A Brush with a Billionaire

by Lorana Hoopes

  He said nothing but guided her a few steps forward. Then she felt him step behind her. He pulled at the blindfold, and as it fell from her eyes, she heard a chorus of voices shout. “Surprise! Welcome home, Sam!”

  “It’s finished?” Sam turned questioning eyes on him.

  “Yep.” The house was beautiful. A sprawling four-thousand-foot ranch house with an attached three car garage and a detached shop for Sam in case the gig at the school ended.

  “It’s so big.”

  “Well, it is Texas, honey,” Norma said with a laugh from the wraparound front porch.

  “Aren’t you going to come inside and check the rest out?” Fanny asked as she moved toward the front door.

  “Yes, I suppose.” Sam followed her friends inside, but her feet moved slowly as if in a daze. She had seen the skeleton of the house, but Brent hadn’t let her in once it started to come together. He’d simply supplied pictures and let her work from them. Norma and Fanny took her from one room to the next, pointing out their favorite pieces. Brent followed behind, smiling at Sam as she took everything in.

  Tears filled Sam’s eyes at all the intricate items he had put in. Her touches were all there, combined with his. “This is too much, Brent. How will I ever repay you? There’s nothing I can give you to even come close to this.”

  Brent’s grin widened. “Actually, there is. You can give me the one thing no one else ever has.”

  Sam blinked at him and tried to guess what he meant. “What’s that?”

  “Children. The house has four rooms and I’d like to fill it.”

  Heat colored Sam’s cheeks and her eyes dropped to the floor for a minute before meeting his gaze again. “All right, Mr. McKasson. That I can give you.”

  “Then I am complete.” As he leaned down to kiss her, Norma, Fanny, and Paul cheered and clapped. Sam smiled and realized she finally felt completely at home.

  * * *

  The End!

  * * *

  If you liked this story, please leave a review at your retailer. Just a few words really helps!

  It’s not quite the end!

  Thank you so much for reading A Brush With a Billionaire. In 2017, I was privileged to be a part of Melissa Storm’s Kindle World - The First Street Church. I wrote a wonderful novella called Love Breaks Through and I loved my cover because the guy on it looked like Jared Padalecki (okay, I have a little crush on him after falling in love with him first on Gilmore Girls and now on Supernatural).

  However, in the summer of 2018, we received word that Amazon was shutting down the Kindle World and we were getting our rights back. Melissa offered to bring us into her publishing house or we could change the setting and release the book again ourselves. While I loved working with Melissa, I knew I had so much on my plate that it would be awhile before I would return to Sam and Brent to do more in the series, so I decided to change and re-release. In reading through it again, I realized that Sam’s and Brent’s story had more to tell, so I added another 20,000 words and turned it into a novel. I thought with a little editing, I could turn Brent into a billionaire as they are all the rage right now in 2019 and Brush with a Billionaire was born.

  It originally had a different cover, but when I began putting them in a series, I realized this one looked funny, so it’s also had a cover change recently. It’s still a fun book. I liked writing Sam as the feisty mechanic and having a town full of well-intentioned meddlers was a hoot. I have more planned for Soda Spurs, so be sure to stay tuned.

  I hope you enjoyed the story as well. If you did, would you do me a favor? If you did, please leave a review at your retailer. It really helps. It doesn’t have to be long - just a few words to help other readers know what they’re getting.

  * * *

  I’d love to hear from you, not only about this story, but about the characters or stories you’d like read in the future. I’m always looking for new ideas and if I use one of your characters or stories, I’ll send you a free ebook and paperback of the book with a special dedication. Write to me at loranahoopes@gmail.com. And if you’d like to see what’s coming next, be sure to stop by authorloranahoopes.com

  * * *

  I also have a weekly newsletter that contains many wonderful things like pictures of my adorable children, chances to win awesome prizes, new releases and sales I might be holding, great books from other authors, and anything else that strikes my fancy and that I think you would enjoy. I’ll even send you the first chapter of my newest (maybe not even released yet) book if you’d like to sign up.

