Book & Author Details:
Trillionaire Boys’ Club: The Clothing Mogul
by Aubrey Parker
Publication date: December 6th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
“You have to fall in love,” Alyssa suggests. And then, because she’s my publicist, she adds the key word: “Publicly.”
My name is Ashton Moran, and I’m CEO of the $2.2 billion Hurricane Apparel company. You’d think that’d be enough, but it’s not. Not for Alyssa. She says my public image sucks. She says my being a womanizer is hurting Hurricane’s brand.So she found this girl, Jenna, who I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with for the press. I’m not supposed to sleep with any other women for as long as this farce goes on. Only with Jenna — if she’s into it, which she will be.
I understand what Alyssa is trying to do by making Hurricane more “family friendly,” but … Me? In love? With only one woman?
There’s no way this is going to work.
The Clothing Mogul is part of the Trillionaire Boys’ Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of one of the Club’s powerful members … and you’re going to want to collect them all.
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Excerpt
“Ashton? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He slides closer.
“Not anymore.”
I turn to look at him. “What’s
gotten into you?”
“Nothing’s gotten into me.”
But it’s too much. Too weird. I sit
up straighter. I watch his dark eyes in the sparse light filtering up from the
street. “Don’t you want to …?”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to have sex?” For a
second I’m embarrassed — ridiculous, given the things we’ve done.
“Very much.”
“Well?”
“I just wanted to take a moment.”
“Why?”
“To do without. As if you’ve denied
me.”
“I’m not denying you.” The words
stir something. My hair against my shoulder, bare but for the straps of my
nightshirt, is like the brush of my lover’s fingers. I forget why I was put off
by the idea that he’d come here and simply expect to fuck me.
This change is even stranger than
the one at dinner. Stranger than the one I saw when he spoke to my father,
deferring to the older man’s authority like a proper suitor. His lack of action
is making me more aroused, not less. I want to be the aggressor. I want to take
him all without asking.
“I know,” he says. “But you could.”
“Anyone can. What’s so special about
denial?”
“You don’t know, Jenna. You can’t
know what it’s like to be me. Everything is so hard at first, but at a certain
point everything gets too easy. You’re the only person who challenges me, who
pushes back, who made me work to have you.”
“I’m yours.” I lick my lips, finding
control harder to summon. “You don’t have to work to have me anymore. We have a
deal.”
“Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about
our deal.”
“Why not?” I don’t understand. I’m
uneasy, nervous.
“Because I’m sorry we made it. Too
many lies to keep track of.”
“You mean the lies about us being
together?”
“I mean the lies about how we’re
not.”
I look down at him. He can’t mean
what he seems to. His hand is at my breast. He’s stroking it idly, almost as if
he doesn’t realize what it does to me. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t really know who I am
anymore, Jenna. I thought I did, but tonight I found I was wrong. The old me
would have been different. He would have lapped it all up. But I didn’t want
to. It just made me angry. All I could think about, the entire time, was coming
here.”
To my house? It’s so
ridiculous.
“You’re Ashton Moran.” It’s such an
empty thing to say, but some of the disorientation and confusion leave his
expression. I don’t know if it’s what he honestly needs to hear, or if it’s
more that he needs me, of all people, to say it.
“Am I? We’ve lied so much, I’m not
sure. There’s the old story of Ashton Moran, and now there’s this new one. I’ve
been in the new story for months now, but tonight I re-entered the old one. I
didn’t feel comfortable in it, like I don’t know or like the old Ashton
anymore. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because if I don’t like the old
Ashton, it means I like being the new one instead. But the new one is a lie.
The new Ashton doesn’t exist.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s all bullshit.
Everything we’ve said in those interviews … bullshit.”
I look down. I don’t know what to
say.
“Tell me it wasn’t all bullshit,
Jenna.”
“I … I don’t know.”
“All I know is that tonight,
I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t like me or who I’d become. I only like
myself these days when I’m here, in the belly of the lie.”
He raises my shirt and bares my
breasts. He kisses them sweetly, one by one. His hand his on my leg, moving
slowly, warming me.
Then his hand goes to the center of
my chest. To my heart. It’s ironic — he made his billions manufacturing
clothing that monitors vital signs, relaying them to an app. But right now the
great clothing titan is feeling my vitals using only the biometric device of
flesh and bone offered by God. A connection born not of Bluetooth, but skin to
skin.
He comes to my lips and kisses them.
“Don’t deny me now.”
AUTHOR BIO:
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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