Country Love (A Billionaire BWWM Romance) (18 page)

 
 

Epilogue

 

Monique

 
 
 

The soft strum of
Tanner's guitar filtered in through the bathroom window, every so often
interrupted by a happy shriek from Silas as he tore across the front lawn as fast
as his fat little legs would allow. I tucked the positive pregnancy test into
my pocket with one last fond look at that little blue line.

 

Then I went to
find my husband and tell him.

 

He was in his
favorite deck chair, of course. His long legs were slung up on the railing and
his brow was furrowed as he plucked his six-string. I recognized the look.

 

"You working
on a new song?" I called out.

 

Tanner looked up
and shot me a wide smile. "Caught me red-handed," he grinned,
stretching his arm out. I went to him immediately.

 

"Is it for
me?" I teased.

 

"Well now,
I'm not so sure about that. Last time I wrote a song for you, you were pretty
critical."

 

"I was
not!"

 

"You don't
call vomiting a pretty strong negative response?"

 

I socked him in
the shoulder and he laughed. "Okay fine, you caught me. It's for you, it's
called 'Her Daddy was a Thief But She's The One That Stole my Heart."

 

I pressed my lips
tightly together and wound up, then socked him hard in the exact same place. He
grunted and smiled and rubbed it pensively. "I deserved that," he
said.

 

"You
absolutely did."

 

"Nah, baby,
I'm playin' with you. It actually is about you," he said, his tone softer,
and gentler.

 

"It's called
"Something to Last Forever."

 

I snuggled down
into his shoulder and looked up at our son as he toddled towards us. "I
got something for you too," I smiled pulling Silas onto my lap.

 

Tanner smiled.
"Baby, I want to see my present, but you and Sy Guy here are crushing my
arms. I can't move."

 

I snuggled my son
and pressed myself tightly against Tanner's chest, savoring the moment with the
three of us. The wrapper of a pregnancy test crinkled in my pocket, but he
didn’t seem to notice. Soon, our little family would be a little bit bigger…

 

"I guess
you’re stuck," I teased, kissing the underside of his chin. "Because I'm
not moving."

 

His eyes
twinkled. "That a promise?"

 

"I already
made you that promise," I said, nodding towards my wedding ring. "But
yeah, I'm not going anywhere." I kissed his cheek and then kissed Sy's
curls. "I'm home."

 
 
 

The End

 
 
 

Dear Mia Caldwell Reader,

 

I wanted to let you know that I appreciate
each and every one of you. Your support and love have given me the chance to
live my dream and become an author.

 

To show you just a bit more appreciation,
go ahead and turn the page. I’m including a full and complete copy of The
Billionaire’s Desire, my bestselling BWWM Romance novel.

 

I hope you like it, and I hope you keep
reading!

 

-Mia Caldwell

The Billionaire’s
Desire

 

(BWWM Billionaire Steamy Romance)

 
 

[email protected]

 

www.amazon.com/author/miacaldwell

 
 
 

© 2015 Mia Caldwell

 

All Rights Reserved. This book or
any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

 

This book is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is
purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s
imagination.

 

Please note that this work is
intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as
18 or over.

 

Kindle Edition

 
DEDICATION
 

This
book is dedicated to Theresa. You know why.

 

-Mia

 
 
 
 
 

The Billionaire’s Desire

 
 
 

Prologue

 
 
 

"Yes, thank you. Wednesday at eleven.
See you in four days."

 

My hands are shaking so badly that I can
barely hang up my phone.

 

Camilla Easton. I just landed Camilla
Easton's wedding.

 

I stand up from the desk and look around my
home office. It is as neat as a pin, of course. The walls surrounding me are hung
with my vision boards and whiteboards. But the wall over the desk has the most
important decoration of them all.

 

My timeline.

 

"The Path To Success," I titled
it so long ago. Three pieces of posterboard laid end to end, with a single red
line stretching from twenty-three years old to twenty-seven years old. Four
years seemed ample time to me back when I first started Sanniyah Jones Events.
Four years to build my business into a corporation with real employees and
licenses to franchisees along the coast.

 

Now I was nearing twenty-seven, in three
months as a matter of fact, and I could finally tick off something that had
been lagging all this time.

 

Land a heavy-weight wedding that would
propel me into the pages of the Styles section.

 

Idly, I run my finger along the red line.
Everything is finally going according to plan. I trace the line lovingly,
making a tick sound with my mouth as I check everything off, one by one. I have
everything laid out just the way I like, and now that I've landed the Easton
wedding, nothing is going to change that.

