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Mommy’s Boss (The Boyfriend Diaries #2)
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My mom’s gorgeous, growly billionaire boss has threatened to fire her unless I agree to be his.
My mom and I don’t have much in life, nor do we require much. We’re happy together because it’s us girls against the world.
All we ask is for a roof over our head, food on the table, and maybe a night out at the movies every now and then.
We’ve been okay so far because my mom works hard at a casino on the Strip. She puts in long days toiling away for a few bucks here and there.
But now, Grace is sick. My mother can’t work anymore, and her heartless billionaire boss, Cameron Savage, has fired her, leaving us with nothing. Unless…
… I become his “personal assistant”!
Who does Mr. Savage think he is?
Okay, the billionaire’s got movie-star good looks with intense blue eyes, night-black hair, and a six pack made of steel beneath that fancy suit.
But to my horror, Mr. Savage wants more than just an executive assistant. For this job, I have to be available 24/7, ready at the CEO’s beck and call.
In short, I’ll belong to Cameron Savage in every way possible.
He’s marking me as his.
I’m his property.
The problem is …
… what happens if the alpha male puts a baby in my belly? Will he change his ways once he’s being called DADDY?
This story is a forbidden, sweet and steamy tale filled with an OVER THE TOP hunky, growly badass of a CEO and a sassy, feisty girl with a strong will. Cameron Savage makes Maddy a dirty deal, but will she take it? No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers!
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“Hi sweetheart,” my mom greets me as she comes in through the front door. Grace is just about to say something else but then she leans over, hacking and coughing like she’s short a lung.
Immediately, I jump up.
“Mom, are you okay?” I ask, running over to pound her on the back. But I should know better because Grace is about five foot seven and one hundred and fifteen pounds. She’s as slender as a young bough, and my hard thumps only makes her double over even more.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she manages while holding a hand up. My mom looks up at me and her eyes are slightly teary from both the coughing fit and my vigorous pounding. “I’m going to be okay.”
My heart lurches because in the harsh light of the front door porch, I can see how Grace has aged. She’s not old, not really. My mom is only forty but a difficult life has put lines onto her face early. There are brackets around her eyes and mouth that make-up can’t hide, and the look of exhaustion in her eyes is undeniable.
It makes sense after all. My mom hasn’t had it easy from the very beginning. Grace was born into a family that never had much. As a result, when she was twelve, she went out and got her first job. It was just taking in laundry from neighbors, but it was back-breaking work and very humble, not to mention embarrassing when her friends found out. But she toiled away for years, and managed to get a high school degree even while working non-stop. Then, Grace met my dad and thought her days as a low-paid laborer were over.
At first it was okay because my dad, David, was a handsome charmer. He had the silver tongue of an Irishman, along with canny wit and a head full of crazy ideas. The problem is that his ideas were too inspired. David was filled with all sorts of get-rich-quick tactics, none of which worked. After a flop where he and my mom were supposed to breed turkeys to sell, David high-tailed it out of Vegas, never to be seen again. My mom must have been relieved, to tell you the truth.
But he also left her pregnant with me, and after I was born, Mom went back to menial labor. She got a job at a hotel on the Strip doing laundry once more, and over the next couple years toiled away like a servant. But then, Grace caught a lucky break. One day, a showrunner saw her walking across the casino floor, and asked her to try out for their next production. Voila. History was made, and Grace Mitchell became a showgirl at Le Palms.
It’s not an easy job, although my mom never complains. As a showgirl, you have to keep lean, fit, and flexible. My mom always stretches first thing in the morning, and tries to stay limber. She wears make-up all the time, and her hair is always dyed and styled to perfection. It’s a far cry from me, her messy and disorganized daughter.
But my mom and I are close; after all, Grace is all I have, and I’m all that she has too. It’s just the two of us against the world, so I was concerned to see my mom bent over while hacking up a lung.
“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly again, while helping her sit in the Barcalounger in our living room. We live in a small condo off the Strip which isn’t fancy, but which is in a good location. My mom has an easy commute to Le Palms, and I can catch the bus to the local high school pretty easily.
“I’m fine,” she says in a raspy voice with a smile. “Maddy, honey, can you get me a glass of water? I’m sure as soon as I get some water into me, I’ll be fine.”
I scurry off, only to return with a glass of water in hand to find my mom nodding off the recliner. My heart lurches and tears come to my eyes because Grace is just so damned tired all the time. She hasn’t had a day’s rest in her forty-odd years, and her head droops wearily onto one shoulder. I can see the faint cast of exhaustion emanating from that thin frame and a lump forms in my throat.
I’m just about to creep off with her water in hand when suddenly Grace jerks awake.
“That’s just the thing I need, sweetheart,” she rasps in a croaky voice. “Give me a sip and let’s have a chat. Why are you still awake, Maddy? You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”
I take a seat, my cheeks a little pink. The truth is that I was waiting for Grace. It’s two a.m. on a Friday night, and I know I should be out partying with boys or at least seeing a movie with my friends, but it’s impossible to have fun when I know my mom is slaving away to pay our bills. As a result, I’m dressed in my flannel PJs, but wide awake and relieved that she’s back now.