Billionaire Club Series - Romantic Comedy Bundle

The Billionaire Club is where billionaires...meet feisty heroines.

Will they discover that the best things in life aren’t things, or will it be business as usual?

Three full-length romantic comedy novels.

• 1: His Billionaire Whisperer: He's clueless. She's a pro. Can they fake it till he makes it? 

A case of mistaken identity throws a sassy out-of-work assistant and a clueless billionaire into an unusual business arrangement.

• 2. Her Billionaire Hustle: She's broke. He's loaded. When the hustler gets hustled is it a recipe for romance or ruin?

Can Corinna follow through with her scheme to snatch a billionaire bachelor when real hearts are on the line, or will the cost of manipulating reality and romance be too expensive—even for her.

• 3. His Billionaire Rebound: He's sworn off love. She's focused on her big break. Can an ill-timed romance last? 

Will the sexy Aussie billionaire tempt the Midwestern good-girl away from the bright lights of stardom, or is she set on taking center stage? In Hollywood, where wishing on a star can make you one, dreams do come true, but not always how you imagine.


Each novel picks up where the last left off…with the person that got dumped, and their quest for happily-ever-after.

• BONUS! His Billionaire Secret - a forced proximity, opposites attract novella.
  
  Get it now.
  
  HEA guaranteed.

Brynn watched as the mourners stepped forward to place a shell pink rose over the casket. She admired the play of the light pink against the dark walnut of the wood. It had been her suggestion, and it looked stunning. After saying their final goodbye, the mourners drifted down the hill to waiting town cars and limousines. 

"You were invaluable to her," Ian said, as he stepped away from the grave. He placed one hand on Brynn's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "This would have made Mom so happy."

Brynn smiled and glanced one final time at the casket. Its gold handles glinted in the sun. "I better get back to the house," she said, and turned abruptly. 

During the entire ceremony, her mind was racing with final preparations and details. She had wanted to stay and oversee everything at the house, but Ian wouldn't hear of it. He insisted she attend his mother's funeral. The Sinclairs weren't old money, but they certainly had enough to give the illusion of it. Cy Sinclair made a fortune in Los Angeles real estate in the seventies, and kept at it for the next three decades, thus insuring his wife and children lived within the "bubble" only a largesse of riches can afford. Now both Cy and Lorraine were deceased. What was she going to do? A tear that had nothing to do with sentiment slipped down Brynn's cheek as she pulled into the service entrance of the Beverly Hills house where she had worked for the last ten years. 

The catering truck was here, along with the wait staff, she observed, mentally checking items off her to-do list. Brynn pressed her shoulder against the driver's door and jiggled the handle. The door popped open, causing her to almost tumble out of her 2005 white sedan. She adjusted her black skirt and stepped onto the uneven brick pavers that lined the back entrance. Her stilettos wobbled on the craggy surface as she walked across the courtyard. 

Brynn entered the kitchen to find it bustling with activity. Dozens of salad plates were waiting to be served. She checked the time. 

"Marco, these need to be on the table now. Ian doesn't want the mourners loitering too long."

He glanced up from arranging the last of the Anjou pears and nodded. They had been working together long enough that he could read the subtext in her words. Ian wanted to get on with the reading of his mother's will. Frankly, Brynn just wanted the rest of the day to go smoothly. 

She jogged up the back stairs to the second floor, her heels sinking into the plush carpet, and dropped her jacket and purse in her office—a converted guest room. Stopping to check her makeup in the en suite bath, Brynn paused to wipe away the streak of mascara that had trailed down her cheek. Of all the days not to wear waterproof, she thought, angrily. 

Ian was walking through the front door with his wife as Brynn directed the waiters. Mrs. Ian Sinclair gave Brynn a cold smile as she handed off her overcoat and purse to Stephens, the butler, before joining the mourners in the salon. 

There were five ten-person tables arranged in the massive foyer. Brynn walked around each, inspecting them for perfection. After all their years together, Brynn could usually anticipate Lorraine, aka Boss Lady's wishes as if she were reading her mind. The same shell pink roses from the services were displayed in crystal cut vases at the center of each table. As the servers finished placing the salads at each place setting, Brynn gave Stephens the nod, and he announced the luncheon. 