 
 
 

Chapter One

 
 
 

Sanniyah

 
 
 

I stop
in the middle of the sidewalk, and shift out of this sea of people. Closing my
eyes I take a deep breath.

 

"Okay
Yahya, stop panicking."

 

Clearly
there is no way I can walk to my meeting in time. So rather than show up all
late and sweaty, it's time to switch to plan B.

 

"Taxi!"
I call, stepping out into the street.

 

As if
by magic, a taxi rolls smoothly to a stop, and I hop in and settle back in the
seat, relishing the air-conditioning. "14th and Houston, please," I
tell the driver, already adjusting my makeup in my compact mirror.

 

What's the plan?
Those
words are my mantra, the constant refrain in my brain that has brought me to
where I am today. Planning is what I do, and I'm the best at it. From the
moment I got out of business school, I knew what my plan was: Open my own
business, build my empire, and achieve my dreams.

 

And
today is it. The linchpin to my dreams. I am scheduled to meet Camilla Easton
in ten minutes.

 

If I
can just get there in time.

 

I tap
my fingers against my phone, studiously keeping it close. If I open it and see
the picture of my mother and stepfather on my home screen, I am going to start
crying and that will ruin everything. But even as I fight to keep my cool, my
mother's voice is still echoing in my ear. Last night's conversation was quick
and to the point.

 

"Yahya, the cancer's back. You need to
be ready to say goodbye."

 

"No,"
I whisper softly. "Keep it together." I need to be on point. I need
to sparkle and impress, and thoughts of my stepfather's cancer returning are
not going to help that. I need to push that to the back of my brain, at least
until after this meeting.

 

We are
making good time, until a snarl of downtown traffic catches us in its vise. I
can feel my heart rate starting to rise as the taxi inches along. We are close.
Five minutes. I could probably walk faster.

 

In
fact, I think I will.

 

I grab
my phone and briefcase, and fling money at the driver. Slamming the door, I hit
the pavement for the second time today, my heels clacking. The noon sun is
pouring down on me once again, but I think I can make it without her seeing me
sweat.

 

This is
the biggest break in my career, and everything needs to go according to plan.
When Camilla Easton called me, I had to hold back my disbelief. The Easton
wedding was the event of the year and I had landed it. Every wedding planner in
town had been vying for this one, but in the end she had called Sanniyah Jones
Events.

 

Me.

 

If I
play my cards right, this wedding will launch me into the next level. I can
start the next stage of my timeline, licensing my name. Mentally, I make a note
to release a PR statement as soon as I get back to my home office. This wedding
is sure to land me a full page spread in the Styles section and the thought of
the press and tabloid coverage makes me salivate.

 

And if
Carter Easton shows up at his sister's wedding, that will bring even more
press.

 

That
thought makes my heart race even harder. No one has seen Carter Easton in two
years. He disappeared, completely off of the radar. At the supermarket checkout
the other day, I had actually seen a front page with his smiling face and
picked it up eagerly, only to see that it was a speculation piece about his
metal health. "The Broken Billionaire," they called him. "Why is
Carter Easton Hiding?"

 

If he appears again at MY event, the press
will go ballistic. Every little detail will be photographed and scrutinized. I
might get TV appearances, consulting fees, my own reality show....

 

The
thought makes me rush forward, almost sprinting right past the coffee shop
where Camilla and I had agreed to meet. My sudden burst of energy is partly to
do with excitement and partly to do with the ever-present nervousness I have to
suppress every time I meet with one of my new, usually wealthy clients.

 

And
Camilla Easton is the sister of one of the wealthiest men in the country.

 

"Yahya,
you are not that girl anymore." I'm mumbling to myself as I hurry down the
sidewalk. "You left that behind you."

 

Now, if
only I'd believe myself and let go of the small, sad part of me that still held
on to the deprivations of my childhood.

 

I stop
and collect myself, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the plate glass
window. I tuck a wayward strand of my long, jet black hair behind my ear, and
let the diamond studs wink in the strong sunlight. My makeup still looks
presentable somehow, confirming my belief that it is worth it to spring for the
good stuff, especially on humid days like today. My high cheekbones are still
highlighted with a light dusting of blush that sets off my mocha skin, and my light
brown eyes are accentuated by a slight catlike curve to my dark gray eyeliner.
Everything is still in place, in spite of my nerves. I could use some lip gloss
on my full lips, though.

 

Unfortunately
I had left that in my other bag. And Camilla Easton, and my dreams, are waiting
for me.

 

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