A Billion Reasons Why_Billionaire romance Read online

  A Billion Reasons Why

  Bad Boys & Good Men

  short novel series

  Book 2

  KENNA SHAW REED

  The Bad Boys & Good Men series takes one of the men you can’t forget and gives him his own happily ever after. Sometimes there is steam, sometimes tissues and many times there is both.

  Book 1, Trusting his Heart : Geoffrey was once in love. She died. If he can’t believe in a happily ever after, why should he even trust his heart to try.

  Book 2, A Billion Reasons Why : Mason made his fortune but lost his purpose in life. Losing his name allowed him to find Ellin, but when she discovers the truth, will she ever love him again?

  Book 3, Never Second Best : Seth hoped one day his wife would return his love. But when she left, he vowed never to be second best, again. Lucy was once Seth’s second choice. Can she trust his love second time around? Release May 2018

  Book 4, Who is Erebus? : He steamed up the sheets in The Intern. More heat than a sauna. You are welcome. Release mid 2018

  The Choose Your Own Dirty Sexy Fantasy series allows you to explore which path you want our leading lady to take. Which of her lovers will you embrace, and which will you leave behind.

  Book 1, The Uni Student : Ava finds not all her decisions at university are academic.

  Book 2, The Intern : Jade must choose between love and power – or does she really have to choose at all?

  Book 3, The Question Is : Two lovers and one choice. Her girlfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Or both! Grace thought she had the answer until the question changed.

  Book 4, The Politician’s Wife : He lied, cheated and left her. Susannah deserves better, has found better but now he wants her back. Extract available now

  Book 5, The Unfaithful Wife : Nina was a faithful and forgiving wife until her husband’s latest affair. (Extract available now)

  Book 6, The (Un)Forgiving Wife : When Juliette discovers her husband’s decade-long affair with her best friend, she must decide whether to forgive or move on.

  And remember to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. I want to make you satisfied, and to do that I need to know what turned you on. K

  Thank you to Carlyn, Tamelyn, Kath, Donna-Marie and Esther. Your grace and dignity and love of country inspires me.

  For Mr Shaw Reed. The love of my life who taught me to believe in happily ever after.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kenna Shaw-Reed

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

  Cover: Megan J Parker-Squiers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

  When Dreams Come True

  “We are here today with Mason Winters, the darling of the tech industry and Australia’s newest billionaire. Mason, welcome. Years of hard work creating your company, now you are bathing in success and money. How do you feel?”

  No matter how many times reporters asked him the question, Mason couldn’t give them the natural, rags to riches response. Instead, frozen under the harsh studio lights and trapped by the deep cushioned guest chair, Mason suffered through yet another regrettable interview.

  He belonged in his design lab, working on the ground with his engineers and programmers. Or late at night, alone with his trusty laptop. He had even become almost comfortable working from his corner office overlooking Sydney harbor.

  After all the months and extreme hours putting the final touch to his company’s biggest deal, he deserved to be relaxing out on the water. Not forced to trek the interview circuit putting a face to his company’s public listing and reassuring his customers of his faith in Softli’s future.

  Yet, here he sat, counting the seconds until he could escape from the host’s fake tan and a smile supposedly for him but really for her breakfast television audience. Trying to answer the same questions as the previous interview but in an engaging way that didn’t seem rehearsed, unnatural or the same.

  “Um, Danielle, thank you for inviting me. You’re right. The company has been on quite a journey, but I’m pleased to say Softli has never been in a stronger position to compete globally while still maintaining our local roots.” He tried to flash her the same smile his PR consultant assured him would melt hearts.

  “I am extremely proud of my company and can assure all your viewers that the same values we had as a small start up are just as strong now. We are committed to our customers and making their software integrations seamless and, dare I say it, bug free,” cue laugh tape and camera back to the host. Mason tried to relax a little having delivered his key message the inflections and wit his voice coach insisted would deliver confidence without arrogance.

  The blonde woman sitting across from him smiled again for her invisible audience, “Mason, clearly the market believes in Softli but what my viewers are interested in is you, the man.

  “You grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney. An area better known for youth unemployment than innovation and entrepreneurs.

  “You started your company in your father’s garage and earlier this week you pocketed a one billion dollar payday. What does that kind of good luck do to a man like you?”

  And there it was, as if on cue. At the mention of money, she leaned into him, showing off her ample cleavage, the slight pull back of her shoulders to put pressure on her blouse buttons. Her smile illuminated her face and for a moment he could drown in the belief her interest was genuine.

  Unnerved by her gaze and avoiding looking down her blouse, he remembered his training, “When in doubt, look just below their eyes. Less direct, but still appears engaged.” Focused on where to look, he flustered, momentarily forgot his prepared lines.

