Billionaire on Board: Beach Billionaires

By Saskia Hart

She is at work. He wants to play.

Desperate for money, Nora joins her best friend, working on a billionaire's yacht and sailing the beautiful islands of Phuket. However, friendships and hearts are tested with the arrival of Brent; the billionaire grandson of the yacht's owner. Can Nora resist the call of her heart to save her job? 

You will laugh and cry as you join Nora on this heart tugging adventure in paradise. Billionaire on Board is a sweet, wholesome Romance that introduces the Beach Billionaire series.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunningdale House
• Release date: Aug 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201744083

Book preview

Billionaire’s Yachtie

CHAPTER 1

Nora stared at the dirty table, nose wrinkling in disgust. Plates heaped with half chewed chicken bones, glasses smeared with greasy handprints, cornbread crumbs. She sighed, setting a scarred brown plastic tray on a wooden stand and began scraping plates, grimacing as she lifted a soggy corncob from the middle of the table. Ugh, people were such pigs. She glanced at the clock; the hands had barely moved an inch since the last time she checked. Six more hours, and she had piles of homework to complete after the shift. End of semester deadlines sucked, especially this semester. Determined to save money by any means possible, Nora had piled on the credit hours to finish fall semester instead of spring. Using her wrist, Nora swipes a tendril of bright auburn hair attempting to escape her elastic ponytail holder.

Excuse me, excuse me miss, we've been waiting ten minutes for extra fried chicken. Is it arriving soon, or should I go to the kitchen and fry it myself?

Nora's bright blue eyes shot to a spot two tables down. A woman sporting tight jeans and an expensive designer t-shirt frowned at her.

I'll get that chicken now, ma’am, Nora said, forcing a polite smile. Wiping damp sticky fingers on a paper napkin, she scampered to the kitchen, grabbed a plate of fried chicken from the warming table and sped back to the woman’s table.

My sweet tea is empty too. the woman said, stiffly sprayed blonde hair bobbing as she gestured to the mason jar glass.

Nora lifted the empty glass, wishing people would make requests at the same time instead of pointlessly sending her on extra trips, and filled it from the pitcher at the servers’ station. Anything else, ma’am? she asked.

I could use a sweet tea top up also, piped another woman from the party. Nora clenched her teeth, accepting the glass and running back to the service station. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a group of college age boys assembling at her last empty table. Ugh, college boys—messy and demanding, with enormous appetites—they were the worst customers. Snatching the last few plates from the table she'd started clearing, she piled them onto the tray for the busboy to collect later and strode over, straightening her  frilly Ruben’s Rest polyester apron as she walked.

I'm Nora. Welcome to Ruben's Rest where we serve southern style family meals. Are y’all familiar with our regular menu? Nora said, reciting the familiar spiel with a pasted on smile. Besides being untidy and ordering endless refills, college boys rarely tipped well.

Hey, we got a pretty one. What did you say your name was—Laura? A pair of lazy eyes scanned Nora's head to toe. She squirmed inside her dark green ruffled apron, the polyester ties suddenly tight against her waist and neck.

Nora eyed the speaker, sporty, blonde, confident in the most obnoxious way possible—Nora noted the expensive watch and designer shirt before returning her gaze to his face, automatic smile still  firmly in place. It's actually Nora. Now, what can I get ya’ll to drink? Our sweet tea is amazing. We make it the old-fashioned way.

The big blonde jock smirked. Brent, did you hear that? Sweet tea the old-fashioned way.

Nora rolled her internal eyes. College students could create innuendos about anything.

Shut up, Rocky. Tea's fine.

That must be Brent, Nora thought, her eyes travelling to Rocky’s seatmate. A shock of familiarity raced through her; she’d seen those dark eyes somewhere before. She jerked her eyes away, flushing.

Do you all want tea? Nora asked, completing a rapid headcount.

Brent flashed a smile, displaying a dimple in his left cheek as he elbowed Rocky. Yes please.

Flustered, Nora rushed away and delivered the tea before hurrying back to the first table. Tight jeans lady wanted dessert, three sweet tea refills, and the check so she didn't have to wait later. After scrambling to take care of them, Nora escaped to the kitchen, grabbing a cheese biscuit out of the metal warming drawer and chewing it while leaning against the kitchen wall.

Ruben’s Rest is slammed today, Raul said, joining her. He stuffed an entire cheddar biscuit in his mouth, wincing from the heat.

