(Eligible Billionaires, #1-9)
Publication date: December 27th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance
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Praise for Can’t Buy Me Love:
“Marr delivers a great story, the thrill of romance, and sexy love scenes in this often delightful novel.”
—Romantic Times Book Review
“Maggie Marr does it again! Can’t Buy Me Love is an entertaining hot and heavy high stakes Hollywood love story that’ll keep you turning the page! ”
—Jenny Gardiner, #1 Kindle Best Selling Author, Sleeping With Ward Cleaver
“Sharp, sexy prose and a fast-paced plot make Maggie Marr’s Can’t Buy Me Love a very entertaining and steamy read! Romance readers will love this book! ”
—Jane Porter, Best Selling Author, Flirting With Forty
“Readers will delight in Meg and Cole’s sexy, romantic and charming love story and will find themselves touched by the kind of passion and vulnerability it takes to bring these two ambitious people together for a lifetime.”
One Night for Love (Eligible Billionaires Book Two)
“I want it harder,” Prim said. A grunt came from behind her. “God, yes.” Warmth pulsed through her body and tingles shot from her spine and into her limbs. “Yes, deeper, deeper.” The warmth in her core puddled. Her muscles loosened. Her eyes closed. She soaked in the pleasure of a strong, hard touch. Stroked. Kneaded. Rubbed.
This was paradise.
“Lady got too much tension in her shoulder.” Layla’s hand, supple with oil, trailed along the fine vertebrae of Prim’s neck. “Muscles still knotted in here”—her deft fingers pulsed along Prim’s left shoulder—“even after six days of massage.”
Air whooshed from Prim’s lungs. She opened her eyes and stared at the terra-cotta-tile floor beneath the massage table. What could she say? Even with the sun, surf, and sand, she couldn’t forget her huge mess of an existence in California, which she would return to tomorrow.
“Lady’s lower back is still tight.”
Layla’s fingertips fanned out and Prim felt the tension in her back melt. Relaxation oozed through her.
“Lady needs to be with a man.”
Prim jerked her head from the circular cushion. “A what?”
“Head down.” Layla pressed on the back of Prim’s head. “A man. Lady needs to be with a man to release the tension in her body.”
Prim resettled her forehead and cheeks against the cushion. Her sex life, or lack thereof, wasn’t something she really wished to discuss with her masseuse. Of course, Layla’s hands had been all over Prim’s body for the last six days. The morning massage was a high point of Prim’s existence at Mesquale. She’d spent the past six days trying to relax, trying to forget about her career disappointment, and trying to prepare for the unwanted reality she was about to return to.
“Thought lady would find a friend by now,” Layla continued. “Every morning I walk up to house and think this is the morning pretty lady has no more tension here.” Layla’s thumb dug deep into the muscle of Prim’s left shoulder.
“Oooow,” Prim whined. Layla’s thumb hurt so good.
“Lady is pretty. She is young. She has beautiful body. Not married. No kids. She has private house, private beach at resort.” With each word, Layla rubbed her hands deeper into the muscles of Prim’s back. “She on holiday without man, but plenty of men at resort on holiday without a woman.”
Prim closed her eyes. Layla was beginning to sound more and more like Prim’s mum in London.
“So why, I ask, why has lady, while she here, not found friend to take care of all the tension in these muscles?” Layla pulled the heavy, heated towel up over Prim’s back and took her strong hands and stroked down Prim’s left leg.
“God, yes,” Prim whispered between her teeth.
“You not answer me.” Layla laughed. “Maybe lady not know answer.”
“Men are pigs,” Prim said. There were two Prim wanted to gut right now.
“You’re not having sex,” Layla said. “I feel it in your muscles. I see it in your joints. Too tight. No sex.”
Prim’s sexual frustration bubbled through her body and replaced the relaxation that Layla’s hands had provided.
“I just haven’t found anyone,” Prim said. “No one that I want to be with.”
“Don’t have to keep the man, just have to use the man. Don’t keep the pig for a pet, just use it for what you need.”
Prim smiled. She liked the way Layla thought.
Layla tickled Prim’s right toes. “Done.”
Prim sat up and pulled the sheet around her body.
“Lady leave tomorrow?” Layla asked. She wiped her hands on a towel.
Prim nodded. “Early. I return to work on Monday.”
“Maybe you get lucky tonight. With all the massage, your muscles are ready for a man. The heat will explode for you. Maybe you find one at Devils and Angels?”
