Readers have asked me to continue the story of Shannon and Declan, and so I have. You can read about Declan’s proposal in the next book in the Shopping series...
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancée
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.
* * *
Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancée gives near-billionaire Declan McCormick the chance to tell his story in this continuation of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series.
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Contents
Santa Baby
Blair Babylon
Christmas Shopping for a Billionaire
Julia Kent
Bossy Bride
JA Huss
Infatuation
Willow Winters
A Very Dare Christmas
Carly Phillips
Delight Me
J. Kenner
Sweet Liar
Laurelin Paige
Copyright © 2019 by JA Huss
ISBN: 978-1-950232-17-8
No part of this book may be reproduced or resold in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imaginations or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design by JA Huss
Jesse Boston is the man of my dreams. He’s super hot, super rich, and super funny. He gets all my jokes, he treats me like a princess, and our love life is smokin’ hot.
So I’m gonna marry him. I’m not real picky about how that happens and if my mother wants to have her say, fine. That’s fine. She gave birth to three boys and just one girl. So I get it. She NEEDS a wedding.
But when she invites my childhood nemesis, KAREN, to plan our wedding AND be one of my bride’s maids? Uh---no. It’s not happening. Karen Krakken-Channing will not plan my wedding, will not be at my wedding, and she’s certainly not going to be IN my wedding.
Luckily, my jet-butler, Miles, and my almost-husband get this great idea!
We’re going to elope to Vegas on Christmas Eve eve, get hitched in the most ridiculous way possible, and then fly home in time for Christmas Eve dinner.
We’ve got it all figured out.
Nothing can go wrong.
We will have one simple wedding in like… a drive-through chapel, and call it good.
Take that, KAREN!
Bossy Bride features Jesse and Emma getting almost-hitched on a roller coaster, tricked into being the stars of a pirate show, jumping out of an airplane, and saying their vows in front of two huge Italian families who don’t speak English. It’s a rompy, whirlwind trip down a rabbit hole of “Fantasy” Vegas weddings planned by a man called “Fingers” and just when you think nothing else could go wrong—a mermaid descends from the ceiling.
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
My first Bright Berry Beach holiday party
Let me just set the scene for this insane group of cosmetics-crazy celebrators.
We have Mila Sanchez as Santa. That’s right. Five-foot-tiny Mila dressed up, not as Mrs. Claus, but the actual Santa. She’s got the fat suit. The black boots. The white beard. I’m talking the whole shebang. Plus, a red velvet sack filled with party favors.
Not gifts—I’ll get to that in a minute. Party favors.
Mostly they are baked goods. Of the cannabis variety. But there are also tiny bottles of Dom Pérignon with a special Bright Berry Beach rose-gold foil label, and made-to-order Stefano Ricci silk ties with tiny crystal berry embellishments in both red and blue, and every now and then some lucky bastard pulls out a Breguet watch or a bright blue Tiffany box.
I just can’t with Mila.
But I actually wouldn’t mind one of those watches.
Too bad I pulled out a pot brownie. Emma ate it. Like in one gulp. Because I’m sober, so yeah. No pot brownies for me.
It’s nine-thirty right now and everyone is pretty smashed on edibles, or champagne, or silk ties, or Breguet and Tiffany good luck.
I’m just watching this whole thing with a sort of detached fascination.
There is a little part of me that misses the old days. My yacht days. My party days. My sailing-the-world days filled with drugs, and drinking, and sex with strangers.
But it’s a very small part of me.
I do enjoy watching Emma get wasted though. I’ve never seen her wasted. She’s a fun drunk. Dancing and laughing, twirling and giggling. Her eyes are glassy and bright, her cheeks flushed all pink like she just had really hot sex.
I’m in the middle of formulating a plan to lure her up the escalators to her office so I can fuck her on her desk when she grabs the karaoke mic and starts singing Jingle Bell Rock. She looks at me and I get all tingly and warm when she winks and shakes her jingle bells.
God. Emma Dumas. One of a kind. And she’s mine. All mine.
We’re getting married next spring and honestly, that’s all I can think about. I know her bossy mom down in Key West is trying to take over the wedding plans and that’s driving Emma up a wall, but I do not give one shit what the wedding looks like. I just want to pledge my undying love to her and then fuck her for a whole week straight in Tahiti.
Down, boy. Because I’m ready for that desk sex right now and she’s currently the entertainment.
So. Back to the party.
Then we have Hannah. Tall and willowy nerd-glasses Hannah. She looks like a fucking runway model right now. If said runway model was dressed up like an alien elf. Which, I have to say, Hannah pulls off pretty well. Not many women can wear a bald cap, elf ears, and a tight silver minidress and still look hot.
Why is she dressed like an alien elf, you ask?