Nora wiped her forehead with her arm. No kidding, late October is the worst. The place is crawling with fall foliage leaf watchers.

Plus I see you have Brent's table, Raul said.

You know those guys?

Yeah, Brent worked here two years ago. Told us his dad wanted to teach him a lesson. They have a big summer house on the lake, and he used to throw parties there. Raul rolled his eyes. Got fired after a month. Old Mister Rueben caught his friends TP'ing the sign and spray painting the guest cabins. He wasn’t involved, but close enough contact for Mister Rueben. Decent guy, but his friends are jerks.

Nora popped the last bite of biscuit in her mouth before brushing crumbs from her hands. Wow, what did they spray?

Raul smirked. Ruben's Chest. Changed the R to a Ch.

Nora giggled. I'd have loved to see Mr. Ruben's face when he saw that.

Order ready, number three, four five, Adrian, the cook, called from the kitchen.

Got to go. Catch you later, Raul called, grabbing a giant tray of food and heaving it onto his shoulder.

Nora grabbed a plate of fried chicken and a stack of extra napkins. One of her tables was running low, and she returned to the restaurant floor, checking the clock as she swung open the door. Five hours and forty-five minutes to go.

There she is, and with more chicken, too. Brent’s jock buddy announced in a loud voice as Nora approached, bearing the fried chicken platter an setting it in the middle of the table with some paper napkins.

That's good. I like my girls to bring things before I ask, Rocky added, reaching for a drumstick. Cheddar biscuit crumbs scattered across the table as he knocked a piece of chicken from the platter.

Nora raised an eyebrow. I'm not your girl, though, am I? she said, a warning note threading through the teasing voice.

Rocky sulked as his friends laughed. She told you Rocky, said one as Brent shot Nora an apologetic look, sipping his tea as Rocky wolfed down a chicken leg, grabbing another with a pouty expression.

More tea? Nora said crisply, noticing the empty glasses.

You got anything stronger? Rocky asked.

Nora shook her head. Ruben’s the last dry town in Georgia, she said.

It's okay we brought... Rocky started, before Brent shot him a warning look.

Nora shrugged, pouring another round of tea. As long as they were discreet and behaved, she didn't care what they sneaked into their tea.

Stop staring, you're drooling. Nora heard Rocky mutter to Brent as she left with the empty pitcher. Nora's cheeks flushed as she rushed off, cursing her pale complexion for betraying her reaction.

Don't let those boys get under your skin, Debbie said as Nora scooped bowls of peach cobbler in the back kitchen. Just smile and hope they tip well.

Nora nodded, pressing the button on the soft serve ice cream machine, topping the steaming cobber with a swirl of soft vanilla ice-cream, then carefully balancing the tray as she maneuvered back to the dining floor.

Hey, peach cobbler from the Georgia peach, one of them yelled, drawing irritable looks from the next table.

Nora gritted her teeth, setting down the tray and doling out the cobblers.

Let me know if you need anything else, she said in her most pleasant voice as she tucked the empty tray under her arm.

Just the check, Brent said. With a nod, Nora handed him the check she'd prepared, her eyes meeting his as their fingertips brushed. She whipped her hand away at the unfamiliar contact, stuffing it deep in her pocket.

Thanks, Brent said, pulling out a shiny black credit card.

Just pay the bill in the reception gift shop, Nora said. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to go.

See you tomorrow, Rocky said in a singsong voice.

Nora spun, questions in her eyes.

Shut up, Brent said, punching Rocky's arm.

After another polite smile, Nora shrugged off the comment, returning to the kitchen.

After polishing off their desserts, they left. Nora glanced at the clock again. Four hours, forty-five minutes to go, she thought, piling dirty dishes onto yet another tray.

Good tips tonight, Raul said, grinning while Maureen, their manager, counted out the money. Nora watched as she sat in a wooden chair, resting her tired feet.

Yes, a group left double the amount of their bill on their credit card, Maureen said, snapping a rubber band around each pile and handing them out.

Who's table? Diego asked, folding the money and tucking it deep in his pants pocket.

Maureen shrugged, Not sure, you'd have to ask Kerry at the gift shop. Think it might have been that group of college boys. You know, the sporty ones?

Nora stifled a yawn as she untied her soiled apron, folding it over her arm. Oh yeah, I remember them. See you all tomorrow?