Prim screwed up her face and shook her head no. “Not going.” She slid from the massage table. “Leaving early tomorrow morning, spending the night here.”
Layla’s smile slipped from her face. “Lady must go.” Her gray hair was twisted in long coils around her face. The skin around her eyes was etched with tiny wrinkles, but Prim could neither tell her heritage nor, for certain, her age. She seemed timeless. “Someone you must meet. I feel it in your body.”
Okay. A little too much voodoo with the massage. Prim reached for the envelope she’d prepared and handed it to Layla. “I can’t thank you enough for this week. You’ve made my body feel…” Prim pulled the sheet tighter around her torso. “Well, you’ve made my body feel better than it has in years.”
“Eighteen months,” Layla said. “It’s been almost eighteen months since you’ve been with a man.”
“How do you—?”
“You still not believe what my fingers feel? I can feel it all in your muscles, in your bones. We carry the body through life, and life … it infiltrates all of the body.” Layla said the words as if they were obvious facts. “You go tonight. You meet someone, take away the tension these hands can’t reach.” Layla hefted her bag of massage oils over her shoulder. “You go.”
“Not going,” Prim said again and followed Layla toward the door. “But thank you.”
“You are going,” Layla said, a smile plastered to her face. “The man who will take the tension from you will be there. You will find him tonight.”
Prim’s smile remained fixed to her face. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She’d had similar conversations with Layla over the course of the last six days, and instead of arguing or trying to explain, Prim had simply nodded and smiled. The last one was when Prim had emphatically denied that she would go snorkeling but then she … had?
Layla’s smile remained on her lips as she descended the front stairs. She raised her hand and waved over her shoulder. “Lady have fun time tonight. More fun than the last eighteen months.”
Prim closed the door behind Layla. She was not going to the party at the resort’s disco tonight. She’d already scheduled an early dinner and she had to pack. Her flight was leaving early for Los Angeles, and the car was scheduled to pick her up before sunrise. Prim walked to the open French doors. The surf pounded the shoreline. A breeze gently lifted her hair from her shoulders. Beautiful. Luxurious. Glorious. Relaxing.
The muscle in her left shoulder tightened. How was that happening? Layla had worked on Prim’s body ninety minutes a day for six days. How could there still be tension in any part of her? Her hand clasped her shoulder and she pressed her fingertips deep into the muscles. The tension was because of the two pigs in Los Angeles. One a seller and one a buyer. With one stroke of a pen, they’d both upended the carefully crafted life Prim had worked toward.
Ryan Murphy had ruined Prim’s future. He’d sold Metro Media to that old codger of a man, William Rhodes. Why would a seventy-year-old man who’d made his money in steel suddenly have an interest in a media company? If only Ryan had told Prim he was considering the sale. If he’d given her even a little time, she could have found a way to buy Metro herself. Since she’d arrived at Metro, her ultimate goal had been to run the company—perhaps even own it. After years and years of hard work and sacrifice, that goal was now lost to her.
Prim looked out at the sand of her private beach. She’d resigned when she discovered that Ryan intended to sell Metro Media. Eventually she’d forgiven him. His grief over Paloma had tainted his judgment. He’d not been rational. He’d come to Prim’s home and begged her to stay for three months as part of the transition team. She’d grudgingly agreed.
Prim closed her eyes. A breath of fresh air tinged with salt entered her lungs. She opened her eyes and exhaled. Twelve hours of paradise remained. Twelve hours without the sharp changes that would inhabit her life for the next three months. The sheet that wrapped around her body dropped to the ground and Prim stepped out onto the deck, now naked and free.
She’d needed this time to prepare herself. She’d needed to be alone to think and to process the inevitable changes she’d confront when she returned to work Monday. Prim stretched her arms up over her head and let the sun warm every inch of her skin. She hadn’t been naked on her beach the entire time she’d been at Mesquale. Not once. But today was the last day. Why not be wild? Why not be free? Why not go to the Devils and Angels party at the disco tonight? After six days of sun, surf, and sand, she deserved to be completely relaxed and totally free.
—Marilyn Brant Author, A Summer in Europe
Maggie Marr is the author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She writes smart, sexy, women and the men they love. She got her start in Hollywood pushing the mail cart at ICM, but quickly rose through the ranks to become a motion picture literary agent. As well as writing, she maintains a boutique legal practice dedicated to the needs of creatives & entrepreneurs. She is the current President of Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) and legal adviser to the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA). Maggie loves all things pop culture and when she isn’t taking care of her clients or writing she can be found reading, chasing kids, or exercising her rescue pup.