Buying a Bride: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

By Cassandra Dee and Kendall Blake

Melanie’s mom is a schemer. One day at a bar she meets billionaire Aaron Black and propositions him on behalf of her daughter. To Mrs. Conway’s surprise, Mr. Black agrees – his fortune in exchange for a month with her daughter.

Aaron Black is used to buying what he wants. Fast cars, gorgeous women, and big houses are par for the course. So why not a bride? It’s the next logical purchase for the billionaire. But what he doesn’t count on is getting a curvy girl with a mind of her own and a feisty spirit that leaves him craving more.

Hey Readers -- This is a mouth-watering romance between our innocent virgin and an alpha billionaire with a dirty mind. But if you’re looking for a good time, then this book is gonna satisfy your need for heat! As always, read with an ice cold drink nearby :) Enjoy! Love, Cassandra and Kendall

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Dee Romance
• Release date: Jan 19, 2020

Book preview

Buying A Bride

~A Contemporary Romance~

By Cassandra Dee and Kendall Blake

Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

© 2018 Cassandra Dee and Kendall Blake

Follow Cassandra on Facebook

Follow Kendall on Facebook

Join our Facebook group Alpha Males on Top

DEDICATION

To all the girls who deserve something amazing.

This one’s for you!

NOTE FROM CASSANDRA AND KENDALL

Hi! Thanks so much for reading Buying A Bride: A Contemporary Romance. I hope you enjoy the steam between Melanie and her man.

Plus, be sure to join our Facebook group Alpha Males on Top to hear about new releases, discounts, and freebies.

Love,

Cassie and Kendall

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Buying A Bride: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

Melanie’s mom is a schemer. One day at a bar she meets billionaire Aaron Black and propositions him on behalf of her daughter. To Mrs. Conway’s surprise, Mr. Black agrees – his fortune for a month with her daughter.

Aaron Black is used to buying what he wants. Fast cars, gorgeous women, and big houses are par for the course. So why not a bride? It’s the next logical purchase for the billionaire. But what he doesn’t count on is getting a curvy girl with a mind of her own and a feisty spirit that leaves him craving more.

Hey Readers -- This is a mouth-watering romance between our innocent virgin and an alpha billionaire with a dirty mind. But if you’re looking for a good time, then this book is gonna satisfy your need for heat! As always, read with an ice cold drink nearby :) Enjoy! Love, Cassandra and Kendall

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Buying A Bride

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Sneak Peek: Pregnant By My Boss

Chapter One

Sneak Peek: My Boyfriend’s Boss

Chapter One

Chapter Two

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Chapter One

Aaron

Why am I even here?

With all the money in the world, I’ve wound up in this dive bar.

I sighed before ordering another vodka tonic. At this point, alcohol was the only way to take the edge off. As I waited for the bartender to fill my order, I glanced around the Surly Wench. It was an obvious hole in the wall, with sticky floors and grimy counters.

Just the kind of place I’d always taken care to avoid.

I don’t belong here.

To be honest, I’m more of a Four Seasons high-end fancy hotel bar type of guy. But here I am, for better, for worse.

While everyone is savoring the start of the weekend, chatting away about their nine to five jobs, I’m sitting here, all alone, in a designer sports coat and wing-tipped shoes imported from Italy.

Well, I say ‘everyone’ but there’s a whopping five other customers total, all grouped around the dinky pool table. It’s so beat up that the green felt lining has turned beige and one of the legs is completely missing – someone sawed it off, believe it or not.

Some things you just don’t try to understand.

One man, dressed in a worn biker jacket, leaned forward to make his shot. He closed his left eye as he aimed but his pool stick was so crooked that the cue ball veered in the opposite direction. His buddies hooted with joy, swigging down their beers. Next came a skinny girl with bright red hair pulled into two pigtails. She moved slowly, and a small smirk painted her lips as she rode the bank straight into a pocket. Some of the men whistled, clearly impressed by her skill.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted.

Here you are, the bartender announced. Is there something else I can get for you, sir?

No.

With a nod of her head, the bartender walked away to the opposite side of the bar where she diligently worked on cleaning grimy looking glasses. No matter how much she cleaned them, they still looked dirty – just like everything else in this place.

Again, I wondered why I was here.

Maybe it’s my depression kicking in.

I don’t get it, though, because I have no reason to be depressed. I have everything I could ever want – a billion-dollar company, a mansion, and a garage full of luxury cars. What else is there to life?

But lately, I’ve taken to drinking and hiding out in seedy dive bars where no one recognizes me.

I took a sip of my drink, downing most of it in one swallow.

