The Marriage Bargain Marriage to a Billionaire A marriage in name only To save her family home impulsive bookstore owner Alexa Maria McKenzie casts a. The Marriage Bargain (Marriage to a Billionaire, #1), The Marriage Trap ( Marriage to a Billionaire, #2), The Marriage Mistake (Marriage to a Billionaire. Billionaire's Marriage Bargain book. Read 16 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Beware of BillionairesMarry Alex Megalos? Though t.
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Marriage to a Billionaire has 15 entries in the series. Common KnowledgeSeriesMarriage to a Billionaire The Book of Spells by Jennifer Probst, The Marriage Arrangement by Jennifer Probst, The exciting bestselling author who thrilled readers with The Marriage Bargain and The Marriage Trap, Jennifer Probst rounds out her sizzling trilogy with more.
Simply click here and the book will be sent to your inbox. Budget cuts went through. The trip is cancelled. May have to cut your hours too. Janel let the phone clatter to the table. Drizzling more syrup on her pancakes, Janel heard the girl in the booth across the aisle crying quietly.
Nick tapped his fingers on the desk. He pulled his chair closer to the desk. There was no use rehashing the mental debate that got him to this point. He pressed the intercom button on his phone and could hear the corresponding beep through the open door. He never yelled for his assistant, Brenda, even if the door was open.
It just felt rude. Brenda came in a moment later, with her ever-present SmartPad resting in the crook of her arm. Poised with her fingers over the keypad, she waited.
She finally tapped the screen. They expect gifts, and not little ones either. I just want someone I can rely on, someone real. There was no point revealing his desire for a family. For him, it was about putting up a wall between him and the women who thought he could be bought with long legs and a bright smile.
According to Pamela, Janel needed funding for her PhD. As far as reasons went for a short-term arranged marriage, that seemed like a good one.
How many people worked on campus for a tuition waver or applied for grants to support their academic endeavors? He could understand how Janel would see this as a viable way to fund her education. While the women who chased after him wanted a free ride, Janel was busy working her way through school.
If we want to continue the marriage as is, we can extend it or renegotiate the prenup. If not, we can get a divorce.
Brenda had been married for fifteen years and claimed they were the best years of her life. I hate the games, the cryptic text messages, and the constant emotional drain. The money chasers leave him alone, and his wife is a wonderful person. So, I decided to look into it. Nick paused. If she calls, let me know. If she comes in, I want to see her. If you do that, then the rest of the office will follow.
How did you meet? It would be best if we were on the same page. He needed a haircut. You should have time for a shave and a haircut before meeting your …?
Just start a little rumor. Nick rolled the tension out of his shoulders. How could one word hold so much promise and responsibility?
He liked it.
She was comfortable with her beauty. At least she had goals in life. He realized all that was behind him now, and felt free for the first time in years.
As she was an equal partner in this contract, though a wife who would share his home, Nick needed to keep a professional distance. If Janel was as beautiful in person as she was in the picture, staying professional could be difficult. He already felt a connection to her.
Hey, you can go ahead and finish that suite. His house had two suites on the east end. When he met with Pamela and she mentioned needing a room for his wife, he felt like the space was waiting for that exact moment.
It was going to be a busy weekend. There was a strange thunk under his desk. When he looked, he realized his leg was bouncing. Every time his shoe hit the floor it made a noise. Placing his hand on his knee to hold it still, he wondered, Am I nervous?
He was always a little on edge when signing contracts, but as long as his attorney gave the thumbs up, it was something he got through with a semblance of calm. This was a good move for him. Not only would it take him off the meat market, it would bring someone into his home. Someone to come home to—a wife—was going to be very good for him. If it was so good for him, why was his leg bouncing again?
Five Janel rolled over, checked the time on her cell phone, and groaned. Shopping day. As she made her bed, she found the copy of The Five Love Languages Tina had handed her yesterday on the way out the door. We like to use it as a tool to help couples express appreciation.
Instead, resurrecting her files on the Guatemalan dig had kept her reading, planning, and daydreaming about what she was going to do with her new income till the wee hours of the morning. It was better to wait until she was locked into the contract and everything was sure. Besides, it was all a bit much.
If all went well, she could live off her expense account and sock away the salary. She could send in the funds and the paperwork to get approval in the first month. Trish linked arms with Janel, spun her right back around, and ushered her outside and into the back seat of a waiting limo.
