Not Husband Material Read online

  Not Husband Material

  Billionaire’s Contract Series

  Violet Paige

  Head Over Heels Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Violet Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Keep in touch with Violet

  Not Husband Material

  1. Jeremy

  2. Evie

  3. Jeremy

  4. Evie

  5. Jeremy

  6. Evie

  7. Jeremy

  8. Evie

  9. Jeremy

  10. Evie

  11. Jeremy

  12. Evie

  13. Jeremy

  14. Evie

  15. Jeremy

  16. Evie

  17. Jeremy

  18. Evie

  19. Jeremy

  20. Evie

  21. Jeremy

  22. Evie

  23. Jeremy

  24. Evie

  My Playboy Crush

  Introduction

  1. Bruin

  2. Jillian

  3. Bruin

  4. Jillian

  5. Bruin

  6. Jillian

  7. Bruin

  8. Jillian

  9. Bruin

  10. Jillian

  11. Bruin

  12. Jillian

  13. Bruin

  14. Jillian

  15. Bruin

  16. Jillian

  17. Bruin

  18. Jillian

  19. Bruin

  20. Jillian

  21. Bruin

  22. Jillian

  23. Bruin

  24. Jillian

  25. Bruin

  26. Jillian

  27. Bruin

  28. Jillian

  29. Bruin

  Epilogue

  My Playboy Fiance

  Introduction

  Prologue

  1. Chase

  2. Haley

  3. Chase

  4. Haley

  5. Chase

  6. Haley

  7. Chase

  8. Haley

  9. Chase

  10. Haley

  11. Chase

  12. Haley

  13. Chase

  14. Haley

  15. Chase

  16. Haley

  17. Chase

  18. Haley

  19. Chase

  20. Haley

  21. Chase

  22. Haley

  23. Chase

  24. Haley

  25. Chase

  26. Haley

  27. Chase

  Epilogue

  Don’t Tell

  Introduction

  1. Kaitlyn

  2. Cole

  3. Kaitlyn

  4. Kaitlyn

  5. Kaitlyn

  6. Cole

  7. Kaitlyn

  8. Cole

  9. Kaitlyn

  10. Kaitlyn

  11. Cole

  12. Kaitlyn

  13. Cole

  14. Kaitlyn

  15. Kaitlyn

  16. Kaitlyn

  17. Kaitlyn

  18. Cole

  19. Kaitlyn

  20. Cole

  21. Kaitlyn

  22. Kaitlyn

  23. Kaitlyn

  24. Kaitlyn

  25. Cole

  26. Kaitlyn

  27. Cole

  28. Kaitlyn

  29. Cole

  30. Kaitlyn

  31. Cole

  32. Kaitlyn

  33. Cole

  34. Kaitlyn

  Excerpt from Don’t Lie

  Cole

  Keep in touch with Violet

  Make sure you download the exclusive Violet Paige short, available here!

  The Crown Short

  Stay connected with Violet’s Vixens

  www.violetpaigebooks.com

  Not Husband Material

  She wants a baby.

  I want my billions.

  Together, we can have everything we want.

  I’ve inherited the family fortune.

  Only there’s ONE hell of a catch.

  I need to find a girl. Put a ring on her finger.

  And here’s the most important part—knock her up.

  Sounds easy, right?

  After all, finding a woman to suck my c*ck has never been an issue.

  It’s not like I have to fall in love.

  Seems like a lucky break when I run into Evie after twelve years.

  She’s all grown up now with gorgeous seductive curves that can take a man to his knees.

  After one night together we can’t deny our chemistry could burn down the city.

  I’ll make Evie my wife and she’ll have my baby.

  But I’m in for an unexpected surprise… what if it isn’t fake?

  What if Jeremy Hartwell has finally found The One?

  The stakes are higher now. If anyone finds out our marriage isn’t real, I’ll lose everything, including Evie.

  But I’m a fighter. I’m the man who will do whatever it takes to make sure she will always be mine.

  Not Husband Material is the first in the Billionaire Contract Trilogy. Evie and Jeremy’s story continues in Not Daddy Material.

  *If you like steamy alpha male billionaire stories, you’ll love Not Husband Material. It’s so hot, you’ll need a glass of ice water by your side. No cheating, a HEA and special bonus books for your reading pleasure.*

  1

  Jeremy

  There were three things I was certain of in my life. I’d never play baseball again. My millions were almost gone. And my father’s reach extended beyond the grave.

