Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel

by Murphy, Monica

  But those white rubber boots are the finishing touch. I’ve never seen Bryn look like this.

  I kinda like it.

  “What are you doing here, Matt?” she asks, sticking the shovel into the ground, her fingers still gripping the handle.

  “I came looking for you.” My mouth goes dry the longer I stare at her. A faint sheen of sweat covers her skin, and I can smell that addictive-as-hell scent of hers wafting all around me, despite the bucket of chicken shit sitting at her feet.

  “Why?” Her voice is so soft, so full of doubt I wish I could pull her in and hold her close.

  But I don’t. Not yet. I might have to wait until she takes a shower or at the very least washes her hands, but I will be holding this woman very soon in my arms, I promise.

  “I want you to come back with me, Bryn,” I tell her, keeping it simple. “I miss you.”

  Her lips part, and she grips the shovel handle so tight, her knuckles go white. “What?”

  “I miss you. Have you missed me too?” I step closer to her, notice the way her eyes widen, her tongue sneaks out for a quick swipe of her lips. Damn, I want to kiss her. “After being without you, I realized I need you.”

  “As your assistant?”

  Ah, my silly Bryn. She just can’t believe someone would actually want her, can she? Wouldn’t she be surprised, knowing I was a complete wreck while she was gone? “Not as my assistant. I need you in my life. I want you by my side, helping me run the winery.”

  “Working for you,” she says, her voice flat.

  “I’ll pay you, yes, since technically you’ll be my employee but not as my assistant. You’ll be my partner.” I smile gently and take another step toward her, until I’m standing directly in front of her, reaching out my hand to settle it over hers still gripping the shovel handle. “I’m in love with you, Bryn. And I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

  “Matt,” she starts, but I squeeze her hand, silencing her.

  “Don’t protest or tell me you don’t want to bring me down or whatever other crazy excuse you came up with the last time we talked. I don’t want to hear it.” With my free hand I reach for her, cupping her cheek, savoring her soft, soft skin. “I want you in my life. I want you living with me in California and working with me. I want us to be partners and grow DeLuca Winery together. What do you think?”

  She smiles, her blue eyes bright with tears. “I think you’re crazy.”

  “You’re right.” Unable to resist any longer, I lean in and press a soft kiss to her tempting lips. “I’m crazy for you, Bryn. Now say that’ll you give up scooping chicken shit for the rest of your life and come work with me.”

  Bryn laughs, the tears flowing freely now. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  “Stubborn woman,” I murmur just before I kiss her again, this one deeper, hotter, full of plenty of tongue and sweet, low murmurs of pleasure coming from my woman.

  My woman. Mine. That’s the only way I’ve thought of Bryn since she left me. It just took me this long to work up the courage to finally go after the woman I want.

  “What about . . . what will everyone say?” she asks when she pulls away. “They’ll talk about us. About how you’re screwing your assistant.”

  I’m completely offended she would simplify our relationship like that. “I’m not screwing you. I want to be with you. I want you as my partner. In business, in life, in everything. I want you. Fuck anyone who questions that.”

  She gapes at me like she can’t believe what I said. Clearing her throat, she murmurs, “I’ve been so worried how all of this will affect me. Being with you. I’ve not had the best luck with men, you know.”

  “I know,” I say softly, my heart breaking for her. She looks scared. Nervous. The very last things I want her to feel. “I would be proud to call you my partner in all aspects of my life, Bryn. You’re smart and strong. I need you in my life. More than you can even imagine.”

  Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Really?” she asks incredulously.

  I dip my head, my mouth hovering above hers. “Really. I love you,” I whisper against her lips, as I thrust my fingers into her thick, beautiful hair. “Come home with me, Bryn. Be with me. I need you.”

  She smiles, a tremulous laugh escaping her before she nods. “I love you too, Matt. I missed you so much. I—I couldn’t stand being without you.”

  “I missed you too, baby. And trust me, I’ll never make you scoop up chicken shit at my house. It’s one hundred percent chicken shit free.” I kiss her again because I can’t resist and we both release our grip on the shovel handle at the same time, grabbing hold of each other, our bodies colliding. She feels so damn good next to me, her sexy little body barely covered, looking like my every dream come to life.

  Even in the crazy white rubber boots.

  “Are you saying you’re my own personal savior again? Coming in to rescue me from a life of scooping chicken crap?” She blinks up at me, and I smile, nuzzle my nose against hers.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Only when you call me your savior, I gotta say, you’ve become mine too.” I lower my head and kiss her, wanting her to know how ready I am to take her out of Cactus and bring her home with me for good.

  Where she belongs.

  Acknowledgments

  * * *

  I HAD A lot of fun writing about these billionaire bachelors and their ridiculous million dollar bet. Creating the perfect matches for them, watching them fall hard, I enjoyed every minute of it. I want to thank my editor Chelsey Emmelhainz for her endless support, for helping me make the books better every single time and her infinite patience with me while I flailed and generally worked myself into a complete frenzy throughout the summer of 2013. I appreciate you more than I think you know, and I look forward to working on something new with you!

