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Not Husband Material
She wants a baby.
I want my billions.
Together, we can have everything we want.
I’ve inherited the family fortune.
Only there’s ONE hell of a catch.
I need to find a girl. Put a ring on her finger.
And here’s the most important part—knock her up.
Sounds easy, right?
After all, finding a woman to suck my c*ck has never been an issue.
It’s not like I have to fall in love.
Seems like a lucky break when I run into Evie after twelve years.
She’s all grown up now with gorgeous seductive curves that can take a man to his knees.
After one night together we can’t deny our chemistry could burn down the city.
I’ll make Evie my wife and she’ll have my baby.
But I’m in for an unexpected surprise… what if it isn’t fake?
What if Jeremy Hartwell has finally found The One?
The stakes are higher now. If anyone finds out our marriage isn’t real, I’ll lose everything, including Evie.
But I’m a fighter. I’m the man who will do whatever it takes to make sure she will always be mine.
Not Husband Material is the first in the Billionaire Contract Trilogy. Evie and Jeremy’s story continues in Not Daddy Material.
*If you like steamy alpha male billionaire stories, you’ll love Not Husband Material. It’s so hot, you’ll need a glass of ice water by your side. No cheating, a HEA and special bonus books for your reading pleasure.*
1
Jeremy
There were three things I was certain of in my life. I’d never play baseball again. My millions were almost gone. And my father’s reach extended beyond the grave.
The snow fell, gathering in the corners of the window. The glass was frosted. I couldn’t make out anything happening on the street below the Law Offices of Lancaster & Hudson.
“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Hartwell?”
“What was that?” I turned to face him.
My father’s attorney cleared his throat. “Your father’s wishes. The final part of the will. Do I need to repeat it for you?”
My mother ran a finger over the base of her throat, skimming her pearls. “Jeremy,” she whispered. “Let’s not drag this out.”
My tie was too restrictive. I attempted to pry it from my neck. “No, I think I missed it. Why don’t you read it again?”
I needed to take the damn thing off. I loosened the knot enough to take a solid breath. My ribcage filled with air, stretching the seams on my suit. My shoulders were too broad for this damn thing. Why did my father think I wanted to trade in the life I had for one like this? Stuffy rooms with stuffy attorneys. Board meetings. Fitted designer suits that suffocated my biceps.
“Really, Byron. I think we can handle this as a family matter from here. Your service is appreciated, however I should talk to Jeremy,” my mother protested. She could pretend to be humiliated. I didn’t buy it. Sylvia Hartwell did everything by design. Every word was chosen for a purpose.
“No. I’d like to hear it again. I just want to make sure I have my instructions. The final words from my father.” I glared in her direction. Like hell, if I wasn’t going to make this uncomfortable for her too. “Dad’s most parental moment. Right here. On the record for that cute little stenographer to preserve for us.”
I winked at the girl sitting in the corner furiously translating every word we spoke into the legal record.
Byron Lancaster had worked for my father since I was a kid. If he was shocked by the contents of the will, he didn’t let on
that it bothered him. He was used to doing the dirty work. It’s why he made more than anyone else who worked in this building.
“Very well.” The older man pulled gold reading glasses to the brim of his nose. “My sole heir, Jeremy Hartwell, will receive his inheritance in its entirety, totaling half a billion dollars, the Malibu property, the vineyard in Napa, and the hunting lodge in Aspen, upon completion of the following.” Byron continued quickly. “The Hartwell family line will be extended with the addition of a spouse and a child bearing the Hartwell name. Under no circumstances will this marriage be dissolved without a full retraction of the inheritance, to be withdrawn and placed in a trust.”
“And there you have it.” I slapped the mahogany desk. Byron and my mother flinched. The stenographer temporarily stopped typing. “I’ve been called a stud before, but not quite in this manner.” I pushed off from the leather chair.
“Jeremy,” my mother hissed. “Where are you going? Sit back down.”
I reached for my overcoat. It was February, and cold as hell in Newton Hills. “Where do you think I’m going, Mother? I need to get drunk and knock someone up. I just got my walking papers to fuck every girl in this town if necessary. Some girl out there wants to be a part of this fun and happy family, don’t you think?”