I’m not sure. It might have something to do with the AlienCon Christmas party down the street. I think she and what’s-his-face the boyfriend just came from there because he’s dressed up like a silver alien reindeer and he keeps saying, “Take me to your mascara,” in a fake robot-slash-alien voice like this is the best joke ever.
Newsflash, what’s-your-face. It’s not. You’re just drunk on edibles and your hot alien-elf girlfriend.
But the really interesting Bright Berry Beach partner here tonight is Natalie. She has two dates. She started the night with three, but one’s a gynecologist and got called in for an emergency caesarian on triplets.
I’m pretty sure there’s a joke in there somewhere—three men, three babies—but I can’t seem to find it at the moment.
Anyway. Natalie currently has two dudes on her arms. She’s wearing them like jewelry. And she’s talking to my almost-sister-in-law, Brooke—who is now a full-time Bright Berry Beach independent cosmetic sales consultant for corporate parties, or… something?—and my actual, sorta-not-brother, Joey, and their two other partners, Wald and Huck, over by the punch bowl.
I’m reading t
heir lips and formulating my own make-believe conversation as I watch this interaction go down…
Natalie to Brooke: So, do you all sleep in the same bed?
It starts out tame, but to the point.
Brooke to Natalie: Oh, no. We take turns. There’s just not a bed big enough to accommodate four sexy people such as ourselves at the same time.
Natalie to Joey: How’s that work? Do you guys have a schedule? Like… you get Brooke on Monday and Thursdays?
Joey to Natalie: Blank face with eye blinking.
Huck to Natalie: I get Joey on Mondays and Thursdays.
Natalie to Huck: Blank face with eye blinking.
Wald to Natalie: He’s kidding. He gets me on Mondays and Thursdays.
Natalie’s Boyfriend Number One: Hahaha. (as he elbows Natalie’s Boyfriend Number Two)
Natalie’s Boyfriend Number Two: Side-eyeing Number One.
Natalie to Wald: Interesting.
Natalie’s Boyfriend Number One: Very interesting. I’d like to hear more.
Natalie’s Boyfriend Number Two: Who needs more pot brownies?
Huck to Natalie: Are you into swinging? Because we are.
Natalie to Huck: Hahaha.
But then Number Two walks off and Joey starts kissing Brooke, and Huck grabs Joey’s ass, and Wald…
Yeah. I’m out. I like Brooke, Wald, and Huck, but I really don’t understand the logistics of their relationship. They cannot all fit in one bed. I mean, I guess they could make it work for some foursome sex, but sleeping? Where do they sleep? When Emma and I go over to visit them Joey calls Brooke’s room his room. And Brook calls Joey’s room her room. And both Huck and Wald have bedrooms on the lower level… so where do they sleep?
God, this bugs me. I need to know where they sleep!
I swing my gaze across the room to Johnny. Which—can I just say?—is hilarious. That he has to be here at this holiday party because Megan is now a full-time Bright Berry Beach employee. She’s Hannah’s new lab tech. Cooks up lipstick flavors or something.
Is it weird that the Boston brothers are now all connected to Bright Berry Beach? Is that too many B’s? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s not weird. But if Zach Boston ends up at next year’s party, I will have to give this question some serious consideration.
Emma saunters over to me, still belting out Jingle Bell Rock and shaking her jingle bells, and I pause my people-watching to beam a smile at her.
So. Cute.
This girl is so cute.
Which reminds me. I still want to fuck her on her desk before we leave tonight. Preferably while the party is still in full swing with I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas subtly filtering up from the corporate office lobby…
But before I can grab Emma around the waist and whisk her off to the escalator that goes up to the executive offices, she’s moved on. Singing to someone else.
I catch Johnny’s eye from across the room and start heading that way. Megan is busy talking to what’s-his-face near the dessert table, equally enthralled with the blinking red lights on his antlers and the red and green macaron tray in front of her, so Johnny is all alone.
He’s not really social, so I figure I’m doing him a favor by coming by. But just as I open my mouth to say something, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and I pause.
I look at his pocket, then him.
He ignores the phone. Stares back at me.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”
“I know who it is. So. No.”
“Who is it?”
He sighs. It’s one of those I’m-bored sighs. Or I’m-going-to-kill-you-now-if-you-keep-talking sighs. One or the other.
Have I mentioned I’m the charming one in the family?
I am.
“Fucking Alonzo.”
“Alonzo.” I say this not as a question, exactly. But it’s definitely confusion. “Alonzo… as in my almost-brother-in-law?”
“The very one.”
“Why is he calling you?”
“Do you think they’re sneaky?”
“Who?”
“The fuckin’ Dumas family.”
“Sneaky how?”
“You know.” He juts his chin at me. “Like us.”
