Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
One unforgettable night. One spectacularly rude goodbye. There’s no reason our paths should ever cross again until…
I find myself with a temporary nanny job and discover my boss is the same arrogant Frenchman.
Lucien du Beaumont is wealthy, widowed, and deeply infuriating. He has an indecent talent for dirty talk and a smolder that should come with a public health warning. And for some reason he seems to think paying my salary entitles him to the last word.
He’s about to be very disappointed.
He gives orders and I give him hell. Until one argument ends with his mouth on mine and we forget falling out and start making up for lost time instead.
We make an arrangement. A few stolen weeks. No promises. No complications. And absolutely no falling in love. But for a girl who’s spent her life trying to be perfect, being wanted by him begins to feel dangerously close to being enough.
Our summer has an expiry date and our arrangement has rules. And when it’s time to say au revoir, will he give me a reason to stay, or one I’ll never forgive?
The Stranger is standalone romance featuring a brooding billionaire and his accidental nanny. It includes age-gap goodness, hate to love and forced proximity tension, as well as family, laughter, love and a lot of ooh-la-la!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
PRIMROSE
“God, I love Paris.” I turn my face to the sky as the sun bids us a lingering goodbye, gold and crimson cresting the roofs of the Gothic buildings around us. “Her beauty, her history, her champagne, her long summer days.”
“Je préfère her long summer nights.” By my side, Sabine gives an impish grin.
Welp, okay, I think, as I tug at the hem of my short skirt, wondering why it appears to have shrunk right out of my comfort zone.
It would appear we’re lost, judging by the way Sabine is hunched over her phone. But I’m not stressing. But that might be the champagne.
I’m here in Paris to spend some time with my bestie, Emmy, who at the last minute ditched me. That’s not strictly true. The family she nannies for refused to let her leave when her replacement didn’t show up. So enter Sabine, my sister’s friend, with a timely invitation to a super exclusive party tonight. And I thought, why the heck not?
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sabine slides her phone into her purse, then slips her arm though mine as we begin to walk again. “A lover, perhaps?”
“Er, no.” I give a nervous laugh. I don’t know Sabine well enough to have those kinds of conversations. “Sadly, my last boyfriend suffered a terrible fall.”
“Mon dieu!” Her grip tightens on my arm. “Did he…?”
“Die?” I shake my head. “Which is a shame really. His fall was broken by his co-worker’s vagina.”
“Oh, you are very bad!” she exclaims with a laugh.
“That’s exactly what he said, right before I stabbed him in the head.”
“Another joke, I think.”
“I did consider it.” And I still imagine it from time to time, not that anyone would believe it from a nice girl like me. “But you can’t be a doctor and a murderer, sadly.” At least, not officially.
“I cannot believe Lavender’s little sister is a doctor.”
I ignore the admiration in her tone and the usual prickle of discomfort that comes with any kind of praise. “All I need to do now is complete another nine years of on-the-job training to consultant level.”
Sabine’s expression twists. I mean, I get it. It’s a lot to put yourself through but I can’t wait to hit the wards next month, even if all I seem to have done lately is work and study, study and work. Which is why I’m in Paris to let loose a little.
“Then perhaps we will find you a body to practice on.”
I give a nervous laugh.
“Maybe a body belonging to someone tall, dark, and ’andsome.”
“And older.” We move closer on the pavement to allow a couple coming the other way to pass.
“You like an older man, huh?”
“Particularly the over seventy-fives.”
Sabine’s lip curls, and I try not to laugh. “Primrose, no…”
“Yes, really.” I give in to a belly laugh. “I’m an elderly care doctor. Oldies are totally my jam!” It could be because I’m a big fan of tweed pants and cardigans. Or because we’re on the same wavelength.
“Lavender did not tell me her sister liked to joke.”
“Probably because she doesn’t think I’m funny.” By Sabine’s expression, neither does she.
“D’accord! Tonight we will find you a French man. An older but not old Frenchman.”
“We’ll see. Where is this party supposed to be anyway?” It seems like we’ve been walking an age. Blood simmers in my veins like champagne bubbles. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to go out.
“Here, I think.” She looks up at the ornate wooden door set into a high stucco wall. “Yes, here.”
“Isn’t this, like, a residential area?” My gaze slides to the row of swanky Hausman buildings flanking the other side of the street. We’ve passed by designer boutiques, foreign embassies, and by-appointment-only jewelry stores. And houses. Big, fancy ones behind high walls.
“Oui. It is the 7th Arrondissement.”
“I thought we were going to a club.” I frown at the heavy, unfriendly-looking door. I can’t hear any music, just the noise of cars whizzing by.
“It is more, how you say, a private event.” Sabine raises her fist.
“What makes you think they’re going to let us in?” My stomach twists uncomfortably. “Do we even have invitations?”
“It is not that kind of party.” She slides a sultry glance my way.
“Really?” Because this address seems to be the heavy cardstock, velvet ribbon, wax-sealed, and hand-delivered invitation kind of place. “It’s not an illegal rave, is it?” I demand as the thought hits. You read about this kind of stuff, people returning from vacation to find their homes ruined. I can’t be involved in that kind of thing!
“Non! This is a very exclusive event and we ’ave invitations from Jay.”
Jay is Sabine’s current crush, judging by the way she’s gone on and on and on about him and his music all night. Which is, apparently, a whole vibe.
This time when she lifts her fist, she thumps the wooden door hard. The echo of her knock seems to vibrate inside me. Or maybe that’s just my anxiety.