The bundle contains:

‧ My Billionaire Trilogy by M.J. Bradley

‧ The Billionaire Bargain Trilogy by Melody Sanders

MY BILLIONAIRE TRILOGY

He was tall with long, black hair. He wore a suit, and he wore it well – it was tight-fitting and hugged his lithe body. He was talking heatedly with another man in a suit near a door marked “employees only.” As Molly watched he laughed and patted the other man on the shoulder, and then turned and made to walk away – but then he caught her eye. She suppressed a squeal – she didn’t know why, but she would have squealed if she hadn’t made the conscious effort to stop it – and looked away.

She felt more than heard his presence behind her, and her whole body froze. She felt like a shadow had just descended on the entire aisle. Who was this man and why was he standing behind her? She suppressed the urge to turn around. She didn’t know why but the idea of turning around was terrifying to her. Well, she did know why – he was incredibly attractive and he was close to her. She wasn’t very good with attractive men. She wasn’t very good with men in general. Finally she heard him – heavy breathing, in and out, slow, rugged breaths.

THE BILLIONAIRE BARGAIN TRILOGY

An urgent flashing of the house lights beckoned the audience back to their seats for the Second Act. Vicki had spent the intermission backstage, chatting with two of her favorite singers who would soon grace the stage once more as the booming baritone Magnifico and his daughter Angelina, a dazzling soprano whose career had reached new heights during these ten, high-profile New York performances.

Vicki couldn’t conceal her delight at the absolutely full house. “I guess the new marketing firm really hit one out of the park,” she commented quietly to Martin as the lights dimmed. “All ten performances are sold out!”

Her lawyer friend smiled. “It’s the inspired leadership they’ve been getting,” he replied. “New blood, new ideas. It’s just magnificent.” The maestro appeared at the edge of the orchestra pit and received enthusiastic applause. “Although even I would admit that Rossini’s genius might have something to do with it,” Martin said, raising his voice over the audience’s appreciation. “Still, you’ve broken the glass ceiling yet again, I would say. Bravo, Miss Vydra.”

“You’re too kind,” she said, patting his hand as the strings stirred in a quiet but ominous tremolo, quickly ushering in a sudden and violent orchestral tutti, brassy and loud, which filled the huge auditorium with the dark ferocity of the storm it depicted. Vicki let the eruption pass through her, finding herself carried by its torrential force, allowing the moment to fill her with an awed respect for nature’s power. She knew that it could not last, and the audience was soon deposited kindly into the peaceful meadow of the storm’s passing. Horn calls signaled the all-clear and, as one can always expect from Rossini, the good humor and delicate, social fun-poking resumed.

WARNING: Readers must be 18+ due to mature themes and language.

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