Love Stuck: Big City Billionaires, #2

By Michele de Winton

When fashion week meets wall street, ties are gunna fly.

When Sass Hunt loses her stylist job, again, she pulls out every favour she's got left to find an A-list client to start her own agency. But when she has a session with Investment Banker, Kirk Proudman and he laughs her ideas out the door, her brave face starts to slip.

The last place she wants to be at is her friend's wedding, especially when she finds Kirk's name on the guest list. Feigning illness once the service is over, she leaves early, only to find Kirk has had the same idea and is waiting at the lift. The lift breaks down and with tendrils of claustrophobia threatening to freeze her bones, Sass does what she always does and opens her big mouth, letting Kirk know exactly where his boring, conservative attitude is going to get him in a social media savy world. With nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, he listens. He talks her down as she starts to panic and they find that their connection is more than what they wear on the outside.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michele de Winton
• Release date: Oct 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9780995108905

Michele de Winton

Michele loves sunshine, chardonnay, (preferably together), chocolate, beaches, trees, great vegetarian food, steamy writing and happy endings. She’s been known to be an all-round arty type, dancing and producing theatre around the globe so it's no wonder that her first romance had a little sparkle of the stage tucked into its pages.  Being a writer was not was she was supposed to be when she ‘grew up' but then neither was being a dancer. Her poor parents. They thought that when she toddled off to law school they'd bred a responsible, useful adult and instead they got a performer and word junkie. Sometimes her performing past jumps into the dress up box and requires attention. But most of the time she’s content to stay in her PJs. All day. She writes surrounded by the whisper of trees from her home in New Zealand and with only intermittent interruptions from her two young sons and husband. (Okay more like regular interruptions, but dreaming is free.) You can check out her other work or get in touch at www.micheledewinton.com Thanks so much for reading! Luck Stuck the next book from the Big City Billionaires Series is coming September 2017. To find out about this, and other work ranging from Motorcycle Gangs to Dream Destination Romantic Comedy, follow Michele on Facebook or twitter or sign up to her newsletter for updates, giveaways and bonus reads.

Book preview

Books never live in isolation so a huge thank you goes out to all the readers, bloggers, writers, librarians and book lovers across the world. You are what make this job so great. Thanks especially to Talia Hunter for reading this in super quick time and always having my back.

1.

I can't believe she fired you. Are that woman's eyes painted on? You've got to be the best stylist this side of Manhattan.

Sass Hunt toyed with the cream organza she’d helped her friend Cara pick out. Maybe, she said when she was finally able to get something polite out. Maybe all those mocha lattes have made her blind.

Cara laughed. That’s more like my girl, Cara said and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. I thought I’d lost you there for a while. You don’t need Helen Bernstein babe. You got this.

Sass plastered a wide smile on her face and pushed the creeping fear back down her throat. She did have this. One step at a time and she would be okay.

Losing her job at Helen Bernstein's top end Stylist Consultancy had been a body blow. Even now, a month later, it felt like she'd been punched in the neck, and if she let them, the slimy hands of depression clambered out from wherever she’d last left them, determined to squeeze all the hope out of her heart. But keeping busy helped. Planning Cara’s wedding outfit had been just the distraction she needed.

Cara gave a twirl, checking herself in the mirror. I know you didn't think I should have gone with the cream, but I had to do something to appease my mother. I'm telling you, you have the best eye for clothing of anyone I know. Every time I wear one of your outfits all my juniors want to know where it came from. Thank God you moved back into town, just when I needed to stop looking like a lived in a dumpster. You've got a gift, but then you already know that.

Shame my gift doesn't come with a bank account stuffed full of cash.

Sarah Hunt. You stop that right now.

Sass froze. Her old school friend never called her by her full name.

You're fantastic, and you know it. You're going to get through this rough spot. Jeez, I'd probably be turning up to my wedding in a frothy mess of tulle if it wasn't for you.

You're hardly that style challenged.

Thank you. But remember my mother? She wants me to have the wedding she never had. And that includes me in a meringue dress and sparkly tiara, ideally with a silk scarf tucked somewhere on my outfit. If you hadn't talked her down, I'd be in full sparkle-puff-girl mode right now.