  * * *

  Even better, I solemnly swear to only send out one newsletter a week (usually on Tuesday unless life gets in the way which with three kids it usually does). I will not spam you, sell your email address to solicitors or anyone else, or any of those other terrible things.

  * * *

  And if you’re interested in meeting the rest of the billionaires in the series, be sure to check out The Billionaire’s Christmas Miracle. Turn the page for a sneak peek.

  Not ready to say Goodbye yet?

  Sam and Brent will appear just briefly in book 4, but I do plan to revisit Soda Spurs again. Until that time though, I’d love to introduce you to Drew and Gwen.

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Miracle

  He’s a billionaire tired of the elite life…

  Drew Devonshire owns a chain of hotels with his family, but he wants more out of life. His curiosity is piqued when he meets a mysterious stranger at a masquerade party.

  She never meant to deceive him…

  but when her friend asks her to pretend to be her at a party, Gwen doesn’t see the harm. Until she meets Drew Devonshire. Now, he wants to pursue her, but can she tell him who she really is?

  Will a mistaken identity….

  keep them from finding love?

  Read on for a taste of The Billionaire’s Christmas Miracle….

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Miracle preview

  Gwen’s jaw dropped as she regarded her friend. Surely, she had misheard Carrie’s request. There was no way she could be serious. “You want me to do what?” Didn’t Carrie understand what she was asking was one of Gwen’s worst nightmares?

  “Pretend to be me.” Carrie flicked her fiery red hair off her shoulder and picked up the eyeshadow brush. She swiped it across her lid, nonchalantly, as if she had just been asking Gwen to hand her a shirt and not walk into a room full of strangers. Strangers!

  “Just for the night. I’m so tired of these parties, and I promised Lorenzo I’d go riding with him.” Lorenzo was Carrie’s latest fling - a tall, dark, Italian bad boy who wore leather and drove a Harley. At least Gwen was fairly certain his name was Lorenzo. Carrie Bliss changed men like most people changed socks, and she had a hard time keeping up.

  While Gwen adored Carrie, she often wondered how they were still friends. In college, it had made sense. Gwen was the studious library aide and Carrie was the sorority girl who needed help on her papers. But now? Carrie owned her own business and was steadily climbing the “Who’s who in society” ladder while Gwen was an ordinary English teacher. A teacher who had nightmares every year about meeting the upcoming class of students, but they were just kids. Kids like she had been once who needed help, so she could swallow her fear of strangers and stand up in front of them, but she could not walk into a party with a bunch of wealthy adults. Carrie knew this.

  “But we don’t look alike,” Gwen protested with a shake of her head. That wasn’t exactly true. They had been mistaken for sisters more than once, but she needed an excuse. Any excuse.

  Carrie set the make-up down and turned to Gwen. Her right eyebrow inched up her forehead in a stop-being-a-baby expression. “We look close enough. We both have red hair, we’re about the same height-”

  “You’re two sizes smaller than me,” Gwen finished. She wasn’t overweight, but her size eight to ten frame was bigger than Carrie’s perfect size six one.

  Carrie flashed her manicured hand in a dismiss
ive wave. French tips. They were so pretty. Gwen’s own nails were all different lengths and not painted. She’d only had one manicure in her life. High school prom. Her foster mother had taken her to get a manicure even though she didn’t have a date. “Everyone should feel pretty at least one day,” she’d said. Carrie, on the other hand, had a weekly standing appointment with her nail lady, and while she’d offered to take Gwen along and pay for hers more than once, Gwen just couldn’t do it. It seemed like a frivolous waste of money even if it wasn’t her money.

  “Just don’t get too close to anyone, and no one will know. Besides, most of these people barely know me. They just know the name of Carrie Bliss Designs. The only one you’d have to watch out for is Grant.” Her nose wrinkled the tiniest bit as she said his name.