Once all the guests were seated, Brynn slipped away back up to her office. She paused at the door when she saw that Maria, the Sinclair's longtime cook, had left her a grilled cheese sandwich and some tea on her desk. Her eyes filled with tears. Maria was so kind. What was going to happen to all of them now? This was not the time to be sentimental, she thought. There was still work to be done. Brynn settled in at her desk overlooking the expansive front lawn and started sorting the mail. 

A soft knock at her office door startled her. She turned around, eyes blurry from cataloguing the funeral expenses into the spreadsheets. 

"Come in."

"Everyone but the family has gone. They're in Cy's study for the reading of the will," Stephens said. Brynn nodded. "The lawyer has requested all of the staff be in attendance."

They walked swiftly down the back stairs without saying a word. Both of them had worked for the Sinclairs for at least a decade. It was rumored they would be remembered in the will, but no one was exactly sure how. Brynn certainly had her fantasies. After all, she was with Boss Lady until her dying day. Brynn had endured all her tantrums and eccentricities for a decade, which was nine years and seven months longer than any other assistant had lasted. Brynn forced her mind to stop running wild scenarios as she and Stephens slipped into the back of the study to take their place with the rest of the staff. 

Once Mr. Reeves, the family lawyer, saw they were all present, he began to read Lorraine Sinclair's final wishes. Brynn stopped listening, it was like Boss Lady was in the room, and it was creepy, but her attention snapped back when she heard her name. Brynn hadn't expected to be first. 

"To my faithful assistant, Brynn Taylor, I leave my undying gratitude, and my treasured pair of Rocco candlesticks." Mr. Reeves paused to grasp the candlesticks, and waited for Brynn to come forward. 

Everyone in the back of the room looked horrified. If Brynn got candlesticks, what were they getting? She stumbled across the study, avoiding the family's gaze, and accepted the silver candlesticks. They were like anchors in her arms. She went back into the corner of the study and tried to keep her composure. 

Was this Boss Lady's idea of a joke? Lorraine had bought these candlesticks on Brynn's first day of work. At the time, Brynn had noticed they cost more than her yearly salary. To her they had always felt insulting, and she hated them. My worth has been summed up in two pieces of ornate silver, she thought, looking over the intricately monogramed pieces. 

Once the staff had received their trinkets, Mr. Reeves dismissed them in order to continue with the family portion of the will. They shuffled into the foyer. Knowing better than to speak within hearing distance of the family, they silently made their way to the kitchen, each clutching things they had no use for, or means of maintaining. 

"She was obviously off her rocker," Sam said. "What good is a vintage Rolls steering wheel without the car?" 

"You could sell it?" Marco offered. "I think we all deserve a drink." He set out six whiskey glasses and poured a generous amount in each.

"Oh no," Maria replied, pushing the drink aside. 

"Honey, she gave you some frying pans. If anyone deserves a drink, it's you."

Brynn kept quiet. She didn't like to disparage Boss Lady at work. Besides, she wasn't sure she could say anything without crying. It certainly seemed that Lorraine wasn't in her right mind when revising her will. Or perhaps she was exactly in her right mind. She had always seemed a little...off, but never spiteful or vindictive. Goes to show that you never really know anyone. 

"I thought you were going to make sure we all got taken care of. Like that Christmas we all got smartphones," Stephens hissed. 

"This was the one area she never included me," Brynn answered, taking the shot of whiskey. 

After another shot, she slunk upstairs to her office, carrying the offending pieces of silver one in each hand. She placed them on the table near the door and turned her back on them to resume the monthly expenses spreadsheet. Focusing on anything but the issue at hand had always helped Brynn get through tough situations. This was no different. For the next hour, she pushed past her anger and focused on settling the accounts. 

"They look lovely in here," a voice said, startling Brynn. Ian's wife, Silvia, was standing in the middle of her office. Figures she wouldn't knock, Brynn thought, turning to give her a tightlipped smile. 

"Can I do something for you?" Brynn asked. 

Sylvia stroked the tip of the silver candlestick before meeting Brynn's eyes. "Yes, I just wanted to let you know that your services are no longer needed. With Lorraine's death there's no need for her to have a personal assistant, is there?"

Brynn felt like the wind was knocked out of her. "But...the household still needs to be run," she stammered. 

"Oh, my assistant Lexie will be taking over."

"I see, and when will this be?"

"Oh, I expect her here in a few hours. Please let her in when she arrives and train her on the necessary procedures." She turned, stroked the candlestick one final time and exited. "Oh," she waved a piece of paper at Brynn, "your final check." Sylvia placed it on the entry table, next to the candlesticks, and disappeared down the hall. 