  The snow fell, gathering in the corners of the window. The glass was frosted. I couldn’t make out anything happening on the street below the Law Offices of Lancaster & Hudson.

  “Did you hear what I said, Mr. Hartwell?”

  “What was that?” I turned to face him.

  My father’s attorney cleared his throat. “Your father’s wishes. The final part of the will. Do I need to repeat it for you?”

  My mother ran a finger over the base of her throat, skimming her pearls. “Jeremy,” she whispered. “Let’s not drag this out.”

  My tie was too restrictive. I attempted to pry it from my neck. “No, I think I missed it. Why don’t you read it again?”

  I needed to take the damn thing off. I loosened the knot enough to take a solid breath. My ribcage filled with air, stretching the seams on my suit. My shoulders were too broad for this damn thing. Why did my father think I wanted to trade in the life I had for one like this? Stuffy rooms with stuffy attorneys. Board meetings. Fitted designer suits that suffocated my biceps.

  “Really, Byron. I think we can handle this as a family matter from here. Your service is appreciated, however I should talk to Jeremy,” my mother protested. She could pretend to be humiliated. I didn’t buy it. Sylvia Hartwell did everything by design. Every word was chosen for a purpose.

  “No. I’d like to hear it again. I just want to make sure I have my instructions. The final words from my father.” I glared in her direction. Like hell, if I wasn’t going to make this uncomfortable for her too. “Dad’s most parental moment. Right here. On the record for that cute little stenographer to preserve for us.”

  I winked at the girl sitting in the corner furiously translating every word we spoke into the legal record.

  Byron Lancaster had worked for my father since I was a kid. If he was shocked by the contents of the will, he didn’t let on
that it bothered him. He was used to doing the dirty work. It’s why he made more than anyone else who worked in this building.

  “Very well.” The older man pulled gold reading glasses to the brim of his nose. “My sole heir, Jeremy Hartwell, will receive his inheritance in its entirety, totaling half a billion dollars, the Malibu property, the vineyard in Napa, and the hunting lodge in Aspen, upon completion of the following.” Byron continued quickly. “The Hartwell family line will be extended with the addition of a spouse and a child bearing the Hartwell name. Under no circumstances will this marriage be dissolved without a full retraction of the inheritance, to be withdrawn and placed in a trust.”

  “And there you have it.” I slapped the mahogany desk. Byron and my mother flinched. The stenographer temporarily stopped typing. “I’ve been called a stud before, but not quite in this manner.” I pushed off from the leather chair.

  “Jeremy,” my mother hissed. “Where are you going? Sit back down.”

  I reached for my overcoat. It was February, and cold as hell in Newton Hills. “Where do you think I’m going, Mother? I need to get drunk and knock someone up. I just got my walking papers to fuck every girl in this town if necessary. Some girl out there wants to be a part of this fun and happy family, don’t you think?”

  Her mouth fell open. “Come back here. We haven’t discussed this. We need to have a conversation in private. You make it sound so vulgar. So tasteless.”

  I huffed. “I’d love to hear your spin, but I have women to fuck. Thank you, Byron, for your time.”

  “I will send a certified copy of the reading of the will to your address, Mr. Hartwell.” His voice remained monotone as if I had inherited a collection of rare books, instead of a command to sire a child.

  “I don’t know that I need it. The directive seems pretty clear to me. I don’t get the money until I have a wife and an heir. Got it.”

  “It’s my responsibility to make sure you have official copies of all correspondence from the late Mr. Hartwell. It is my duty.”

  “Fine.” I didn’t care if I never heard the words again. I knew I wasn’t getting my inheritance. My father had made sure of that. I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t and never would be husband material. And no one wanted me as a father.

  I nodded and closed the door behind me.

  I ducked into the first taxi I could find in front of the law firm. Uber hadn’t reached Newton Hills yet.

  “Airport, sir?” the driver asked.

  I looked at my watch. I still had a lot of time to kill before my red eye back to New York.

  “No. What bars are still around here?”

  I was downtown, but other than a coffee shop and a deli there wasn’t much open on the small street. Newton Hills wasn’t doing well when I was in high school, and the past twelve years hadn’t done the town any favors. Nestled in the hillside of the Georgia mountains, it wasn’t a Mecca for industry. It wasn’t a Mecca for anything.

  “Bella’s is open,” he reported.

  “The Italian place?”

  He nodded. “It’s about five minutes from here. They have the best chicken parm.”