  Grant was Carrie’s ex - a snobby stock broker who managed the portfolios of many of the wealthiest in the city. Gwen had never liked Grant nor understood why Carrie dated him, but then again, she didn’t understand why Carrie dated half the men she did. “I don’t know, Carrie, it’s not really my thing.”

  “Which is exactly why you should go.” Carrie turned back to the mirror and puckered her lips. “You never do anything fun. You go to work and then you come home and hang out there.”

  That part was true; Gwen’s life was boring, but she liked it that way. At least most days. “I’m a homebody. I like staying home.” Plus, it was safer there. No one would beat her or die on her if she stayed in her house. Yes, it was lonely on occasion, but still safer.

  Carrie’s eyes flicked up to catch Gwen’s in the mirror. “But you’ll never meet anyone stuck inside this house.”

  Which was the whole point. Gwen didn’t want to meet someone. It hurt too much to love people.

  “Besides, this is the perfect opportunity,” Carrie continued, “you’ll be wearing a mask, so you can hide behind it.”

  Gwen’s teeth bit into her bottom lip. Wearing the mask might make it better. It wouldn’t curb her anxiety about being in a room full of strangers, but it would help that they couldn’t really see her. And it would be something different. “What will I wear?” Gwen couldn’t believe she was even considering this. “Is it formal? Because I have nothing formal.”

  “Relax, I’m sure I have something in my closet that will fit you. Come on, let’s go look.”

  She followed Carrie to her immense closet. Though they had shared an apartment for a time in college, eventually Carrie’s more expensive taste and wallet had led her to purchase a penthouse in the city. Gwen, however, rented a studio in a much poorer section of town.

  “Let’s see.” Carrie walked along the dresses hanging down, her hand touching each garment as she passed. Gwen would never get used to the size of this closet. It was nearly the size of her whole apartment. Carrie stopped and pulled out an emerald green gown. “Try this one. I remember it being slightly big on me, so it’s probably just your size.”

  Gwen’s fingers touched the satiny gown. It was more expensive than anything she would ever own. Off the shoulder and floor length, the satin rippled like waves as it fell to the floor. “What if I ruin it?” Gwen wasn’t exactly a klutz, but she could just picture herself spilling a fancy drink on the beautiful gown.

  Carrie smiled. “You won’t, and even if you do, it’s not like I’m hurting for it.” She gestured to the myriad of dresses still hanging on the rods.

  She was running out of excuses, and it was just one night. Perhaps it would even be fun, and she could reminisce on the evening later when the silence pressed in on her at her apartment. It wasn’t like she would have another chance at something like this. “Okay, I’ll see if it fits.”

  Carrie stepped out of the closet to give Gwen some privacy. She laid the gown across the padded bench and shook her head. Who had a bench in their closet? She didn’t think she would ever get used to some of the things wealthy people seemed to waste their money on.

  Her fingers trembled slightly as she removed her clothes and stepped into the dress. This is wrong paraded again and again in her head like a scratched record, but her hands still pulled the dress up. Her fingers still found the zipper and tugged. It was a little snug, but it fit. If she didn’t eat too much.

  Lifting the dress so as not to step on the hem, Gwen stepped out of the closet. Carrie clapped her hands and sighed. “Yes, you look perfect. Well, almost perfect. Hang on.” She hurried back into the closet and the sound of drawers opening and closing carried out. “Ah, here we go.” She re-emerged holding a feathered mask and held it out. “Now, you’ll look perfect.”

  Gwen’s fingers grasped the mask, a beautiful atrocity of purples, greens, and golds. She pulled the string and fastened it over her face before turning to the mirror. Whoa! Her lips parted at the vision in front of her, and a small gasp escaped. She looked... beautiful, and Carrie was right - no one would know it wasn’t Carrie from far away. With her face covered, she appeared even more like her friend.

  “See? I told you. Now let’s get you some shoes, a little jewelry, and pin your hair up.”

  Gwen glanced down at her wrist. “Can I keep the bracelet on at least?” It was the last thing her parents had given her - a diamond tennis bracelet. And it never came off, not even to shower.