She had her hair wrapped in enough foil to receive images from the Mars Rover, her feet soaked in a pool where little fish ate the dead skin off her heels, one woman buffed her fingernails and she sat taller, no doubt a byproduct of the massage that took six years of grad school tension out of her shoulders.
Janel was introduced to both girls in passing. The taller one had everything together. The shorter girl had a hint of country twang in her speech, and her blond hair would have made a pageant queen jealous. She talked to her stylist about her little brother, a high school bulldogging champion, saying how much she missed him and was proud of his accomplishments.
Janel put aside her curiosity about the brides and opened her book. She read through the introduction and was halfway through the quiz to find her own love language when her stylist, Clair, scooted her back toward the sinks to wash out the colorant. Once in the swivel chair, Janel looked for a difference, but her dark hair just looked dark. Clair swung her around and pulled out a pair of scissors.
How do you feel about bangs? Trish backed up Janel with a shake of her head.
Clair finally set the scissors down and pulled out bottle after bottle of hair products, slathering them all over her scalp and down to the tips. When she was finished, Janel tentatively reached up to touch her hair. She rarely wore her hair down, and when she did, she flat-ironed it smooth.
Clair had amped up the body, and the romantic waves, cut in choppy layers, framed her face and cascaded down her back. It was a little shorter than before, but not much. Did you do her eyebrows too? Trish gave her a knowing smile. Janel sighed. She hoped Mr. She chewed her lip again. She had no idea what men wanted. Janel slid into the limo, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. No matter how many times she told herself this was just a job, it felt like a lie.
She did the only thing she knew how to do when she was worried: she pulled out her book and studied, determined to pass this test and get the money for the dig if it killed her. The short heel on the brown, calf-high boots clicked against the tile, causing Tina to turn in her direction.
A teal leather jacket—for the love! Now, waiting to meet a man who really was worth a billion bucks or more , she felt like an imposter. Panic seized her chest and she let out a small squeak. Tina rushed around the desk and wrapped Janel in a warm embrace.
Janel looked around. The deep perfume soothed her nerves. She looked down the hall. Just rip off that Band-Aid and be done with it. She could use a friendly face in the room. My mouth is really dry this morning. Whatever happened in this meeting would mean the difference between achieving her lifelong goal and having to erase the last two years of research and start over.
She knocked lightly on the cracked door before pushing it all the way open and waiting to be invited in. He still had a hard time believing he was engaged. Nick stood to meet his bride and almost fell back into his seat at the sight of her.
She was stunning. Her hair was different, wavy, and it seemed like there was more of it, but maybe that was just the new style. Come in, come in. Nicolas Ryburn. When they touched, he had the strangest urge to turn her wrist and kiss just above her knuckles. Mentally shaking himself, he withdrew his hand.
Janel pressed her lips and held eye contact. Finally speaking to her would take a lot of stress out of his life. Janel smiled up at him, and he noticed that her blue-gray eyes, accented with charcoal liner, held a vulnerability that made him want to hold her close and slay dragons. He tore himself away before things became awkward, and took his seat. Janel rubbed her ring finger. If Janel was the type that wanted big jewelry—and her earrings indicated that she liked big and shiny pieces—then they might be in trouble.
Nick sighed. We had to disassemble the display and redo the whole thing. He turned back to the page. It has a band and the stone setting. That way you could wear the band at work and put on the stone to go out. I like it. It looks like they belong together. The design was simple, yet elegant. It was the one he would have picked. He took it as a sign and nodded at Pamela. What kind of a man ties his love language score between quality time and physical touch?
How needy did that make him sound? That explained the quality time, but the physical touch one still made him blush and wonder at the validity of the test. Curious about her results, he gestured to Janel, who blushed. Pamela typed that in and then looked at Nick. Maybe hearing his would ease her discomfort.
He was rewarded for his bravery with a smile of gratitude. Janel was honest, even when it was hard for her. He liked that.
They talked for a few minutes about their schedules. Janel laughed, and Nick found that he enjoyed the way the sound made his chest warm. The movers will be there at seven on Monday morning. That will help out a lot. The furniture should be there later today, and the designer was going to work Saturday on the finishing touches. He looked down at his hand.
So why did he hesitate now? Did it mean more because this woman would be his wife? With her living just across the hall … well, the space between their rooms was more like private sitting rooms what with the couches and all.