Brynn looked around the room trying to process that it was her last day here. She'd be damned if she was going to train anybody, and instead she slipped down the back stairs and into the courtyard. Sylvia was leaving the garage, and Brynn hid behind a potted palm until she had crossed the courtyard. Sam stepped out of the shadow of the open garage door and into the sunlight. Oh no. Not him too. 

She crossed to the garage. Sam wiped his cheek, and gave her a bright smile. 

"Hey, at least I have this," he said, chuckling as he held up the steering wheel Boss Lady had bequeathed him. 

"I can't believe she fired you, too," Brynn said. 

"I bet she's firing everyone. Always wanted to be queen of this castle and resented every single one of us for not bowing to her."

"Isn't that the truth. What reason did she give for letting you go?"

"They prefer to drive themselves. Never mind I've wrecked my elbow buffing out the scratches she put on these beauties," he said, pointing at the vintage Rolls.

Brynn gave Sam a hug and went in search of a box to pack up her office. A shadow of guilt hung over her. I really should have tried to get everyone good severance packages, or at least discussed what would happen to our jobs once Boss Lady died, she thought. It was done now. No use in dwelling, she decided, traipsing back upstairs, the corner of the large fruit crate bumping against her calf. 

A stream of weak winter light filtered through the sheer curtains creating an intricate pattern on the plush carpet. Ten years of work, and all she had to show for it was a pair of gaudy candlesticks. She glared at them across the office. They sparkled even in this dim light. What she wouldn't give to chuck them through the window. 

The clock in the hall chimed five times. That's it, she thought. It's over. She pushed back her black leather chair and scanned the desk and shelves one last time. Her figurines, affectionately known as the desk posse, were safely tucked inside the fruit crate. She paused by the entry table. After a few moments, Brynn reluctantly placed the offending candlesticks on top of her neatly folded cashmere throw before switching off the light. 

As she closed the door to her former office, Lexie galumphed down the hall. Brynn threw her a sharp look and turned down the back stairs. 

"Hey, wait up," Lexie shouted. 

"Honestly," Brynn huffed, pausing on the top step. "This isn't a playground. Keep your voice down, child." 

"You're supposed to show me how to do..." 

"Your new job?" Brynn finished. 

Lexie shrugged. 

"It's five o'clock, which is when my day ends, and since I've just been fired, it means I'm definitely not staying. You should have been here sooner."

"Sylvia was going over how she wants to redecorate,” Lexie explained. Brynn arched her eyebrow and adjusted the crate against her leg. "Aren't there, like, passwords and stuff you need to tell me?"

"Since it's all in Mrs. Sinclair's name, I'd say not. I'm sure their lawyer will transfer the necessary documents and set up new accounts. There is a file on the computer with all the scheduled maintenance and delivery appointments, assuming they will still be required."

"Oh. Okay. I guess personal assistant stuff can't be that complicated."

Brynn smirked. Oh child, you have no clue. "Good luck," she replied and retreated through the doors at the bottom of the stairs and into the delicious aroma of the kitchen. 

Maria rushed forward and placed a stack of plastic ware precariously on top of the overflowing crate. 

"For dinner," she said, teary-eyed. "All your favorites."

"You shouldn't have. I'm going to miss you so much, but I'm so happy Sylvia is keeping you on staff. She isn't a complete idiot after all.”

Maria patted Brynn’s hand and turned back to the stove. 

The uneven pavers threatened to send Brynn and her crate sprawling, but Sam rushed forward just as her heel slipped into a crack and caught her by the elbow. 

"Can't have you getting hurt," he said. 

"I know, now that I don't work here I don't think I could even get worker's comp."

"Any idea where you're gonna land?" he asked, setting the crate in her trunk. 

"None. You?"

"I think retirement is calling my name."

"That sounds lovely, can I do that too?"

"You're too young and bright to quit yet. You'll find someplace to thrive."

"Thanks for the confidence," she replied, giving Sam a big hug. They'd known each other for ten years. This was like saying goodbye to her Granddad. The tears started to prick behind her eyes. 

"See ya, Sam."

"Take care, baby girl."

As Brynn eased her car into the alley behind the mansion, she pulled up alongside the dumpster and put the car in park. Big wracking sobs shook her frame. What was she going to do now?

Download the bundle to find out what happens next!