Meeting a Billionaire: Nights with an Alpha Billionaire, #1

By Peggy Forbes

Jack is a handsome billionaire. Working for his father's company as a stockbroker, Jack's life is empty - until the day he walks into an all night cafe and meets Kate, a struggling actress who is trying to make it big in on Broadway and help to prop up her best friend’s dying theater. After Jake meets Kate and makes her the offer of a lifetime, Kate begins to think that life in the big city just might be turning into the perfect life. Kate agrees to his proposed deal which states that Kate be in his keeping for three nights in exchange for thirty thousand dollars. But there is one circumstance, they are not quite dating. 

As the story unfolds, Kate realizes that there is more to Jack than money and loads of attraction. He has a secret that he is not willing to share. Is he the liar her suspicious roommate suspects? Will Kate be able to discover what this forbidden billionaire hides before their three nights are up? And, bottom line, will she be able to spend three nights with him without falling for him? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Romantic Fiction Press
• Release date: Sep 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536553390

Peggy Forbes

Peggy Forbes is a small town Oregon girl who loves to gaze at the Cascades when she's not writing, painting or gardening. Her stories center around adventue and desire and the far away fantasies that offer an exciting escape. Her best friend a soulmate keeps trying to whisk her away to the Big Apple, but she's content to write about such adventures. Stay updated on her latest releases at http://www.romanticfictionpress.com.

Book preview

The first time I saw Jack, I was a complete mess.

My blonde hair, which was usually straightened into silky thick strands for the many theater auditions I went on was naturally wavy that day and pulled up into an exceedingly messy bun.

My makeup had faded so that my freckles stood out brightly on my pale skin. And, my blue eyes, which I usually carefully enhanced with shadow and liner, were droopy and blood shot.

It had been a very busy week. Everything on my body ached. And that did mean everything right down to the parts I didn’t even know I had. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of work, auditions, piano bars and no sleep.

Well, okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. The day Jack and I met, I had managed to get two hours in before I had to go to work for my midnight shift. My boss, apparently, didn’t understand staggering shifts. Or, well, he did when it came to everybody else. Just not me.

And apparently I was not supposed to talk to him about it. I had tried that once, didn’t work.

Kate, I give you the shifts I give you because that’s what I need. he said, If you don’t like it, work somewhere else.

I thought about it. I really did. But, there were so few jobs that would let me work either very early mornings or very late nights and no shifts during the day.

The reason for I couldn’t work the same hours as normal people was, at the time, I was still trying to make it on the great White way.  I needed regular hours for auditions and shows (though, after five years, this seemed like wishful thinking). Though, I did do shows at my Friend Amelia’s theater which, at the time, was in dire need of all hands on deck. See, it was not pulling in as much money as Amelia thought it would when she took over from her parents. So, I was there to help her out in addition to everything else I had going.

That was why my eyes were bloody and there were dark circles beginning to protrude from them. I was only glad that not too many people would be forced to see me in this sorry state.

The Yalta cafe, the small cafe in Tribeca where I worked, was one of the few 24 hour, seven days a week places left in the area. It was incredibly small. Just larger than most apartments in the city.

It was made up of about 10 tables, two booths towards the back and one bar with six stools, behind which I stood during my shift. After about 10 pm, very few people came in to the cafe. The ones who did, were all so predictable that I had stopped fretting about