  Carrie’s eyes softened. She had never met Gwen’s parents - they had been dead for years before Carrie entered the picture, but Gwen had told her about them one late night over popcorn and The Breakfast Club. “I’d never ask you to take your bracelet off. I was just thinking some diamond earrings would be a great match with it.”

  Tears filled Gwen’s eyes. This was why she and Carrie were still friends. Though worlds apart, she was so thoughtful sometimes.

  With the earrings picked and the shoes found, Gwen checked the mirror one last time. She still couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she might as well make the most of it. For one night, she could pretend to be Carrie, pretend to be wanted, pretend to be wealthy and not have a care in the world. It was just one night.

  Drew Devonshire adjusted his mask. He looked a little like the Phantom with his white shirt, dark pants, and cape, but the look suited him. If only he were more excited about this event, but they were all the same. He’d been attending them for years, and the results never changed. By the end of the night, he would be dying of boredom, dazed from the alcohol he’d consumed to battle said boredom, and have at least a dozen numbers in his pocket from women after his money whom he had no interest in.

  It was always the same people there - the affluent and elite of society. They would gather at some elaborate venue with tiny portions of intricate food that would cost whoever was hosting the event a fortune. In this case, that was Drew, or his family rather, as his mother was hosting this masquerade ball at one of their hotels.

  Occasionally, a millionaire from another town would be in attendance or sometimes a relative of one of the families would be, but even those instances were rare. His mother invited old friends and only new people she thought would attend her next benefit. Since those were priced at a thousand dollars a plate that list was small. Plus, while the food was delectable, it never filled him up, and he invariably had to have his chef make him a second meal when he returned home.

  If only he could get out of this, but his mother would be there. If he didn’t attend, she would be livid. As heir to the billion-dollar hotel chain, it was his duty to attend events like this. Maybe he could leave early, but what would he do even if he could? Return home to his mansion and watch television alone again? He already did that nightly.

  For a time, he had filled his nights with women. One after the other, he had wined them and dined them, but none had held his interest. Soon, the very thought of dating and pretending to like them had grown old. They were all alike - cookie cutters of their mothers and their mothers before them. Tailored clothing, designer shoes, and an appetite for spending money without abandonment appeared to be all that drove these women. Drew wanted something different. He had no idea what, but someth
ing different. No, that wasn’t true. He wanted someone like Marjorie had been or who he thought Marjorie had been.

  A knock sounded on his door. “Come in.” It had to be Pierre, his butler. Though officially the help, Pierre felt more like family. He had been Drew’s butler for over a decade now and his confidante almost as long.

  “Are you ready, sir? Manuel has the limo waiting.” Pierre was older than Drew, gray at the temples and with more lines on his face, but still handsome. He had never wanted to marry, and as Drew paid him well, he seemed content to remain Drew’s main butler, but he had a few men beneath him, so he could take time off when he needed.

  Drew sighed. It wasn’t as if he had much choice. “I suppose I am.” He shoved his wallet in his pocket. “Pierre, is there anything else going on tonight? If I finish early?”

  Pierre’s brows knitted together. “Early, sir? Don’t these events run on the lengthy side?”

  “Yes, they do, but I was thinking about retiring early.” He hoped Pierre was catching his innuendo. “If something else were going on that sounded interesting, I mean.”

  Pierre nodded. “Ah, I see. I’m afraid I am not well informed on the night life around town, but Manuel usually has knowledge of such events. Although I must say, the Devonshire events are always the talk of the town, so I’m not sure what else you might be looking for.”

  That elicited a small smile from Drew. He clapped Pierre on the shoulder. “Me either, but thank you, my friend. I will ask Manuel.”

  “Very good, sir.” Pierre nodded and stepped out of the way, so Drew could exit the room.

  Though he lived alone, except for the help he employed, his mansion was palatial. Five bedrooms each with their own bathroom took up the second floor. A large grandiose stairway connected the two floors, and his loafers clicked against the white marble as he made his way down them.