  “After all,” she continued, giving him time to collect his thoughts, “It isn’t everyday you wake up a sudden billionaire.”

  Mason ignored her need to talk about his money, instead remembering his company’s early days.

  “I thought dad would never forgive me for kicking his car out of the garage. It had never spent one night out in the elements, but I needed the space and my mum wanted her loungeroom back.”

  Warming to his topic, “I started Softli with a couple of ideas shared between friends. We built it slowly, line of code at a time and then customer at a time. We outgrew my bedroom, then the kitchen table, then mum’s loungeroom. It was either move into the garage for free, or fork out for rent.”

  “Surely, he’s forgiven you by now – after all you could whip down to any dealership and buy him any car he wants.”

  Mason smiled nervously, remembering to relax his face, take sips of water if needed to stall for time. Even though his throat closed from being so dry, he didn’t dare reach for the glass in case he spilled the water all over himself. The quicker he gave this woman the story she wanted, the quicker he could deliver his lines and get out of here.

  “Um,” frozen again, deer in the headlights.

  “Mason,” she leaned in further, turning up the heat, “You are young, devastatingly good looking and now successful beyond most parents’ dreams. Everyone wants to know your secret.”

  This time, he smoothed the dirty blonde fringe from his face, looked up and smiled into her eyes. Wanti
ng her to appreciate his parents’ sacrifice as much as he did. “My parents only ever wanted me to be happy. I never had brothers or sisters, so my computer became my only friend growing up. They wanted me to go out, make friends but had the courage to accept me the way I am. When I started my business in high school, they knew I found something I loved to do, I still love doing.” His heart raced with nerves, how much longer did he have to sit here?

  “So, what inspires a man like you? Is there a woman by your side?” a seductive flick of the long blonde hair, her eyes firmly attached to his own. Any moment now a button would catapult from her blouse. No flimsy piece of fabric could sustain the pressure of those breasts.

  “No! Nothing like that,” he flinched, becoming more uncomfortable by her behavior and line of questioning. These interviews were supposed to be about his company.

  “Every moment of every day has been about Softli, my staff and customers. What makes my staff happy to keep coming back and inspiring them to design the next release, and how to deliver for my customers so they stay loyal.”

  “No woman in your life? A gorgeous man like you?”

  He blushed, “I guess I haven’t met the right one.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the producer wave his hands signaling they were out of time.

  Danielle turned back to the camera, “So there you have it ladies, is he Australia’s most eligible bachelor? Mason Winters, darling of the stock market and waiting to park his car in some lucky lady’s garage!”

  “And, cut to a commercial,” called a voice from the back of the darkened room.

  “Let me,” Danielle’s hands smoothed across his chest as she helped remove the microphone. He couldn’t help her without brushing her breasts. “You really should celebrate your success,” she purred. “I know all the good places and can be excellent, company.” Mason tried not to think what she meant by “company” but figured it was safer not to ask. “How about you invite me to dinner tonight and we have some fun, just the two of us.”

  “Thanks,” he thought quickly, still not used to women coming on to him, “But I have plans.”

  “Change them!” Her soft lips brushed his cheek and her hand traced a line down his shirt only stopping at his waistband as she whispered, “There is so much more where that came from.”

  Luckily, his publicist interrupted, “Danielle, great interview. Thanks for squeezing us in on short notice. Now, I have to take my boy across town for some radio gigs.”

  “Man, have you met a woman that doesn’t want you?” Seaton laughed as they left the building.

  “Believe me, until I became what they call a ‘rich eligible bachelor’, no woman noticed me.”

  “Ah, you are kidding me. That blonde hair, killer green eyes. And tell me, since when do nerds work out and have a body like yours.”

  “Chill,” Mason laughed, “I like the ladies, they’ve never liked me in return. I work out when I’m stressed, and there’s been a lot to worry about the last few months. At any time, the whole deal could have fallen apart and instead of “Australia’s latest billionaire tech nerd”, I’d be another failed computer wannabe.”

  “Still, women are throwing themselves at you. Don’t you have anyone to go home to?”

  Mason unlocked the car, “There was a girl, once but it didn’t work out and now we are friends. I’ll focus on being lucky in business because I’m sure not lucky in love.”

  “Well, we’ve done six interviews. Each time, the female host has almost killed their colleague to interview you and each time there’s a kiss and invitation to dinner or bed.”

  “They don’t want me, they only see the billion dollars. I can’t seem to focus their attention on Softli or our future – I can’t see the point in doing these interviews – no one takes me seriously and they are a complete waste of everyone’s time.”

  “Not at all, we need to keep you in the public eye until the next board meeting. Keep confidence in you and Softli.”

  “What’s the point, I mean, what’s the worse thing that could happen to my company if I stop all the publicity?”