It burned my throat, which was exactly what I needed. After all, cheap alcohol does that. It’s nothing like the black label stuff I have stocked in my personal bar, but today for some reason, I couldn’t stand the idea of drinking all alone. At least here, I could watch other people leading semi-normal lives.

It was comforting, in a way.

Before I could take another swig, someone new walked in. I turned in my seat as the bell chimed over the door.

She was an older woman, in her mid-fifties. Her face was puffy and drawn with sun damage and fine lines that showed in the dim bar lighting. She was a drinker, no doubt about it. Besides, she was already stumbling over her own feet as she made her way to the bar. I ignored her. I didn’t have time for middle-aged women clad in skinny jeans and revealing tops. It’s not my thing.

So I stared down at my drink, wishing this weight on my shoulders would disappear. I had to find a way to get out of this rut. Clearly, spending my time in shitty little bars wasn’t going to help but for now, it was my only solution.

At least it kept me sane. Sort of.

Suddenly the woman knocked into me, colliding straight into my back. I braced myself against the counter and grabbed the sticky surface to prevent myself from crashing down to the floor.

Oh! I’m so sorry, honey. She spoke with her words drawn out and slightly slurred. I didn’t see you there. A giggle escaped her lips. There aren’t many people who sit down at this bar. She trailed off and I could tell she was waiting for my reply.

I didn’t say a peep.

Sorry, again.

I nodded.

Aren’t you going to say something? she asked, hand on her hip, lips pressed together in a hard, disappointed line. It seemed I had offended her. Great, just great. Exactly what I needed.

What would you like me to say? I finally broke my silence, my voice deep and gravelly after a night of drinking.

I don’t know. You can start by accepting my apology.

I have.

She narrowed her eyes in my direction, clearly unconvinced. You aren’t mad I bumped into you?

No. It’s fine. I’ll live.

A smile painted her face. Her teeth were tinged pale yellow. She was definitely a drinker. Without another word, she clambered onto a nearby stool with as much grace and poise as a flopping fish.

This woman was a mess.

And it was only midnight.

I would hate to see what she’s like in a couple of hours.

With nothing else to do, I downed the rest of my drink. I knew I should get going but whenever I looked up, I saw the woman still staring at me. Obviously, she wanted to talk.

Okay, we’ll talk. It’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m already at this grimy little bar. I might as well make the most of it.

Fuck.

What’s gotten into me?

I really needed to get my shit together.

I’m Aaron, by the way. I said, holding out my hand in her direction.

She stared at it, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Right. Too formal. She probably thinks I’m trying way too hard.

Finally, she clasped her hand with mine, squeezing it tight.

Name’s Miranda.

Nice to meet you, I responded, accustomed to polite trivialities. Business meetings were chock full of them despite most people hating each other. Then again, most businessmen are sharks, and I’m no exception.

I’m going to be honest with you… She leaned in, placing a hand on my arm. You seem like a nice guy but I gotta say, you seem… how should I say this? Kind of lost? Her speech was crude and jumbled like it was taking her brain a long time to funnel information to her mouth.

Lost? I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Yeah, you know, lost. She nodded.

I don’t think I follow.

She leaned in even closer and a cloud of alcohol tumbled from her mouth. Lost… like… you don’t belong here. Every other guy in here is wearing a leather jacket, but you? What is this, cashmere or something?

Suede, actually, I corrected her. She made a face.

Suede? Who wears a suede jacket to a bar?

It’s a blazer. I started but then I stopped myself. Actually, it doesn’t matter.

Hmm, I guess so. She nodded in agreement. So, tell me, Aaron, what brought you in here?

I hesitated to answer. I didn’t know this woman. Why would I share my life story?

I just needed a drink. I finally said, erring on the side of caution. When you’re a billionaire like me, it’s best to keep things private. The less people know the less likely they are to screw you over. But maybe I’m being a bit too cynical.

A drink, huh? I’ve heard that one before. I wouldn’t mind one myself, she suggested.

The gentleman in me took over. Immediately, I hailed the bartender, ordering another round of vodka tonics.

Thanks, she said with a smirk. That was mighty nice of you.

Don’t mention it.

You know, if I had to guess, something’s bothering you.

No.

She chuckled. You can deny it all you want, but it’s written all over your face. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Gently, she patted my hand with her cold, dry one. We’ve all been there at one point or another. In fact, I’m right there with you.

The drinks arrived.

As soon as her glass touched the counter, she picked it up, tilted her head back, and slugged it down.

Damn.

