Shopping for A Billionaire’s Honeymoon
Book 11 in the Shopping series
Author: Julia Kent
Release date: January 31, 2017
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance
He is addicted to his phone and his new role as CEO. I’m addicted to getting some on my own honeymoon.
One of these things is not like the other.
I am pretty sure a serial killer’s lair is the only place in the world where I could stash my new husband so he can’t manage the acquisition of our new company.
And that seems a little drastic.
But only a little...
All I want is one week alone with him. Hours in bed, legs tangled together in ecstasy, room service and long walks on the beach in Hawaii.
Not vying for his kisses around a Bluetooth microphone. The Borg aren’t sexy in real life.
So I’m taking matters into my own hands and hitting “reboot” on our honeymoon.
We’re going to a place so remote that no one can find us.
Not even my mother.
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon is now a full-length book of 150+ pages, with both Shannon and Declan’s points of view. Originally published with only Shannon’s viewpoint, this expanded edition is a result of reader feedback. People wanted to know what Declan was up to – so here you go. This book is meant to be read after Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife and/or Shopping for a CEO’s Fiancée, but if you read it out of order (or even as a standalone), that’s fine. Shannon and Declan forgive you. ;)
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New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down
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Let’s do an inventory of this fine day. My day-after-I-got-married day. In Vegas.
After fleeing my Momzilla mother.
Today is supposed be Day One of my honeymoon after marrying the billionaire of my dreams.
(Let’s not count the night before).
Woke up to the lovely sight of my husband’s tousled dark hair sliding down my torso so he could feast on me for breakfast.
Had actual breakfast in bed after room service delivered mixed berries, cream, bacon, and maple-soaked carrot-cake french toast, and the best damn coffee on the planet from the coffee chain I now own.
Made love with my delightful husband in the giant jetted bathtub in our suite. Turns out I’m as bendy as a Cirque du Soleil performer when I need to be. Maybe Mom’s insistence that I attend all those yoga classes she teaches has a silver lining after all.
Dressed and prepared to hop the corporate jet for Hawaii, kisses interspersed between readying ourselves for the trip. Undressed twice. Dressed twice. Declan insisted I not wear panties for the plane trip.
“But I’m already a member of the Mile High Club,” I’d protested.
“Not as a wife.”
He had a point.
Found his brother, my best friend, a former colleague and an Anterdec chauffeur all married to each other.
Notice something a little different about that last one?
Yeah. Me too.
Day One of my honeymoon had promise, but now? Now it’s a little too real.
We’re on the plane, settling into our seats, and I’m doing my best not to think about my poor best friend and her chaotic mess back at the Anterdec resort where Declan and I just spent nearly a week trying to figure out our entire life.
Which we did, successfully, to my utter surprise. After fleeing our wedding in a helicopter and lying to my Momzilla mother, we managed to get to Las Vegas, ensconced in a resort on the Vegas Strip that Declan had designed himself as an intern in college. By the time my crazy family caught up to us, we’d steeled ourselves for the inevitable fallout.
And got so much more than we expected, in more ways than one. We’re married now. Husband and wife.
That’s really all that matters.
That, and honeymoon sex.
Lots and lots and lots of honeymoon sex. It’s my wifely right to walk funny for the next few days.
And his husbandly duty to make it so.
It’s criminal what Shannon does to me. We just had sex, spooned and cocooned, breathing in each other’s air and imprinting each other with scent and time.
And yet she makes me want more.
Spread among the mussed bedsheets, she looks like a divine being poured her into the bed, all long, rolling hair and sultry smiles. How can a body smile at me like that? Yet it does. It sings to me, a song of joy and fire that touches the very root of me.
I climb on the edge of the bed and yank her by the ankles, hard, making her squeal.
You know what you do with criminals?
You handcuff them.
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