The Billionaire Love Match: The Billionaire Surprise, #1

By Emma St. Clair

Does real love stand a chance on reality TV?

The odds are NEVER in your favor. At least, that's what she thought. But when Casey makes the final casting call for a matchmaking show, she holds her breath and takes a chance.

Colt Woods needs to find ratings, not romance. When the show he expected to be all-fake turns all-too-real, Colt has to rethink everything. Especially when his movie-mogul mother tries to script the ending.

In front of cameras and surrounded by fourteen other jealous women, Colt and Casey do their best to let a real relationship unfold.

Can they trust something built on live television or will their relationship run out like fifteen minutes of fame?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kirsten Oliphant
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223569947

Book preview

Chapter One

Casey ducked into the bathroom, leaning against the door. She could hear the pounding of the club’s music outside but was listening for something else—the sound of her ex shouting her name.

Nothing. She had lost him.

She sighed heavily and examined herself in the mirror, wondering how this happened. Lucas somehow found out she was at this event, despite the fact that Casey had been actively trying to avoid him for the last two months. They hadn’t dated for long before she saw his possessive side. Which went into overdrive when she called it quits. He moved quickly from annoying to aggravating and now to obsessive.

How did he even get in? This was an invite-only event for the finalists in the matchmaking reality show she had applied to be on. The month-long shooting schedule keeping her in seclusion was one of the big draws of the show. Not that she expected to make it.

Her makeup still looked great, though the winged eyeliner was a bit much. Her roommate, Amanda, was a makeup artist and had convinced Casey that she needed to step it up a bit.

I probably won’t even get picked for the show, Casey had said. This is overkill. I don’t want to look desperate.

Amanda had given her a look. You could never look desperate, she’d said. Stop undervaluing my skills and your good looks. Speaking of, there’s no way you aren’t getting picked. You’ve got a gorgeous face and a rocking body. And before you say it, your butt is NOT too big.

It’s not supposed to be about looks, Casey protested. This show is a matchmaking show. They had us fill out about ten billion questionnaires, lie detectors, and do six different interviews. No one mentioned needing a rocking body. Or a big booty.

Amanda had just rolled her eyes. Whatever. It’s a TV show. It’s always about looks. Looks and drama. So we’re going to get you looking the part.

After she’d finished, Casey had to admit that she looked good. Not quite like her normal day-to-day, which consisted of mascara (maybe) and lip gloss. But it wasn’t too extreme either. Amanda had given her some tips for doing her own makeup and packed a small bag of essentials in Casey’s rolling suitcase, which was somewhere inside the club. After the announcement of which women and men would be on the show, taping would start immediately.

Did she still want to be picked? Casey blew her long blond bangs to the side. She wasn’t sure anymore. It was an impulse decision to apply right after she broke up with Lucas.

The ad had come up on Facebook: Unlucky in Love? Find Your Perfect Match!

The ad went on to explain just the cursory bits. It was a reality show, but based around extensive personality tests to help them meet someone truly compatible. Plus there was payment, something that also fit well since Casey had just quit her barista job, hoping a change in routine would keep Lucas off her back. He didn’t seem to understand the word no. If finding another apartment in a hurry that she and Amanda could afford wasn’t an issue, she would have suggested they move also. But this was LA.

The show ticked off several boxes: a paycheck, disappearing for a month to escape Lucas, and—Casey hoped—it might help her build her following to sell more books. She had been trying to make it for two years as a full-time author. People loved her cozy mystery novels and they each had at least fifty four- and five-star reviews, but they were only selling a few copies per day.

As much as she hated to admit it, any fame from the show could help her get some traction. Even though she wrote under a pen name, it would be easy to still use any of the attention she got from the show to point to her books. All she needed was to get the viewers to fall in love with her. If a guy did too, well, that was a bonus.

