Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancee by Julia Kent
Publisher: Amazon Digital (2/26/2015)
Series: Shopping for a Billionaire, book 6
Genres: Comedy, New Adult, Romance
Genres: Comedy, New Adult, Romance
All of our best dates end up in the emergency room….
I planned the perfect proposal. Plenty of lobster, caviar, champagne and–her favorite–tiramisu. The perfect setting. The perfect woman. The perfect everything.
Dad gave me my late mother’s engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore. Shannon wouldn’t care if I slid a giant hard-candy ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond designed to impress. But my future mother-in-law, Marie, will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, which will give us two minutes of blessed silence. That woman talks more than Kim Kardashian flashes her naked backside on the internet.
I was going to make it perfect, from the color of the tablecloth to the freshness of the roses. And it was perfect.
Until Shannon swallowed the ring.
* * *
{ excerpt } .
Shannon
has no idea how many layers of beauty she has. And that’s exactly why she’s so
exquisite.
When
I was sixteen, the year before my mother died, Mom took me and my little
brother, Andrew, to New York City for a long weekend. Pulled us out of school
over the objections of the headmaster at our academy. Mom didn’t care. We spent
three nights at the Waldorf Astoria, skated at Rockefeller Center, had the best
seats at the top Broadway musicals, and dined on the finest footlongs you could
get for $3. Loaded with mustard and sauerkraut, plus a cream soda or two.
(Do
you have something against footlongs? Too bad. Two teenagers can only handle so
much caviar and lobster.)
What
I remember most about that trip, and what Shannon reminds me of every moment I
look at her, was our trip to the Museum of Modern Art. Mom insisted we go, and
Andrew and I rolled our eyes like sets of dice at a craps table.
And
then.
And
then I got it, right there in front of a Vincent van Gogh masterpiece.
In art history class we’d covered this painting in detail. We were taught the
biography of Van Gogh, how he came to create the series of paintings, his
motivation, and his flaws. We’d dissected the meaning so thoroughly that I felt
like I could recreate the art by automation, our elite prep-school instruction
clinical and impeccable.
Standing
in front of the painting, a few feet away, with my eyes trailing the curve of
brush strokes, my mind taking in the nuance of color, my senses dazzled by the
sheer essence of the whole, I halted. Froze. Was completely in the painting’s
spell.
You
can study something in the abstract. Know it’s real somewhere out there in the
world, and understand intellectually that what you read in a book or what
you’re told by someone else is true.
You
have to stand in front of it and have it stare back at you, though, to really know
it.
That’s
how I feel when I look at Shannon. Every single time my eyes find her.
Shannon’s smile is warm and sweet, yet better every time she flashes it at me.
Her honey-colored hair shines in the sunlight but looks richer when it’s
tangled, in bed, highlighted by the moon and messed by me. Those warm
eyes see only me when we’re together. That luscious body craves my touch. My
hands. My...all of it.
When
I’m with her, the world is more nuanced. Deeper. Authentic. Real.
She’s
a work of art, one of a kind. And one I get to hold next to my body, tuck away
in my heart, and...grow old with.
I
have planned the perfect proposal. No footlongs and sauerkraut, unfortunately,
but plenty of lobster, caviar, champagne and—her favorite—tiramisu. (What is it
with women and tiramisu? It’s cream, cheese, sugar, cake and rum, not some
magic potion that generates mouth orgasms. My Y chromosome scratches its head
in confusion, but hey, if it’s her favorite...I give my woman what she wants.)
Dad
gave me Mom’s engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore, a monstrosity he’d
bought for her nearly four decades ago as his business took off. The ring is
designed to impress. I doubt Shannon would care if I slid a giant hard-candy
ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond.
And,
frankly, I don’t care, either. But the thought of my Shannon sharing
such an important part of my mother’s life makes my chest swell. Only
Shannon—and my mom—can do that. Only love can do that.
Plus,
Marie will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, and that will give us two
minutes of blessed silence. That woman talks more than Kim Kardashian flashes
her naked ass on the internet.
“It’s
not as if your brothers are planning to tie themselves down to one woman any
time soon, if ever,” Dad had said when he gave it to me. He’s about as
sentimental as a pet rock. After having it resized to fit my future fiancée, it
was ready to rest on yet another McCormick woman’s finger.
It
was going to be calculatedly perfect, down to the color of the tablecloth and
the freshness of the roses.
And
it was perfect.
Until
Shannon swallowed the ring.
{ in the words of Declan } .
Top
10 Most Embarrassing Moments Caused by Your Future Mother-in-law
10.
That time she banged a spoon against a wine glass to get you to kiss Shannon as
you went out for your first business meeting.
9.
When she invited you to the yoga class she taught and encouraged the old ladies
to pinch your ass.
8.
When she talked about her sex life.
7.
When she talked about her sex life.
6.
When she talked about her sex toys.
5.
Where was I? I just bleached my brain....
4.
The time she stormed into your father’s corporate offices and yelled at him for
blaming you for your mom’s death. And then your future-father-in-law showed up.
And then your dad and future father-in-law got into a brawl worthy of WWF
Wrestling.
3.
When she brought Shannon’s pet cat, Chuckles, to the mall when you were playing
Santa and made the cat wear reindeer antlers.
2.
That time she brought a camera crew to Shannon’s apartment and barged in on you
making love, cameras rolling.
1.
Come to think about it...every waking moment around her.
{ giveaway } .
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