  I considered my options. I could feast on vending machine snacks in the small airport until my flight, or I could try a bottle of wine at the old Italian restaurant. I used to know the owner’s daughter.

  “Bella’s it is,” I decided.

  He pulled away from the curb. “Hey, I know who you are. Didn’t know if I could say anything.”

  “Oh really?”

  “You’re the Hartwell’s kid. You played Major League Baseball, didn’t you?”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes were on me. “Yes. For a few years. I was on the Ravens then traded to the Hawks. Then injured.” Three years in the majors was better than most guys did. It was a ticket to my own fortune. But I fucked up. I wiggled my fingers, staring at my palm. I hadn’t been a baseball player in a long time.

  “Sorry to hear about your dad. I had a friend who worked at one of his stations. It was a real shock here.”

  I gritted my teeth together. “Thanks.”

  The sympathy was lost on me, but I had been trained to be a Hartwell. I was gracious even when I was angry as hell.

  “I’ve never had anyone famous in my car before,” he sputtered.

  I stared out the window as we passed empty storefronts that used to be businesses. Family-owned and run. The Radio Shack was gone. So was the drugstore, and the ice cream parlor. Newton Hills was almost unrecognizable.

  A red neon light blinked in the front of Bella’s.

  “Here you are,” the driver announced. “Do you think… ” His words drifted. “Could I ask for your autograph? I’d like to show my son I had a real-life pro athlete in my car.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I waited while he fidgeted for a piece of paper in the glovebox. He handed it to me along with a felt tip pen.

  “What’s the name?” I asked.

  “His name is Jordan.”

  “Hmm. Ok. Got it.” I scribbled something more inspirational than my father had ever put in a birthday card, and handed it back to the man.

  “He’s not going to believe it.” He glanced at the signature.

  Seemed like a theme for the day. I didn’t believe what I had encountered either.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I tossed a fifty in the front seat without bothering to hear the charge for the five-minute drive.

  I pulled the collar up around my neck as the snow blew sideways. The bell jingled overhead as I walked into the restaurant.

  2

  Evie

  I used the heel of my hand to blot a tear in the corner of my eye. It was the best way to keep the mascara from smudging. I sniffed involuntarily. I didn’t have a tissue on me.

  “I do understand. I just hoped that I could set up a second payment plan,” I explained. I worked to keep the pleading to a minimum.

  “Miss Rossi, we don’t want our patients to go into unnecessary debt.”

  My throat closed. This wasn’t unnecessary to me. Quite the opposite. It was completely necessary in every way.

  “But I only need one more treatment. I have this feeling, you know? If I could set another appoint—”

  The nurse cut me off. Her voice was soft but firm. “Not until you have a zero account balance. It’s against our policy. I’m happy to forward a copy of the paperwork you signed. This was outlined and explained to you in your initial exam. It’s standard for all patients.”

  I leaned against the wall in the hallway to the kitchen. I could hear Leo screaming something to the dishwasher. I walked outside in my short-sleeve shirt despite the snow. I didn’t want the distractions from the kitchen to interfere with this call.

  “Maybe if I could talk to Dr. Mickson again. She knows my case. She’s worked with me since the beginning. And really, she said I’m the perfect candidate to keep trying. If you’d just consider making an exception this once.”

  Ok. I had given up on not begging. I was going into full-blown groveling mode if I had to. I just needed this nurse to understand what she was telling me. What she was denying me.

  “Miss Rossi, no. Our accountant will be in touch. Until then I can’t schedule any more treatments for you. Call us back when you’re ready to move forward again. Best of luck to you.”

  I stared at the blank screen on the phone. The snowflakes melted instantly when they touched the shiny surface. I wiped it against my shirt before stuffing it into the front pocket on my apron.

  I heard my name through the screen door.

  “Evelyn, you’ve got a guy at seven.”

  “Coming,” I called. There was something calming about watching the snow fall. Even if it was only for a deceptive few seconds. It felt peaceful. Tranquil.

  I straightened my spine and pulled my ponytail higher on my head. I had a way of dealing with a crisis—I didn’t. I’d pretend that phone call never happened. I’d march into the restaurant and serve the customer a
t table seven. It was as if I could pull a curtain down between my heart and my brain. It worked like a charm.

  I would never admit that my last chance to have a baby had evaporated. I wasn’t going to face that I was in debt over ten thousand dollars to the fertility clinic, or that every in vitro I tried ended the same way. With a negative pregnancy test.