Read Online To Want A Billionaire (The Billionaire's Baby Series Book 1) by Ava Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Book: To Want A Billionaire (The Billionaire's Baby Series Book 1) by Ava Claire
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Authors: Ava Claire
Tags: alpha male, alpha male romance, Billionaire, billionaire romance, billionaire erotic romance, alpha billionaire, ava claire, jacob and leila
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to bed last night, “Will not fit in the black one.”
“Oh,” she twisted her mouth in defeat, returning them to the rack. “I was hoping we could match. Take this bestie thing to the next level.”
“I’m so on board,” I winked, walking right past all the designer and svelte pieces that I’d outgrown around month 2 of my pregnancy. There was a section of my closet that I lived in now, and that was the free flowing, breathable, functional and still fashionable section. I passed over florals and geometrics, fingertips dancing over a sleek black number that I was planning on wow-ing Jacob with very soon. I hit the brakes on a color block dress that was perfect. The top was white and the bottom half was a lush turquoise that reminded me of the beach. Just running my fingertips along the gold threads took me back to the beach. Touch alone transported me back to the sand, the ocean breeze, and virgin pina coladas served in pineapples. “How about this one?”
Megan gave it two thumbs up. “I like!” She craned her neck past me and I followed her line of sight, thinking she was drawn to the mirrors.
My heart dropped to the floor when I realized she’d locked her sights on our toy chest.
Oversized, with worn leather accents and shiny metal buckles, it definitely looked out of place among the sleek modernity of everything else in the apartment.
“What’s with the old school steamer trunk? You two hiding a body?” Megan scooted up beside me and dropped her voice confidentially. “Is Rachel Laraby in there?”
Usually, a Rachel joke, no matter how morbid, would draw at least a chuckle, but I stumbled over my words, turning red as a tomato. “We should get going, don’t want to be late for my own baby shower!”
~
E verything was going....well?
That question mark and confusion made me warily take in the scene. A scene that should have been a horror show of epic proportions. We were beneath the gazebo in Lake Merced Park and Megan had truly outdone herself, transforming the space into something whimsical.
We’d walked the lake together when we wanted to switch it up from the gym, daydreaming about how cool a party beneath the gazebos would be. Curious for work purposes, I’d checked online and it was booked well into next year. The task of taking the rustic space and turning it into something elegant made me defer to the more capable hands of the event planners at Whitmore and Creighton.
Clearly, I had a party planning extraordinaire right under my nose.
She’d cordoned off the space around the gazebo, with white picket fence themed stakes and a security detail that stood guard and kept the paparazzi at a distance. Ivy wrapped around the posts that supported the roof, string lights twinkling in the shadows. The tables were covered with white and brown burlap cloths and wooden picture frames. There were pictures of me and Jacob and my baby bump, grinning, glowing all around. Tea light candles swayed in the breeze, and a white banner with gold lettering trumpeted #whitmorebaby2016. It should have induced hardcore eye rolling, but it was a beautiful, modern, hashtag worthy celebration. The star-studded guest list consisted of me, Megan, my mother, and Alicia Whitmore.
Snuggling in my seat in the center of the space, I stroked my belly with a smirk. You’re gonna be instal-famous, lil mama! Even as I placed my money on a little girl, I could hear Jacob saying that he was sure it was a boy. We’d agreed to wait until the big day to find out the gender, and it was driving our mothers crazy.
Glancing at said mothers over the rim of my sunglasses, my smile stalled on my lips.
Mom was practically rubbing shoulders with Alicia and somehow, pigs were not flying, locusts were not swarming, and the end of days were not upon us. They were even practically matching, like me and Megan. My mother wore a denim dress with pearl buttons that ran from her collar to the hem, that fell just past her knees. Her salt and
“Oh,” she twisted her mouth in defeat, returning them to the rack. “I was hoping we could match. Take this bestie thing to the next level.”
“I’m so on board,” I winked, walking right past all the designer and svelte pieces that I’d outgrown around month 2 of my pregnancy. There was a section of my closet that I lived in now, and that was the free flowing, breathable, functional and still fashionable section. I passed over florals and geometrics, fingertips dancing over a sleek black number that I was planning on wow-ing Jacob with very soon. I hit the brakes on a color block dress that was perfect. The top was white and the bottom half was a lush turquoise that reminded me of the beach. Just running my fingertips along the gold threads took me back to the beach. Touch alone transported me back to the sand, the ocean breeze, and virgin pina coladas served in pineapples. “How about this one?”
Megan gave it two thumbs up. “I like!” She craned her neck past me and I followed her line of sight, thinking she was drawn to the mirrors.
My heart dropped to the floor when I realized she’d locked her sights on our toy chest.
Oversized, with worn leather accents and shiny metal buckles, it definitely looked out of place among the sleek modernity of everything else in the apartment.
“What’s with the old school steamer trunk? You two hiding a body?” Megan scooted up beside me and dropped her voice confidentially. “Is Rachel Laraby in there?”
Usually, a Rachel joke, no matter how morbid, would draw at least a chuckle, but I stumbled over my words, turning red as a tomato. “We should get going, don’t want to be late for my own baby shower!”
~
E verything was going....well?
That question mark and confusion made me warily take in the scene. A scene that should have been a horror show of epic proportions. We were beneath the gazebo in Lake Merced Park and Megan had truly outdone herself, transforming the space into something whimsical.
We’d walked the lake together when we wanted to switch it up from the gym, daydreaming about how cool a party beneath the gazebos would be. Curious for work purposes, I’d checked online and it was booked well into next year. The task of taking the rustic space and turning it into something elegant made me defer to the more capable hands of the event planners at Whitmore and Creighton.
Clearly, I had a party planning extraordinaire right under my nose.
She’d cordoned off the space around the gazebo, with white picket fence themed stakes and a security detail that stood guard and kept the paparazzi at a distance. Ivy wrapped around the posts that supported the roof, string lights twinkling in the shadows. The tables were covered with white and brown burlap cloths and wooden picture frames. There were pictures of me and Jacob and my baby bump, grinning, glowing all around. Tea light candles swayed in the breeze, and a white banner with gold lettering trumpeted #whitmorebaby2016. It should have induced hardcore eye rolling, but it was a beautiful, modern, hashtag worthy celebration. The star-studded guest list consisted of me, Megan, my mother, and Alicia Whitmore.
Snuggling in my seat in the center of the space, I stroked my belly with a smirk. You’re gonna be instal-famous, lil mama! Even as I placed my money on a little girl, I could hear Jacob saying that he was sure it was a boy. We’d agreed to wait until the big day to find out the gender, and it was driving our mothers crazy.
Glancing at said mothers over the rim of my sunglasses, my smile stalled on my lips.
Mom was practically rubbing shoulders with Alicia and somehow, pigs were not flying, locusts were not swarming, and the end of days were not upon us. They were even practically matching, like me and Megan. My mother wore a denim dress with pearl buttons that ran from her collar to the hem, that fell just past her knees. Her salt and
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