But that wasn’t likely. Casey doubted she could find love without the help of a reality show, much less WITH one, where everything was clearly fake. She was, as Amanda and her own parents constantly reminded her, a terrible judge of character. Maybe having matchmakers help her out would actually work. Someone else could do all the hard part of picking out the right guy for her. But falling in love within a four-week span of time? Not possible. Plus, she was a Christian. Dating shows had overnight dates and bikini dates and generally weren’t geared toward people of faith. More reasons she wouldn’t get chosen.

Speaking of, she probably needed to get back out to the announcement party. They were going to reveal the contestants in just a few minutes. Not contestants—Potential Love Matches. The shy intern with glasses had explained the show’s jargon to her during the interview process.

We’re looking for Potential Love Matches. Got it? he asked.

I guess, she’d said. I mean, YES!

He had laughed, then dropped his voice to a whisper. It’s okay if you have doubts. Just keep them quiet, he’d said. I’m Mark. I’ll be on set the whole time if you ever need a private debriefing. Then he had put a finger to his lips.

She had laughed and patted his hand, mouthing thank you. When she touched his hand, he had blushed.

Casey was glad to have at least one person on set she could trust, just in case she did make it. She had no illusions. Even though the show sounded like a departure from the normal dating show, it all kind of boiled down to the same thing. As Amanda said, people watched TV for cat fights and drama.

What had she gotten herself into? She should probably walk out the front doors of the club right now. She didn’t need a TV show to make it as a writer. Just time and hard work.

As she was about to pull open the door, it slammed open. It didn’t hit her, but surprise knocked her back as a handsome guy flew in through the door. He had the perfect amount of stubble and hazel eyes. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were more brown or green, but they were big and framed with long dark lashes. Casey was a sucker for eyes.

He instinctively reached out an arm to steady her. The touch was momentary, but the light contact set off a chain reaction in her body, sending blood rushing in all directions. She yanked away and stepped back.

Hey, buddy, Casey said, crossing her arms. I think you’re in the wrong bathroom.

He regained his composure and brushed back his dark hair. Leaning back up against the wall next to the door, he crossed his arms, mirroring her. Only he looked amused, not annoyed. Everything about him looked somehow perfect. Too perfect. He had the kind of messy hair that she knew cost a pretty penny to get cut and styled. Even his T-shirt and jeans somehow looked expensively casual. Like he had paid big bucks to look like he didn’t have big bucks. She was used to giving people names as a barista and one came to her immediately for this guy and his perfectly polished appearance: Mr. Casual.

You sure? he said. With a crooked smile he gestured behind her. A row of urinals lined the wall.

Casey gasped and covered her mouth. How did she not notice when she walked in? But she knew how: Lucas. She had been in such a hurry to escape him that she hadn’t paid attention.

Casey!

She swung around to face the guy, who still had an amused expression on his face.

How do you know my name? she asked. But he hadn’t been the one who said it. She heard it again, faintly, but getting louder, now right outside the door.

CASEY!

Lucas.

Her eyes widened and she looked around in a panic. There were stalls, but none of them had doors. She could only think of one thing to do. It was a terrible plan. But it was all she had.

In two strides she crossed the room to grab Mr. Casual by his expensive looking T-shirt. The cool look was gone, replaced with total shock as she swung him around, putting her back up against the wall and pulling him close to her.

Sorry about this, Casey said.

Green, she realized. His eyes looked green with brown flecks.

And then she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

For a tiny moment he resisted, but almost immediately began to kiss her back. The electric current she had felt when he touched her arm had nothing on this kiss. She felt it in places she didn’t know existed in her body. Places that didn’t seem to relate to kissing at all: the inside of her elbow, her lower back, the top of her foot. She didn’t need to keep pulling him toward her as he was now leaning even closer to her, his hands cupping her face.

She had started it, but he had taken control, his lips both tender and passionate, pulling her deeper, closer. Everything disappeared. She couldn’t feel the wall behind her back and the sound of the club faded. There was only this moment, this kiss. His fingers now touched her neck, her collarbone, back up to her cheeks.