  To everyone at Avon Impulse, I think you’re a fabulous publisher full of amazing support. To Caroline Perny for being so responsive and for all the help. I’ve had a great time being an Avon Impulse author and hope to continue this journey.

  As always, I must thank my family for dealing with me as I hide away in my office and work all the damn time. I have the best husband and kids EVER.

  And to the readers. Your support means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this job without you so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Don’t miss how this million-dollar bet got started . . .

  Keep reading for excerpts from Book One and Book Two in Monica Murphy’s sexy

  Billionaire Bachelors Club series

  CRAVE

  and

  TORN

  Now available from Avon Impulse!

  An Excerpt from

  CRAVE

  Ivy

  A KNOCK SOUNDS at the door, and I jump, grabbing the robe off the hook with lightning speed. Throwing it on, I approach, figuring it’s Gage ready to tell me something lame before he goes to bed. He’s always been a little overprotective, so he’s probably just checking up on me.

  “I’m fine, Gage. Really,” I say as I open the door, stunned silent when I see who’s standing before me.

  “Really?” Archer raises a brow, one hand in his pants’ pocket, the other clutching an article of clothing. “Why wouldn’t you be anything but fine?”

  Oh. Shit. He should so not be standing in front of me right now. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing over his shoulder to thankfully see Gage’s door is closed.

  “Making sure you’re comfortable.” He thrusts his hand out toward me. “I brought you something.”

  I’m ultra-aware of the fact that beneath the terry cloth, I’m wearing absolutely nothing. The impulse to untie the sash and let the robe drop to my feet just to see Archer’s reaction is near overwhelming.

  But I keep it under control. For now.

  “What is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.

&
nbsp; “One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I know you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”

  His eyes darkened at the word bed and my knees wobble. Good lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign, I’m not quite sure how to react.

  “Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.

  The man is clearly turning me into a freak of epic proportions.

  “You’re welcome.” He leans his tall body against the doorframe, looking sleepy and rumpled and way too sexy for words. I want to grab his hand and yank him into my room.

  Wait, no I don’t. That’s a bad—terrible—idea.

  Liar.

  “Is that all then?” I ask because we don’t need to be standing here having this conversation. First, my brother could find us and start in again on what a mistake we are. Second, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that I’m completely naked beneath the robe. Third, I’m still contemplating shedding the robe and showing Archer just how naked I am.

  “Yeah. Guess so.” His voice is rough, and he pushes away from the doorframe. “Well. Good night.”

  “Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t shut the door. I don’t move.

  Neither does he.

  “Ivy . . .” His voice trails off and he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. Which is hot. Oh my God, everything he does is hot, and I decide to give in to my impulses because screw it.

  I want him.

  Archer

  LIKE AN IDIOT, I can’t come up with anything to say. It’s like my throat is clogged, and I can hardly force a sound out, what with Ivy standing before me, her long, wavy, dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, her slender body engulfed in the thick white robe I keep for guests. The very same type of robe we provide at Hush.

  But then she does something so surprising—so amazingly awesome—I’m momentarily dumbfounded by the sight.

  Her slender hands go for the belt of the robe and she undoes it quickly, the fabric parting, revealing bare skin. Completely bare skin.

  Holy shit. She’s naked. And she just dumped the robe onto the ground so she’s standing in front of me. Again, I must stress, naked.

  My mouth drops open, a rough sound coming from low in my throat. Damn, she’s gorgeous. All long legs and curvy waist and hips and full breasts topped with pretty pink nipples. I’m completely entranced for a long, agonizing moment. All I can do is gape at her.

  “Well, are you just going to stand there and wait for my brother to come back out and find us like this or are you going to come inside my room?”

  An Excerpt from

  TORN

  Marina

  “THIS IS A huge mistake.”

  “What is?” He settles those big hands of his on my waist. His long fingers span outward, gripping me tight, and I feel like I’ve become seized by some uncontrollable force, one I can’t fight off no matter how hard I try.

  That force would be Gage.

  “I already told you.” God, he’s exasperating. It’s like he doesn’t even listen to a word I say. “Us. Together. There will never be an us or a together, got it?”

  “Got it, boss.” He’s not really listening, I can tell. He’s pulled slightly away so he can stare down at me, too enraptured with his hands on my body. A shock of brown hair tinged with gold tumbles down across his forehead, and I resist the urge to reach out and push it away from his face.

  Just barely.

  He slides his hands around me until they settle at the small of my back, his fingertips barely grazing my backside. I’m wearing jeans, yet it’s like I can feel his touch directly on my skin. Heat rushes over me, making my head spin, and I let go of a shaky exhalation.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper, pressing my lips together when I feel his hands slide over my butt. Oh my God, his touch feels so good.