Aren't you coming out with us? Party at Samuel’s tonight, Raul asked with a hopeful expression.

Sorry, I've got assignments due, Nora said, her chest tightening. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done something just for fun. When she wasn't working, she was studying. Even with student loans and academic scholarships, UGA was expensive. Nora shrugged her wool coat over clothes heavy with the smell of fried food and gravy. She'd have to wash her hair before class in the morning, she thought, giving her red ponytail a rueful sniff. She walked across the cold dark parking lot to her car, an old blue Honda. Nora turned the key, and the car wheezed to life. That rattle was steadily getting worse. Nora switched on the radio to cover up the sound before leaving the parking lot.

Home was twenty minutes down the road. A wooden house tucked on the side of a hill. She shared the place with Julie, her roommate and friend. The house was half an hour from UGA campus. It belonged to Julie’s dad, which meant Nora’s rent was dirt cheap, but Nora couldn't travel home for lunch between classes.

Nora shed her coat as she let the door bang shut behind her. Julie kept the house warm because she liked to walk around wearing teeny tiny shorts all winter. She filled a mug with water and put it in the microwave before choosing a tea bag—green with lemon and cranberry. A stack of books sat on the coffee table to complete her assignment for East Asian studies. The degree was so close she could almost taste it.

Nora took her tea and perched on the couch, draping a crocheted afghan over her knees and cracking open her laptop. She'd finish her Economies of Southeast Asia, and Ethnography of Technology into Social Groups assignments, then go to bed. Stifling a yawn, Nora read a paragraph three times, struggling to absorb the information into her foggy brain.

Hey Nora, have you been back long? Julie appeared, wearing plaid flannel pyjamas and a towel wrapped around her head. She plopped on the couch, throwing her feet on the coffee table. I was about to watch the Bachelor, you in?

Sure. Nora wasn't a huge fan of the reality show but knew Julie loved it. She tuned out the squeals and chatter of excited contestants as she focused on her assignment. Two hours later, Nora’s head ached even though the television was switched off when Julie disappeared to bed. She yawned, placed her empty cup in the sink, threw her used tea bag in the trash, and went to bed.

A persistent noise reverberated in Nora's brain, and she jerked upright, duvet clutched around her shoulders. The alarm—the second alarm. Nora rushed to the bathroom, washing her hair in the world's fastest shower. Leaving it wet around her shoulders, she threw on the first clothes she grabbed: the crumpled t-shirt she wore to bed and a pair of sweatpants. She jerked fluffy socks over damp feet before shoving them into a pair of Converse. Her curly hair would be a mess, but she’d twist it in a bun before class.

I made coffee, it's in the pot, Julie shouted as Nora rushed to the kitchen.

Thanks. Nora grabbed her thermal cup and filled it to the brim. The lid was loose, and she had meant to replace that mug, but never had time to get around to it. Nora carefully set it into the cupholder before turning on the car, flicking on the radio to hide that stupid rattle, and speeding toward Athens, Georgia.

Parking was always a hairy situation on UGA campus. Nora cruised around parking lot, searching for an empty spot. There, at the end, three rows down, Nora shot across the parking lot, eyes fixed on the empty parking space. If only she could snag that space, she would be on time.

Bang.

Nora's head jerked back. The thermal cup with the dodgy lid flew across the car, soaking her sweatpants and coat with coffee, first hot, then soggy and cold. Shaken, Nora stared at the spreading stain, gradually realizing someone was knocking on her window.

What, who? Nora asked, looking up. Her blue eyes colliding with a pair of brown ones.

Good, you're okay. Sorry about that, a smooth deep voice said. A rich voice; old money. Nora recognized the accent. Deep and smoky like aged whiskey.

Nora blinked, staring at the familiar face. Brent—the Brent from the restaurant last night. Where did he come from?

I guess I should be more careful. I've left a huge dent in your car, Brent continued.

My car. The pieces fell together with sickening clarity. Brent had hit her car. The car she desperately needed for work, school and everything else in life. Nora wrenched her car door open, shoving Brent out of the way to check the damage, tears rising to the surface at the sight of a deep scratch gouging the faded paint.

Look, I can fix that scratch. I mean, your car’s easy to find parts for, and they’re not expensive, or you could replace it. Can’t be worth much, Brent continued, eyeing the aged vehicle.