The door slammed open again next to them and they pulled apart, both breathless. For a brief moment they locked eyes. He looked every bit as shocked and smitten as she felt. The kiss had made her completely forget the reason that she had pulled Mr. Casual close—to hide her face if Lucas came through the door. Which he now did, barreling past two burly guys who stood just outside.

And then Lucas pulled him backward by his shirt and punched him in the jaw.

Casey screamed and the two burly guys from outside burst in, grabbing Lucas. But not before he got in a second good punch.

You slut! Lucas shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. He looked like a wild animal and for a moment Casey felt actual fear. She had never seen this level of rage. Over time he was escalating, not slowing down.

The two big guys must have worked for the show because they were wearing earpieces. They held Lucas fast. No easy feat since he was over six feet and worked out seven days a week.

Sorry, one of the guys said to Mr. Casual, who was bent over, holding his face. He pushed right by us. We’ll get him out of here.

Okay, Mr. Casual groaned.

As the guys dragged a still-screaming Lucas out of the bathroom, Casey realized she had been frozen to the spot, her hands shaking. Now as Lucas’ curses and screams faded, she could only hear Mr. Casual’s groans.

She crossed the room, putting a hand on his back. He flinched and jerked away. Then realizing it was only Casey, tried to regain that practiced casual look. Only now his eye was swelling up and he had a thin cut in his jaw.

I’m so so so sorry, Casey said. Can I do something? Here, let me get something for the blood.

He stood then, and they were almost as close as they had been a few minutes before when they shared that incredible kiss. Her heart started racing, but his eyes were wary now. She backed up and wet a few paper towels from the sink.

The bathroom door swung open again and a short guy with spiky blond hair looked shocked to see them both standing there.

GET OUT! Casey and Mr. Causal yelled at the same time. The guy disappeared through the door.

She smiled faintly as she brought the paper towels to him. Here, she said, reaching up to wipe the blood from his chin.

He grabbed her wrist, sending sparks flying down her arm. Blood or no blood, she wanted a round two with his lips. It took control not to lean in again. Was he hesitating as well? But he took the paper towel and dropped her wrist. He walked away to the mirror. She reminded herself to breathe. This was crazy. She never acted like this.

Casey looked down at her shoes. She was wearing her favorite cowboy boots, a soft brown with turquoise stitching. Amanda tried to convince her to wear heels, but these were more her style. She didn’t want to pretend to be someone else for a guy or TV or anything else.

I really am sorry, she said.

Yeah, you said that.

She peeked up at the mirror. His hazel eyes locked on hers. Now they looked more brown than green. His right eye was puffy and looked terrible.

Your face, she whispered. She looked back down at her feet, feeling the start of tears. This is all my fault.

No, she couldn’t cry. That was her one promise to herself about this show. It would be a challenge since Casey cried over greeting card commercials and movies and even her own books sometimes. But she had told herself that she was going to be different on the show. Even though the cameras weren’t rolling yet and might not be—especially now—she would not break this promise to herself.

What I’m trying to figure out, he said, is if you apologized first because you knew what was about to happen.

Casey’s eyes flew open and she turned to him. He had his back to the sink now, leaning up against it with his narrow hips, arms crossed over his T-shirt. Blood spattered the front of it.

No! I would never have done…that if I knew. I was just trying to hide from my ex and I panicked. I thought if he glanced in, he would just see a couple making out and miss that it was me.

That was your ex? That guy is a maniac. You should get a restraining order. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? He took a step toward her, but stopped. His eyes were filled with compassion and a concern that sent a flush up her cheeks.

No, I’m fine. Really. He kept his crazy locked in the closet when we were dating. Apparently I have bad judgment when it comes to guys, she said.

That’s an understatement, Boots.

Boots?