That’s…impressive? I didn’t actually know what to make of this woman. She was different from the well-kept women I saw on a day to day basis. Miranda had a wild edge to her that made me a bit wary and yet, the more time I spent with her, the more relaxed I became. Her sheer crudeness was like a sting of fresh air.

So, what’s eating you, Gilbert Grape? An ex-girlfriend or something?

I shook my head. Honestly, I don’t know.

Ah, she nodded. That’s the worst, isn’t it?

I ordered her another drink.

I’m lucky, in a way, you know.

Why’s that? I asked. Really? She thought she was lucky? It didn’t seem like it, given her grizzled appearance and obvious drinking problem. But the woman was one step ahead of me. She let out a sigh before looking me straight in the eye.

Because at least I know exactly why I drink too much.

I shot her a skeptical look.

It’s my late husband, she proclaimed. I miss him so much. Even in the darkness of the bar, I could see the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. Or maybe her eyes were just glassy from too much alcohol. But now, Miranda was caught in her own world.

Yeah, she continued, eyes growing murky with the memories. He was a great guy. Love of my life. I loved him to pieces, I did. But in the end, he was still a dumbass. A big fucking dumbass. She shook her head, fingers tightening around her empty glass.

The bartender returned.

Together we downed another round of drinks. I held up a hand to signal for more, and the bartender responded with a subtle nod. Good girl.

As the night progressed, I drank more than I wanted to. I was talking far too much with Miranda, the alcohol loosening my vocal cords.

So, you going to tell me why you’re here or do I have to kick your ass in pool? Miranda asked, jutting her thumb in the direction of the green velvet table.

Please. I shook my head. You wouldn’t catch me near that piece of shit.

We both burst into laughter.

What? Are you too good for it or something, Mr. Hotshot?

Actually, I am, I said wryly. I’m Aaron Black, CEO of Tucson Technologies. They call me the Tuscon Terror sometimes.

Usually, I don’t throw my name around, but again, too much alcohol is dangerous. Miranda clapped with delight before she finished off yet another drink. I shook my head.

They say all sorts of crap, but I built my business from the ground up. Got my first loan when I was eighteen and funneled every single penny into a startup venture. Thinking back on it now, I could have made a huge mistake and driven myself into a mountain of debt but somehow, everything worked out.

That’s good, Miranda nodded, swaying slightly in her seat.

But now I have everything and look at me, I snorted. Drinking all alone in a bar like this.

Miranda shot me a sympathetic look.

It’s love, ain’t it? Or lack of love. Trust me, I can sense it from a mile away, she proclaimed, taking another swig from her glass.

I shook my head.

Naw, I’ve never been in love. It’s not my thing.

But the older woman wasn’t convinced.

How do you know if you’ve never had it? she asked wryly, the creases around her eyes getting deeper. Man, her skin was so leathery from decades in the sun. Let me tell you, young man, you’re missing out. Me and Harvey? Well, I still miss him to this day, she said, growing teary again. I was about to console her in my own awkward way when suddenly, the woman straightened abruptly.

You know, she started, eyes growing bright. I have a daughter. She’s really pretty, smart, and single.

I shook my head. Everyone tries to set me up, and I always say no. Blind dates with a young, pretty airhead with an eye on my wallet? No thanks. My time would be better spent with a working girl who knows her place.

No, seriously, it’s not necessary, I began. But it was too late because Miranda was on a roll.

I’ll tell you what. You’ll like Melanie, I promise. Why don’t I hook you two up? I can offer you Melanie for three months. That is, if you pay me a million dollars, she added slyly.

What the hell?

Let me get this straight, I began. "So you’re selling your daughter to a man you just met for a million dollars? A dude that you literally just met in a bar?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

Miranda cocked her head, as if deep in thought.

Okay. Well, when you put it that way, it sounds awful. But still, what do you say?

I stared speechless, as the older woman dug through her pockets. With clumsy fingers, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through photos.

This is her, Miranda slurred. She raised an eyebrow at me. What do you think?

Reluctantly, I leaned over for a look. To my surprise, the girl was more than just pretty – she was gorgeous, with chestnut curls and big brown eyes. Something stirred inside of me, and I had to force myself to look away.

That’s her? I growled.

Yeah. She’s pretty, just like I said.

I thought about it more. Life has kinda sucked lately, and I was caught in a funk that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of. Everything was going great on all fronts, except for that unknowable something. What was it? Was it this? If I hooked up with a sweet, pretty teen for a month, would the blues go away? Hell, why not? After all, a million dollars wasn’t much to me, and if I didn’t like her, I could just pack her up and send her home, no biggie.

Sure, I said nonchalantly. You’ve got yourself a deal.