It's worth a lot to me, Nora said, clamping her lips together. She couldn't afford to leave the car in the shop—even for a day. She had finals, papers, assignments, work. Nora needed to attend every single class, plus pay rent and other upcoming bills. She needed to drive to work.

Nora narrowed her eyes, flipping her fiery mane over her shoulder to glare at Brent.

Brent raised his hands, taking a step back, Whoa, sorry, I promised I’d pay for the damage. We don't even have to call insurance. A hint of defensive wariness bled into his tone.

Nora crossed her arms over her chest.

Look, at least start the car and see if she runs, Brent said, casting a nervous glance around the parking lot. Students walking to their morning classes were throwing them curious looks.

Fine, but first I'm getting your license number and information, Nora said, sliding her phone out of her pocket.

Brent rolled his eyes as Nora snapped a picture of his plates, then got back in her car and turned the key, revving the engine.

Does your car always sound like that? Brent asked, throwing the rickety vehicle a dubious expression.

Yes. Nora huffed. We can't all afford... whatever that is. She shot a pointed look at Brent’s shiny, brand new vehicle.

A Tesla, Brent answered.

That. Some of us are normal, you know. Nora turned the engine off.

All right, no need to get your panties in a twist. How about I send you cash? Will that cover the damage? that anxious expression returned to Brent's face.

What about your car? Nora asked, giving the gleaming black vehicle another look.

No one cares, and I've been wanting to upgrade, so it'll work in my favor, Brent answered, shrugging.

Nora's eyes flicked to his face, noticing a dimple in his left cheek and hating herself for thinking it was adorable. She sighed. Okay.

You will. Brent grinned, deepening the dimple. Nora's eyes flicked away. Stupid dimple.

Sure, but I'm late for class, so we'll have to sort the details later.

Brent whipped his phone from his pants pocket, flicking it on and thumbing through his apps, No need to wait. Send me your info and I’ll Venmo.

Nora sent him her info, watching his strong capable fingers fly across the screen,

Is six thousand enough? he asked.

Nora's eyes widened at the amount. Honestly, that’s way too much, she said, horrified.

Brent shrugged. Go ahead, take it. I get a decent allowance. Maybe you can buy yourself new sweatpants. One side of his mouth turned up in a teasing smile, as he tapped on his phone.

New... what..? Nora glanced down, realizing at some point between her house and now a giant hole had appeared in the faded, coffee-stained fabric. She flushed, the pink creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

Look, I've got to park. I'm meeting my academic advisor and I can't be late. Brent shoved the bills into Nora's hand and closed her fingers around them.

Academic advisor? Nora asked.

I do attend school here. Brent swung into his low-slung vehicle, propping his elbow on the window. With a wink, he shot past Nora, whipped into a free space being vacated by a red SUV before hopping back out. See ya. Brent tipped his chin at Nora before sauntering up the pavement.

Still in shock, Nora parked her car, biting her cheek in frustration when she realized she'd be twenty minutes late to class. Professor Finbar too. He was the worst with latecomers because he thought it was hilarious to grill anyone brave enough to tiptoe into the classroom after he started lecturing. Nora `flicked on her phone, looking at the numbers in her account. He hadn't even flinched at the payment, just assumed he could buy his way out of the unpleasant situation. Nora gritted her teeth as she stared at the number. Six thousand dollars, just like that. As easy as he was tipping a busker. Nora stuffed the phone into her purse and headed to class.

After three back-to-back classes broken only by a hasty packet of barbeque flavored chips obtained from a nearby vending machine, Nora stumbled back to her car hungry and exhausted. One more stop before going home.

The stop Nora looked forward to the most.

And the least.

CHAPTER 2

Nora drove past a faded sign with brown letters spelling out Green Meadow Home, parking in front of a long red brick building. She strode to the double glass door, pressing the intercom buzzer and waiting until a receptionist released the door lock with a loud click.

The lobby was silent, smelling vaguely of antiseptic. Nora's shoes squeaked on the faded industrial rubber floor as she walked under flickering fluorescent lights toward the scarred wooden reception desk.

You're a wonderful sister, Nora, Florence said, adjusting the floral collar of her blouse. Nora scribbled her name under Mrs. Virginia Smith on the yellowed sign-in sheet. Nora set down the ball-point pen, handing the blue plastic clipboard to Florence.