He nodded to her shoes. Boots. I like them. And I don’t know your name, so…

Thanks, she said, feeling a warmth spreading in her chest. He gave her a nickname. This thought made her ridiculously happy. And again, I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry for his sake. He did that all on his own. As for the few seconds just before he interrupted…

Her head shot up and she saw that he was grinning. And looked just as good with a puffy eye and cut chin as he had before. She had a sudden urge to touch his face and realized she was staring at his lips again. His smiled widened and she looked up to see him watching her face. A blush immediately hit her cheeks.

His smile dropped, replaced almost instantly with a smoldering look. I wouldn’t mind reliving that, Boots. He took a step forward. You?

I wouldn’t mind, she said, her voice cracking.

Casey’s heart felt like a jackhammer. He took a slow step toward her and then another, not breaking eye contact. She wished he would hurry and yet loved the anticipation of watching him cross the room toward her.

The door swung open again and Casey jumped as the two bodyguards entered the room. The moment was broken. She could feel the attraction stretching out between them. The two bodyguards must have felt it too. They looked at her, then Mr. Casual.

What was she doing? She needed to get out of here. Casey didn’t kiss guys in the bathroom. Especially when she didn’t even know their names. She could count on two hands the number of guys she’d kissed, ever. She turned and almost ran for the door.

I’m sorry, she said over her shoulder as she brushed past the bodyguards. I really am.

I’m not! he called after her, even as the bathroom door swung shut behind her.

As Casey was enveloped in the sound of the club, a smile plastered onto her face. Even if nothing else came of trying out for the show, that kiss was worth it all.

Chapter Two

Colton, what happened to your face? We’re going live in less than ten minutes!

His mother looked shocked, but almost immediately Colt could see the wheels turning in her head. Only his mother could find a way to spin his injuries to benefit the show. As she leaned closer, her cloying perfume in his face, he pushed her away.

Just a mix-up, Colt said. Of the best kind, he wanted to add. The lingering effects of the past twenty minutes clung to him. He felt the coursing of adrenaline after the punch, and something alive and electric and exhilarating from the best kiss he’d ever had. With some girl he didn’t even know. He needed to know her.

Her eyes narrowed and she picked up her cell phone. We need ice, she said into it. Then, facing Colt again, she said, I think you mean a dust-up.

Both are pretty accurate, he said.

A moment later his mother’s assistant Nancy popped her head in with a bag of ice and handed it to his mother. Anything else you need, Grace? Nancy asked.

Tell makeup to get back in here. We’re going to need to do…something.

Colt grabbed the bag of ice from his mother before she could try to put it against his face herself. She never had been the nurturing type and he hated when she tried to fake it. Thanks, he said tightly.

Colt sank into a ratty leather couch that had seen better days. He stared up at the wall beside him, which was covered with signatures from bands that had played this club. What was he doing here?

But he knew what he was doing here. He had been over it time and again in his head, trying to find a way around playing right into his mother’s hands. Grace Beacon was the most powerful movie executive in Hollywood, sitting at the helm of BeaconWood entertainment. She went back to her maiden name after the other half of the company, Colt’s father Steve Wood, died of pancreatic cancer eight years before. Colt had been only seventeen.

Within six months, his mother had pulled BeaconWood out of the financial hole it had been nosediving into while his father was alive. Within four years, her net worth was billions.

BeaconWood, known previously for family-friendly entertainment and educational films, had pivoted hard and fast into summer blockbusters and huge productions. Big sets, big stars, big profits. Then two years ago Grace set her sights on the small screen, producing four out of the top ten most-watched shows on network TV. She was in the middle of brokering a huge deal with a streaming entertainment company for a new show. Colt’s show.

A dating show? he’d said to his mother a few months before. You must be out of your mind.

Look, sweetie, she said, it’s just business. We need a face for the show. Someone who will draw the ratings and solidify the success. If this streaming deal works out the way it will with you as the star, it’s the final piece I need for the BeaconWood legacy.

Colt had rolled his eyes. He was sick of her talking about the BeaconWood legacy, which seemed to have very little to do with him and a lot more to do with multiple zeroes. "No, Mom.