I shake my head and squint my eyes. “What?”
“Never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“You’re heading down there tomorrow, right?”
“Yup. Spending the whole week there. I can’t wait.” I really dig the Dumas family. Even though all Emma’s brothers regularly size me up like they’re about to jump my ass, I still like them. They’re all just so… likable.
“Well…” Johnny looks side to side all craftily, like he’s about to tell me a secret. “Set your alarm for three AM and look out your window at Jack and Silvia’s house.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Now it’s my turn to sigh. Ever since Johnny came back from the Caribbean last summer, he’s been weirdly cagey, but not dangerously cagey. If that makes sense. And it does. To me, anyway. First of all, he really didn’t come back with any information. Just this girl Megan. Who is some sort of scientist? But everything seemed to get better.
Better how?
Let me tell you how. Johnny and Megan moved up to the lake house. And he’s no longer in charge of the money-making ceremony. Some guy called Chek is. Chek has this twelve-year-old daughter called Wendy who kinda creeps me out. I can’t place my finger on it because she’s kinda cute. And smart. And quiet. But she has this look she gives people when they’re not paying attention.
This look reminds me of Johnny.
But then again, it reminds me of Chek too. So… maybe it’s just genetics and I’m overreacting?
But here’s the thing… I’m the sober one, right? I see things others miss because they’re drinking beer, or eating pot brownies, or dressing up like alien elves and whatever. Sober is like a superpower. You see things. And of course, little creepy Wendy is sober too. So she has the same superpower.
Also, I’m pretty sure Johnny had something to do with Joey getting shared custody of his daughter, Maisy. Every other weekend. And Michael Conner didn’t even put up a fight even though his family and all those other creepy families up on the Kane estate still have to pay their monthly… contribution.
Nothing really changed. And yet everything got less stressful.
But that’s twice I’ve used the word ‘creepy’ in less than five seconds of thinking time.
What’s up with that?
Anyway, back to the point and my convo with Johnny. “What does Jack and Silvia’s house have to do with Alonzo?”
Jack and Silvia are Emma’s parents. Super cool people. Like… I cannot even tell you how much I love Jack and Silvia. They own a shitload of water adventure shops down on Key West and a whole block of bungalows two blocks from the ocean. So the whole Dumas clan lives on this same street and then they rent the others out to tourists when Emma and her Bright Berry Beach peeps aren’t down for a visit.
Johnny holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “I’m just saying. Take a peek out the window at three AM and tell me what you see.”
“OK, dude.” I clap him on the back. He’s not all there so sometimes it’s just better to just agree with him and move on to another topic. “So what are you and Megan doing for the holidays? Got any big plans?”
I should know this. He is my brother. But I haven’t spent a holiday with Johnny since… well, a long time ago. Probably over fifteen years ago. Long before our uncle and father died.
Johnny shoots me a confused look. “Holiday?”
“You know… Christmas?”
“Oh. I don’t do church.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “OK. Yeah. But you know, Christmas is about trees and presents.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Dude, it so is. That’s why we’re here. At this party. There’s a giant twenty-foot-tall tree in front of the window and a present machine near
the exit.”
Ah. That reminds me. The presents. Because Santa Mila’s bag is only filled with favors. They have an honest-to-God present machine here. Everyone got a lanyard as they came into the party. It’s got your name on it and everything. And you know what’s cool about these lanyards? The name is on both sides. I like that. I totally hate when people are wearing lanyards and you’re desperate to know their name, but it’s flipped backwards, so you either have to pretend you know their name—this is often my problem. I can’t remember anyone’s name—or tell them to flip their fucking badge around so you can read it.
Anyway. When you leave the party, you scan your lanyard under the Santa Laser Machine (this is a trademarked brand invented by Alien Elf herself) and boom. You get an email that reveals your Bright Berry Beach present.
I’m so fucking excited about this, I can’t even explain it. I don’t need a damn thing in this life. Not one damn thing. I’m set now that Emma is in my life and my brothers and I are on speaking terms again. So I’m not even sure why I’m so excited about the Santa Machine. Might have something to do with Emma bragging about the present she got me. Even though I don’t need it, everyone loves presents, right?
So I’ve been trying to figure out what she could possibly feel so confident about. A yacht? A Lamborghini? A house? What? What is she getting me?
But then… all my guesses are stupid. I don’t even like Lamborghinis and Bright Berry Beach isn’t buying me a yacht or a house.
But it could happen. Santa Mila is passing out mini-Dom Pérignon bottles like they’re candy-canes.
“Christmas is about church.” Johnny is adamant.
“Johnny. Brother. I hope to hell you got Megan a present for Christmas because if you didn’t… you’re just an asshole.”
A Billionaire for Christmas Page 30