  “Mason, from the moment you took the cash, Softli is not your company any more,” Seaton shrugged as they got to their car.

  Ellin Kenmarre wriggled in her seat to get feeling back from the long numbing bus ride. The university semester finished and for the last weeks, all she wanted was to leave the city and get back home to country and find out for herself what was going on. Each time she rang home, her grandmother couldn’t get off the phone quickly enough, and her brothers were uncharacteristically too busy to talk.

  She was exhausted from travelling. After leaving home at 5am to get to the airport for the cheapest two hours flight from Sydney to Adelaide she had to wait around until early evening.

  Luckily, she had her sketch book handy and started planning her next works for the indigenous Desert Mob Art exhibition. The hours passed quickly, especially when children on school holidays surrounded her, clamoring for her to draw them something, pleading with her to teach them how to do indigenous dot paintings.

  “Why do you use dots instead of just drawing things?” a little boy asked, before being “shushed” by his mother.

  Ellin smiled and handed him one of her quick drawings, “For thousands of years, we drew our rituals and symbols in the sand or on our bodies. The sand could be brushed away and our bodies cleaned in the river. What happened to the art, then?”

  “It went away,” another child crept closer to Ellin’s lap and the crayons.

  “Right, but at least they stayed a secret and other tribes couldn’t see.”

  She waited for the nods, “When we started painting on paper and canvas, could we still hide our secrets?”

  “No, silly,” a young girl called from the back of the group, “You don’t hide art – you hang it on your fridge or in a gallery!”

  Ellin laughed, smoothing her long black hair from her face, “Right, but once you hang it and people see, there are no secrets anymore. So, we started hiding our secrets in dots. Isn’t that clever?”

  Their never-ending enthusiasm helped pass the time for her bus. Whenever one group left, another seemingly arrived from another plane and parents were grateful to use her as a distraction.

  No matter, Ellin loved sharing her indigenous heritage and soon worked out how to give rolling impromptu art lessons. By the time passengers were called for her bus, it was early evening and her energy completely depleted. At least, she still had a sandwich and fruit packed for the 20-hour journey from Adelaide to the central Australian city of Alice Springs.

  After almost two days of travelling, she only had this last two hours by a different bus until she would be in her grandmother’s house again. She could almost smell the toasted cheese sandwiches, true comfort and study food. Washed down with a cold beer, or knowing her brothers, several cold beers and accompanied by a barrage of questions about her life in the city.

  Growing up, she hated living away from civilization, surrounded by the dry, red dust and never-ending desert heat. She used the desire for a different life to push her to study despite the challenges of distance, knowing in her heart an entire world waited for her to join in.

  How wrong could she be? Nothing prepared Ellin for the subtle and not-so-subtle racism without her family to cushion the hurt. It wasn’t even from the white Australians! They had at least been in her country for 200 years. No, the greatest racism was from newer arrivals. Challenging how she made it to the University of New South Wales – assuming she received a token scholarship because of the color of her skin.

  Not bloody likely, she raged. Ellin fought for her place like any other student – only she completed high school by correspondence. Often having to structure her study around the availability of her teachers. Moving away from home meant moving states and cultures. Leaving her small, predominantly indigenous community where she knew the kinship line of all 549 residents, to mixing with over 1000 students just enrolled in her flexible bachel
or’s degree in communications and social work. The university itself was ten times that size.

  Ellin thought the anonymity would suit her, allow her to find her own sense of self without family expectations or pressures. Instead, she became overwhelmed with choice, incredibly homesick and craved the security of her grandmother’s home and the craziness of her brothers’ voices.

  She needed them, and from what they weren’t telling her by phone, she guessed they needed her too.

  “Andamooka Gorge – 21km”

  Only half an hour to go. Ellin pulled a hair brush out of her bag and tried to run it through her untamed, thick black curls.

  She had agreed to the last photographer tidying up her eyebrows to show off her deep brown eyes but resisted his attempts to cut her hair. She loved to use her hair to express her mood – out flowing when she felt wild and free, up in a tight bun to study or a long ponytail when painting. Luckily, the photographer decided she could keep her hair and even came up with having her hair as the focus in profiles for an online summer catalogue he published.

  “You’ve got a unique look that no other girl on the circuit has today. Innocent, wild. Your dark colouring, graceful movements and long legs.”

  “Thanks, it was good working with you,” she meant it, not all photographers treated her like a real person.

  “Pleasure is all mine, nice to work with a model who isn’t a paranoid, stick figure doll.”

  Something else to tell her grandmother. Student by day, accidental model any evening or weekend when she wasn’t pulling beers at the uni bar. Whatever it took to pay the rent, electricity and the occasional meal.