phone.
The car door slammed shut, cutting out the wind and rest of the world. I was left alone with him—my husband—the silence between his words deafening.
I placed my bag beside me and leaned back in the seat as the limo pulled away. The seat was firm, the new leather smell still clinging to the overly air-conditioned air. The rest of the interior was wood paneling and chrome.
Outside, through the heavily tinted windows, street lights rolled by as we passed out of the airport. He continued to talk on the phone, his voice animated. I had time to study him.
He wore a tailored suit, open at the jacket to reveal a dark gray shirt underneath with a matching silver tie. I didn’t know clothing brands well, but I could tell it was tailored, clinging to his wide shoulders. He had midnight hair that appeared disheveled, as if he’d run his hand through it a few times, a wide jaw that kept clenching in the pauses between his sentences. His cocoa eyes were hooded, deep-set. He stared right at me, a slight smirk pulling at his perfectly sculpted lips.
I was taught never to stare back; especially to a man I should be showing respect. I’d never been one for conforming. Besides, I couldn’t seem to help it. He was mesmerizing, dark power rolling off him. This was a man who knew what he wanted and would not take no for an answer. This was a man who demanded the world and always got it.
As I watched him watching me, something foreign pricked at my lower belly.
“Call Mike. Ask him where that damn preliminary report for the Forrest takeover is. If he doesn’t have it ready, fire him.”
I frowned. We’d been driving for at least twenty minutes now. Was he going to talk on the phone the whole damn time?
I crossed my arms over my chest. His eyes dropped blatantly and unapologetically to my breasts. Small yet perky, they were being pushed together by my crossed arms. Something flashed in his eyes. My chest tingled at his heavy assessment. I wanted to uncross my arms but I was paralyzed, like he’d somehow pinned me with his stare.
“I don’t give a shit. It was supposed to be on my desk by the end of last fucking week.”
His cursing caused me to flinch. I’d never heard such blatant swearing. So foul. So rude. The prickling in my stomach turned…warm. Liquid. How strange.
His eyes snapped back up to my face, his voice growing more aggressive at the unknown person on the other end of the line.
I wanted to snatch that stupid earpiece from his head.
Instead I pressed my lips together, tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at him. I knew I shouldn’t be displaying my disapproval—this was not the action of a good wife—but dammit I was jet-lagged, I hadn’t slept for almost twenty-four hours, and I’d ripped myself from my family and married a stranger who lived on the other side of the world. It might as well have been another planet.
I felt like I might cry. I didn’t want to. Especially not in front of him.
Instead I channeled all of this flurry of emotion into my glare.
“Roger, I’m going to have to call you back.” Without waiting a beat, he ripped the earpiece from his ear and tossed it onto the seat beside him.
His eyes assessed me, his perfect lips pulling into a half smile. I was sure my hair was a mess and I had bags under my eyes, but he seemed pleased with what he saw.
“Noriko.” His voice moving across my name was seductive like bassy jazz.
“Mr. Blackwell, I presume,” I replied in English.
“Please, call me Drake.”
“Drake,” I repeated
