(Escorting the Billionaire #1)
Publication date: April 30th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Love don’t cost a thing…except everything.
When billionaire mogul James Preston hires an escort as a date for his brother’s wedding, he knows he’s taking a risk. One thing he won’t be taking? The escort’s clothes off. He just wants a date—not a girlfriend. Not a relationship. No strings. No ties. No games. No sex. He has his reasons. He lost someone he loved, and isn’t interested in trying again. Too many opportunities for mistakes or worse, heartbreak.
Audrey Reynolds became a high-end escort to keep her brother in his expensive group home. James Preston is the client of her dreams—he’s offering to pay her more money for two weeks than she’s ever made before. But James is…difficult. He’s gorgeous, troubled and all too human for Audrey’s business-like tastes. Determined to complete her assignment and collect the money, Audrey tries to play by James’s rules. But before she knows what’s happening, he’s rewriting the contract.
When Audrey ends up in James’s bed, he realizes that she’s everything he’s wanted…and everything he’s been running from.
This is PART ONE of the Escorting the Billionaire New Adult romance trilogy. It is novella-length (30,000 words) and has a wicked cliffhanger.
She turned around and looked at me, biting her lip.
“Can you sleep with me tonight? No sex,” I said, holding up my hands. “I promised you—and even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t ask you like that. I just want you to stay with me.”
“Like a sleepover?” she asked, a little skeptically, but she looked pleased.
“Yes, like a sleepover. Just don’t try to put a mud mask on me or put warm water on my hand. That would piss me off,” I said.
“Let me change. Your room or mine?”
“Mine,” I said. “I have the best bed.”
“Of course you do,” she said.
* * *
She came in a few minutes later in those pink sweatpants again, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked so beautiful and innocent it made my heart actually hurt, and I wasn’t technically sure that I even had a heart.
“Hey,” she said and sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re still in your clothes.”
“I wasn’t sure what you were going to wear,” I admitted. “I wanted to show you some solidarity and dress similarly.” I got up and pulled out an old Wharton T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. “Is this okay?” I asked.
“It’s fine, James. I approve of the flannel.” She scooted up on the bed and grabbed the remote off the side table. She turned the flatscreen on and switched the channel to NESN, the New England Sports Network.
I was pretty sure that I still had a heart because it felt right then like I loved her, at least a little.
* * *
Later, after an hour of sports news, we turned out the lights.
“No sex?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said. I paused. “Why are you asking?”
“I just don’t want this to be awkward. If we’re not doing it, let’s go to sleep.” She rolled over onto her side, toward me.
I rolled over toward her, too.
Eight hours later, I woke up holding her hand.
Leigh James writes contemporary romance with a healthy dose of action and adventure. In addition to writing, endlessly re-watching “Pitch Perfect” and scouring the house for leftover Halloween candy to eat, Leigh is a wife and mother of three.
She is a magna cum laude graduate of the University of New Hampshire’s Journalism program and earned her J.D. from Suffolk University School of Law in Boston.
She lives with her husband and children in New Hampshire.
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