Miranda squealed unbecomingly, the sound like a chicken with a rock caught in its throat.

Yee haw! she shrieked before breaking down into a hacking cough. You got yourself a deal, Mister!

And with that, the wheels for this dirty deal were set in motion. A pang of conscience made me sit up for a moment. Something told me this wasn’t going to end well, but I ignored it because I’m Aaron Black. I control my environment, and this dirty deal? It was no exception. I’d come out on top with my motors revved … and that was what mattered.

Chapter Two

Melanie

Finally.

It’s the end of the day and the start of the weekend.

It had been one of those long weeks – the kind that make you insane as they endlessly march on. I definitely needed a few days of rest and relaxation.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. My job isn’t even bad. It’s just tiring. I work at nice little pizzeria called Harry’s on Fourth Avenue. It’s on the corner of Main and Second, right in the heart of Tucson. Here, there are more than fifty bars and restaurants packed into two or three streets. Main Street was the luxury street with upscale eateries and valet parking.

Some days, it looked like a whole other world. A world of pomp and extravagance I’d never experience.

Oh well.

The life of luxury isn’t for everyone, I suppose.

Besides, I don’t think it’s suited for me. I’m not really a high-end kind of girl. I like to keep things simple. Most of the time, I’m perfectly content with the little things in life like a new book or an extra-cold drink with my meal.

Speaking of which, I was ready to dig into this historical novel I picked up at the local bookshop. It retold the backstories of famous pieces of artwork from the Mona Lisa to The Starry Night. As an art history fanatic, I was excited to see the creative path the writer would take.

Eagerly, I took off my apron and hung it up for the night. Home was so close I could taste it, and I grinned as I made my way to the back of the restaurant.

Bye, Melanie! one of my regulars waved before slipping out the door.

Bye, Fred! I called after him with a smile. The nice thing about this job was that most of my regulars tip really generously.

When I stepped into the back of the restaurant the rest of the wait staff was already hanging out, sharing a few slices of leftover pizza.

Hey, Mel. One of the waitresses offered me a slice.

I shook my head.

She shrugged. Suit yourself.

Are you going out with us tonight, Mel? another waitress asked.

No, not tonight. I answered, opening my locker and pulling out my jacket.

Aww, why are you in such a rush to go home? You never go out with us! she pouted as the rest of the staff groaned in agreement.

Sorry, guys, maybe next time, I responded quickly and waving as I headed out the door.

A little while later, I stepped off the bus a few blocks away from my apartment. With my hands in my pocket, I hurried along the sidewalk. I always hated this part of the night. Even though I lived in a decent enough neighborhood, I could never shake off the thought that someone was watching me and about to jump out of the shadows for nefarious reasons.

I was probably just being paranoid but all those crime shows on TV had to be based off something, right? And I didn’t want to become the next statistic.

Finally, I reached the apartment I shared with my mother.

On the porch I struggled to find the keys. I rolled my eyes as I plunged my hand deep into the cavernous space of my bag and fumbled for the cold metal. By the time I got them out, I was shivering.

Then I had to fight with the lock. It was sticky, and the key jammed nine times out of ten. The landlord knows, but he definitely doesn’t care.

Typical.

I would just have to give him another call in the morning. Or maybe just fix it myself. How hard could it possibly be?

Suddenly the door sprung open by itself, nearly causing me to lose my balance. I shook my head and ran my hand up the wall, turning on the lights.

Sigh.

Once again, the apartment was littered with empty bottles. They were strewn everywhere. I swear, if there was a way for them to stick to the ceiling, they’d be there too.

My shoulders sagged with fatigue. All I wanted was a nice long bath and some time in bed with my new book. But it looked like that would have to wait: if I didn’t clean up, no one would.

As if a twelve-hour shift waiting tables wasn’t enough for one day.

Honestly, my mother belongs in rehab. After my dad passed away, she hasn’t been the same. It started off with a couple drinks here and there, but it’s turned into full-blown alcoholism.

But on the other hand, rehab is

Reviews for Buying a Bride

[Alysha · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Okay, I went into this book with an open mind and though the plot was a bit weird and really, really, really unrealistic, I kept going. But, the minute I got to the part where he said he wanted to have sex with her and she agrees I had to stop. 1. Her mom literally sold her off to him while in a drunk stupor. 2. Both characters talk about love or falling for one another after not even KNOWING eachother for a full day. 3. She’s a 22 year old virgin who is drop dead gorgeous yet decides to give her virginity away the second he says he wants to have sex with her. 3. The characters are as bland as a saltine cracker. I could keep going but gah, this was terrible and I wasted my time reading 100 pages of it.