Sass laughed, finally. It was true, Cara's mother was a force to be reckoned with and her penchant for wearing a silk scarf with...everything...was legendary. Sass liked her friend's mother, though. The woman was tough as an alligator leather purse, and she'd helped more women in business than Helen Bernstein had consumed caramel mocha lattes. And her old boss drank at least two of the sugary drinks before her first client every day.

Honestly, you're going to do great with your own consultancy, said Cara. Your new website looks fantastic. Now you just need clients. Where are you at with the guys Joe sent through?

Sass smiled. Thank goodness for girlfriends. Especially girlfriends who were about to marry outrageously rich men with stupidly rich friends. Cara's fiancé had sent her through a bunch of names to approach as new clients for Hunters and Collectors, her new consultancy. Cara had convinced Sass that she didn't need Helen Bernstein or anyone, so she was going out on her own. Only trouble was, no one had heard of her. Hardly surprising given she’d only been in New York a year. And if she didn’t get her shit together, and fast, no one ever would cos she’d be heading back home to Mesa, Arizona.

One of them came back and asked for a consultation. Kirk Anderson, have you met him? He seems... Sass dropped her voice. "Rather conventional."

Cara's screwed up face told her all she needed to know.

That bad?

He's lovely, deep down. He and Joe have known each other for years. But I wouldn't have picked him for your first client. Guy's face is so clean shaven I figure he ducks out at lunch to make sure his chin is silky smooth and I don't think I've ever seen him wear anything other than a grey suit with a pale blue tie.

Being clean cut isn't a bad thing. Smooth skin on a guy is great.

To kiss, sure, Cara gave her a wink. I love Joe's sexy stubble, but I love to kiss him straight after he's had a shave. When his face is all soft and warm and...

Enough, thanks. Sass held up a hand. It was good to see her friend happy, but it only brought home how crappy her own life was looking in comparison. For a second the hands of darkness started to cloud her vision and pick apart the color in front of her. No, wait. She was not her mother. She was not going to wallow in this. Sass glanced down at her wrists, where her twin tattoos were a permanent reminder of how far she'd come to get here, and how easy it would be to slip back into depression. The black circle tattoo on her left arm was the hole she'd fallen into two years ago. It was a full stop to remind her how close she’d come to letting the darkness take over. But the brightly inked butterfly on her right arm, its body made up of a semi-colon, always cheered her up. It was her talisman; proof that she chose to keep going. She chose the light. And it reminded her of the way she'd felt when she'd come out of an almost deadly spiral into dark depression: free, like flying.

She was going to move onwards and upwards. Starting with Kirk Anderson. He's going to make the perfect first client, she said. "A clean-cut blank canvas for me to work magic on. No one can be as uptight as he sounds on his registration and own Anderson’s Finance. He must have some charm to keep such a big conglomerate like that running."

Either that or he just makes his shareholders and staff a shit-ton of money, Cara said.

So, he's good at his job. Good for him. I'm great at mine too, she said so forcefully even she believed it.

Later that night, in her apartment, she opened Kirk Anderson's registration and pulled a notebook toward her to take notes as she went through the boxes on the form.

How would you describe your personal style?

Smart, simple and classic.

That was good, wasn't it? A true blank canvas to start from? Classic was something she tried to avoid. To many people, all it really meant was that they wanted to be safe. But she’d reserve judgement until she met him. That was only fair.

What would you consider the perfect night out?

A reservation for one at Molly’s.

No mention of being with anyone special. No mention of exactly what he'd like to eat. And no mention of what he'd do with the rest of the night after he'd finished his meal. Sass looked up Molly's. It was an exclusive Italian place. Reservations booked out months in advance. Sure, it was pricey, scanning the menu it looked like a glass of wine was more than a week’s rent, but for a man of his resources, it was a modest concept of perfection.

She made a note, Quiet but perhaps not reserved.

Did he lack ambition or was he scared of what might be lurking outside his apparently small world? He can't lack ambition, Sass muttered to himself. He makes enough to bankroll a small country. She scrolled to the next question.

What are the three words that your colleagues would use to describe you?

Efficient. Intelligent. Focused.

That was pretty much