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The Billionaire’s Angel
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He thought the fight was over until his heart was on the line.
I thought coming home would solve all my problems. I’ve never been more wrong.
The Billionaire’s Angel is a standalone romance with a happy ending. It’s the seventh book in the Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires series and reveals more about the notorious Winters family. You can read it on its own, everything you need to know is explained, but once you get a taste you’ll want to read the others ;}
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My hands shook as I measured a short length of tape. Staring down at the black cockroach in my hand, I wondered again how I’d gotten myself into this mess.
It’s not what you’re thinking. The cockroach wasn’t real. I’ve learned how to be brave in the past few years, but not brave enough to carry around live bugs. Yuck. No, this cockroach had been carefully cut out of black construction paper, along with the selection of spiders and crickets spread across the seat of the leather couch.
It was after two in the morning, and I was in my employer’s library, fumbling in the dark to tape the fake bugs to the inside of the white silk lampshades. The next person to flip on the lights would be treated to the illusion that huge bugs lurked inside the lamps. I could already imagine the screams that would echo through the house.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I really had to find a way to keep my charge off the internet. Boredom plus an active mind equals trouble. At least it does when your name is Amelia Winters.
Since Amelia was seventy-eight and her hands weren’t as nimble as mine, I got roped into carrying out the pranks she dreamed up. I was supposed to be her nurse, and I was when she needed one.
High blood pressure and type two diabetes meant she needed some supervision, but not enough to require live-in care. Since most of the family had moved out of the enormous house, and Amelia’s great nephew Aiden traveled often for work, I was there to keep her both healthy and entertained.
It could have been a lonely job, if not for Amelia. Her pranks aside, she was a blast to work for – funny and loyal and sweet. Her body was slowing down, but her mind was sharp, and she had a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes too wicked.
The pranks, case in point. At least once a week she came up with a new one, sending me out for materials and instructing me on the details of her plans.
At first, I’d worried she was going to get me fired. Since my husband had died, I’d been bouncing from job to job. I’d been more than ready to settle down when I’d been hired here, and I hadn’t wanted to be kicked out for lining the hallway with tiny cups filled with water.
Amelia might be almost eighty, but her sense of humor was a lot more frat-boy than elderly matron.
Fortunately for me, the family was well versed in Amelia’s ways. Aiden, who’d scared the heck out of me when he’d hired me, adored his great-aunt. She could probably set the house on fire, and he’d laugh and kiss her on the cheek. The rest of them were the same—affectionate and amused by Amelia’s antics. The only two exceptions were the housekeeper, Mrs. Williamson, and Aiden’s cousin, Gage.
Mrs. Williamson and Amelia were chalk and cheese. Mrs. W was far too proper to admit she didn’t love every member of the Winters family, but we all knew Amelia drove her nuts. Amelia, for her part, delighted in pestering Mrs. W. More than once I’d heard her mutter under her breath that Mrs. W had a stick up her you-know-where.
She’d never say it, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. W thought Amelia should give in and act her age. I’d only been with the family for six months, but I could have told her that was a lost cause. By all accounts, Amelia Winters had never acted her age, and at seventy-eight, she wasn’t about to start.
I adored Amelia, and I had to admit, some of her pranks were funny, but I liked Mrs. W too much to let her think her beloved Winters House was infested with six-inch cockroaches. As soon as I’d taped the last fake insect in place, I pulled out my phone to shoot Mrs. W a warning text.
Sometime tomorrow she’d come into the library on a made-up pretext and let out a very convincing scream. Amelia would get her laugh, and Mrs. W wouldn’t have to kill her. Everyone would be happy.
I tapped SEND on my text and went to shove the phone in the pocket of my robe when two arms closed around my chest like steel bars, pinning my hands to my sides.
My phone tumbled from nerveless fingers, bouncing off my bare toes and skidding across the carpet. I froze where I was, my heart thumping in my chest so hard I heard the whoosh of blood in my ears.
Panic shot ice down my spine.
My nerves screamed: DANGER! DANGER!
Head spinning with fear, I tried to think. The long, hard body pressed to my back made that impossible. Eyes squeezed shut, memories flashed against my closed lids, a newsreel of everything I wanted to forget.