He steeled himself to proceed with caution. With the way she concentrated on it, she could have picked him out in a police lineup in a matter of seconds. He was clean shaven today, and she could smell the deep scent of sandalwood. Though she appreciated the effort, she wondered what he looked like tussled.
Slow down there, girl. This is your new coworker, not your boyfriend. Janel took her seat as Nick held the chair for her again. It was nice to be with a man who treated her with respect. She found herself responding like a duchess. Two sets of identical papers were placed before them, and they were directed to initial or sign almost every page as Lisa Marie explained each clause. Even if he died while they were married, the money would go to his mother as stipulated in his will.
Janel was fine with that. The only money she wanted was her salary, and that would be waiting in her savings account when the year was up. She refused to look at Nick as Lisa Marie went over the physical relationship clause.
She signed quickly to get that part over with. Halfway through the stack, there was a knock on the door. Janel gave her a quick nod. Things were going well. Nick took a water and Lisa Marie asked for coffee. I think we could all use a quick breather. Nick twisted the lid to his water back and forth. I spent an hour and a half listening to my lawyer go over this thing yesterday. I asked him to look at your end of things. How many questions she asked? She tried not to look self-serving in front of him, but this was all new to her.
Next to Nick, Janel was the poor country mouse, and she felt every bit of her dowdiness wash over her. Nick tapped his fingers on his stack of papers and grimaced. Was he having second thoughts? He gave me a half-hour lecture on the sanctity of marriage.
My parents are going to flip, and I mean F. Nick chuckled. My mom will have a canary. Nick had a deep voice, one that commanded attention but was gentle.
His laughter went right to her bones and made her smile. Nick cleared his throat. As time went on and they signed more papers than it took to download a small island, she felt more at peace with her decision to go through with this.
Maybe she should cancel her standing Sunday dinner with her parents this week. Nope, she was going to have to suck it up and eat dinner with her parents and somehow not tell them she was getting married the next day. Seven Saturday night, Nick left the charity dinner early.
He rubbed his tired eyes. Just a couple more days and his life would be different. Attending events used to be fun. Had he changed that much in the last few years?
Did he forget how to party? No, he knew perfectly well how to end up being rolled into his car, driven home by someone much more sober, and woken up by a raging headache the next morning. This whole engaged-to-a-stranger situation could be considered a midlife crisis. He pulled into the five-car garage that smelled like concrete sealant and shut off the engine. He pulled the keys out and took off his seatbelt. Nodding once, he made his way into the house. The mudroom was in perfect order.
One more thing to add to his growing to-do list. A wife was a lot of work. He slipped off his shoes and left them next to the bench before heading up to his suite. He peered through the open door to see Erica, his interior designer, taking the plastic off a new pillow and slipping it into a pillowcase.
Her chin-length hair shook as she puffed it between her palms. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped into the room. Erica jumped and let out a scream. Nick put up his hands. Erica grabbed another pillow and started the process all over again.
She talked loudly, so he could hear her over the crackling plastic. I was happy to have something to do tonight. The walls were a light gray with white trim. Erica had a window seat built with bookshelves along one entire wall.
The four-poster bed was draped with purple. He reached out to touch the fabric and found that it slipped through his fingers like warm water. The bedspread was a purple base with gold and silver thread woven through.
There were at least seven pillows in color-coordinated pillowcases or covers. If he remembered right, and he was pretty sure he could remember almost everything about Janel, the top of her head was at his eye level, which would make her three inches or so shorter than him. With a mattress this high, Janel would have to jump to get into bed each night. Your guests will sleep on a cloud. There was a desk on the same wall as the door to the bathroom that led to the walk-in closet.
The area was light, whimsical even, compared to the dark colors and natural stone in his room. He liked the glass tiles in the shower. Teal and purple tiles were scattered randomly through the clear tiles on a white background. The dark cabinets were a nice contrast to the light colors. The closet was filled with organizational tools.
There were plenty of empty shelves and closet rods, as well as a shoe rack and a belt organizer. A box of wooden hangers sat in one corner. He went over, ripped the plastic off of a set, and hung them on the nearest rod.
He did the next set, placing it on a different rod, and then continued till the large box was empty. Placing all the plastic in the box, he took it out to Erica, who was unwrapping a gilded, full-length floor mirror. Erica let out a squeal and clapped her hands. I was trying to keep it under wraps. I would have added a few more masculine touches. Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page A Ruthless Proposition.
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