  What the hell am I thinking? Letting him touch me like this? It’s wrong. Us together is wrong.

  So why does it feel so right?

  “Do what?” His question sounds innocent enough, but his touch isn’t. He pulls me into him so I can feel the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against my belly and a gasp escapes me. He’s big. Thick. My thighs shake at the thought of him entering me.

  I need to put a stop to this, and quick.

  “I don’t think we sh—”

  Gage presses his index finger to my lips, silencing me. I stare up at him, entranced by the glow in his eyes, the way he stares at my mouth. Like he’s a starving man dying to devour me.

  Anticipation thrums through my veins. I should walk away now. Right now, before we take this any further. We’re standing in the doorway of the bakery for God’s sake. Anyone could see us, not that many people are roaming the downtown sidewalks at this time of night. He’s got one hand sprawled across my ass and he’s tracing my lips with his finger like he wants to memorize the shape of them.

  And I’m . . . parting my lips so I can suck on his fingertip.

  His eyes darken as he slips his finger deeper into my mouth. I close my lips around him, sucking, tasting his salty skin with a flick of my tongue. A rough, masculine sound rumbles from his chest as his hand falls away from my lips. He drifts his fingers down my chin, my neck, and my breath catches in my throat.

  “Gage.” I whisper his name, confused. Is it a plea for him to stop or for him to continue? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want from him.

  “Scared?” he asks, his lids lifting so he can pin me with his gorgeous green eyes. They’re glittering in the semidarkness, full of so much hunger, and my body responds, pulsating with need.

  I try my best to offer a snide response but the truth comes out instead. “Terrified.”

  He lowers his head. I can feel his breath feather across my lips, and I part them in response, eager for his kiss. “That makes two of us,” he whispers.

  Just before he settles his mouth on mine.

  About the Author

  * * *

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author MONICA MURPHY is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite. A wife and mother of three, she writes new adult and contemporary romance. Visit her online at www.monicamurphyauthor.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MonicaMurphyAuthor.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  By Monica Murphy

  The Billionaire Bachelors Club Series

  Savor

  Torn

  Crave

  New Adult

  Three Broken Promises

  Second Chance Boyfriend

  One Week Girlfriend

  Give in to your impulses . . .

  Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new

  e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

  Available now wherever e-books are sold.

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A COWBOY

  By Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane

  SANTA, BRING MY BABY BACK

  By Cheryl Harper

  THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE CHRONICLES: GRACE

  By Lori Wilde

  DESPERATELY SEEKING FIREMAN

  A BACHELOR FIREMEN NOVELLA

  By Jennifer Bernard

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A COWBOY

  by Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane

  What’s better than Christmas?

  Christmas and Cowboys.

  From Emma Cane, Jennifer Ryan, and Katie Lane come three wildly romantic holiday stories featuring snowstorms, proposals, a sleigh ride . . . and, yes, cowboys.

  The Christmas Cabin by Emma Cane

  Sandy and her five-year-old son, Nate, are Christmas tree–hunting when a snowstorm strikes and an old ranch hand points t
hem to an abandoned cabin. Little does Sandy know, the hand sent cowboy Doug Thalberg to the same place. It’s a Christmas all of Valentine Valley will remember.

  Can’t Wait by Jennifer Ryan

  Before The Hunted Series began . . .

  Though she is the woman of his dreams, Caleb Bowden knows his best friend’s sister, Summer Turner, is off limits. He won’t cross that line, which means Summer will just have to take matters into her own hands if she wants her cowboy for Christmas.

  Baby It’s Cold Outside by Katie Lane

  Alana Hale hits the internet dating jackpot when she finds Clint McCormick. He’s sensitive and responsible—not to mention wealthy. When he invites her to spend the holidays on his family’s ranch, she readily accepts. But on the way there, a blizzard strands her with a womanizing rodeo cowboy who could change everything . . .

  An Excerpt from

  SANTA, BRING MY BABY BACK

  by Cheryl Harper

  A bride abandoned at the altar . . . just in time for Christmas? ’Tis the season for second chances at Cheryl Harper’s Elvis-themed Rock’n’Rolla Hotel.

  There was something about Grace Andersen that made him want to help, even after decades of trying to guard his mother and her money against personalities and stories like hers.

  He wouldn’t mind being Grace Andersen’s hero.

  To avoid doing something stupid, Charlie turned to go but stopped when she added, “Oh, Charlie, could you do me a favor?”

  She shuffled toward him, the rustle of the wedding dress sweeping the floor loud in the silence. “Could you unzip me? I thought I was going to dislocate a shoulder getting it zipped in the first place.” She turned and bent her head so that all Charlie could see was the smooth, pale skin of her shoulders and the loose dark hairs that tickled her neck.