Ner

by Amberlee Day

  Her (not so) Rich Millionaire Playboy

  A Vintage Romance

  Amberlee Day

  Copyright © 2018 by Amberlee Day

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dear Reader,

  We are thrilled to bring you the Vintage Romance Series filled with contemporary retellings of some of your favorite classic novels and chick flicks. To celebrate, we’ve created custom ice cream flavors for each book. You can find the recipe to accompany “Her (Not So) Rich Millionaire Playboy.”

  Moonlight and Whispers Vanilla

  at the back of the book.

  And, we’ll have a new flavor with each new release to don’t hesitate to pick up each and every book and enjoy these sweet summer reads.

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  Her (Not So) Rich Millionaire Playboy

  Inspired by Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey

  His heart is in his castle, hers is in the clouds. Can they find a way to meet in the middle?

  Beverly Tune is a bookstore owner with a very active imagination. When she accompanies her aunt on an American castle tour, she stumbles into the wealthy and handsome playboy Ned Sterling. Or was meeting him not a coincidence at all? Beverly’s quick to conclude that the flirtatious Ned is both full of himself and hiding a secret agenda.

  Ned expected to inherit the family castle, but when his mother died without a will, the entire estate went to his ambitious, money-hungry father. Ned’s goals revolve around protecting the castle and his heritage, and he hopes Beverly’s aunt can help him. He doesn’t mean to give Beverly mixed messages, but how else can he keep her close enough to help his cause and far enough away that she’s not a distraction?

  When Beverly’s imagination gets her in trouble with Ned—again—they both have to decide what they’re willing to change to give the affection and attraction between them a chance to grow.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Free Destination Billionaire Romance

  Vintage Romance Ice Cream

  Also by Amberlee Day

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “What, you mean this Friday?” Beverly blinked several times, trying to transition from the murder mystery in her hand to the person in front of her. Her reading lamp was the brightest light on in the bookshop at that hour, and Aunt Affie stood outside the circle it cast. “Leave for a month? I can’t do that. Besides, I thought Lavinia was going with you to the coast.”

  Aunt Affie—or Dr. Alfreda Tune, PhD, as she was known in the academic world—shifted her apple-shaped weight from one skinny leg to the other. “Lavinia can’t come. Something about going to South America to find herself. I don’t really care why, but she’s left me in the lurch, and since it’s about time you got out from under your books, I want you to come with me.”

  Beverly looked around protectively at the friendly tomes filling the bookshelves and stacked in piles to be sorted. Why would she want to come out from under them? When she couldn’t come up with an answer, she shook her head to clear it. “Aunt Affie, I love you, but you can’t just walk in and announce that you want me to take a trip with you for a month, starting Friday. That’s absurd. I know you don’t think much of me running a used bookshop instead of something better—”

  “Like that makes any difference to you. You could have been a brilliant history professor, Beverly. Or even a novelist, like that friend of yours.”

  Before her aunt could go on, Beverly peeled up from her favorite armchair—one of half a dozen scattered around the old shop. They were all unusual colors and mismatched, but she loved them. Her hand slid fondly across the arm of this one as she left it. Now to find a bookmark …

  “And how do you expect customers to take you seriously when you dress like that?” Aunt Affie said.

  Here we go again. Beverly looked down at her outfit, which she didn’t think warranted criticism. Yes, the colorful, wide-legged pants were a little wild, but they were clean, as was the lacy white top she wore with it. “It’s called Bohemian chic, Aunt Affie. Maybe not a tweed suit and stockings, but we can’t all be as stylish as you.” She hugged her aunt with her free arm and kissed the top of her white head before heading to the main desk. Where did she put that bookmark she had yesterday? Despite spending her days in a bookshop, she could never find one.

  “Well, you look like you’re wearing pajamas,” Aunt Affie said. Her voice softened just a touch as she added, “Pretty pajamas, but still. It’s daytime.”

  “It is, and you probably need to get to your morning class.” Nothing in the bookmark basket. She began shuffling papers. Maybe there was one underneath. Searching for bookmarks in the shop was as elusive as losing socks in the dryer. She couldn’t think where they went to.

  “I do need to get over to the college,” Aunt Affie said, a little peevish. “I’m giving my class their finals in an hour. But first I need you to promise you’ll come with me. This book on West Coast castles needs to get done before I drop dead, or my castle trilogy will only have two books.”

  The front desk area proved to be bookmark-free. Three brown bags full of paperbacks waited on the floor nearby for her to process into the shop. Beverly began pulling them out one by one, hoping someone left a marker in one. “I told you, I can’t go,” she said patiently. “When you own a shop, you can’t just leave.”

  “Of course you can.” Aunt Affie’s arms folded over her round stomach. “Get that friend of yours to come.”

  “‘That friend’? You mean Julie. Aunt Affie, you’ve known Julie almost as long as you’ve known me. You know her name.”

  “Julie, then. Get her to come in. She can sit here and write her mystery stories as easily as she can in her apartment.”

  Success! From an ancient copy of Nancy Drew, Beverly pulled a rainbow-colored bookmark that had probably been there for thirty years. She stuck it in her new book, mused over the resale value of the Nancy Drew, and finally turned her full attention to her aunt. “Listen, Aunt Affie. I know you were counting on Lavinia to come, but can’t you just pay someone? A graduate student, maybe? I would imagine your grant is big enough to cover an assistant.”

  When the older woman suddenly wouldn’t look her in the eye, Beverly knew something was wrong.

  “You did get your grant, didn’t you, Aunt Affie?” No reply. Beverly put an arm around her. “Oh, no. What happened?”

  Aunt Affie shrugged. “I guess once you turn eighty they don’t think your books are worth investing in anymore.”

  Beverly led her gently over to the love seat and sat down. “That’s terrible. Are you sure you didn’t get it?”

  “First time since 1981 I’ve been turned down.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  Aunt Affie took hold of her arm, the arthritic fingers stronger than they looked. “I wish I could say it didn’t matter, that I could just do this on my own. But you know, Beverly, I’m at an age where I have to admit my limitations. Traveling over a thousand miles, walking estates, up and down staircases, plus the not
e-taking. I don’t have the steady hands to take pictures, or the energy for information gathering.”

  Beverly’s nose wrinkled in disbelief. “Lavinia was going to take notes for you?”

  Aunt Affie shifted. “I figured I would ask her once I got her there.”

  “I’d like to see how that would work!” Beverly laughed. “Because my sister never says no …”

  “Well, I didn’t say she’d say yes. I just said I was going to ask. She was willing to travel with me, so why not help in other ways? Honestly, with her reputation, I was hoping some of these castles-turned-hotels would let us stay for free. Now I’ll have to pay,” Aunt Affie said, disgruntled. “Beverly, I don’t ask a lot of you, but I am asking you to do this for me. Would you please come with me?”

  Beverly looked around the two-story bookshop. Full of enticing dark corners and colorful stacks, thousands of books promising adventure and mystery and romance … she hated to be away from it. But her gaze took in the paperwork piled on the desktop, as well. Julie could handle the paperwork. It’s only a month, after all. Plus, what better places to read her mysteries and romances than in hundred-year-old castles? “How many castles are you planning on visiting?”

  Aunt Affie’s calculating eyebrow went up. “Five. Six, tops.”

  “Okay, Aunt Affie. If it works for Julie, I’ll go.” Beverly sighed. She was already regretting the decision. Wagging a finger at her elderly aunt, she added, “But one condition. I’ll take all the notes you want, and all the photos you need, but don’t make me go to anything formal. Okay? I know how things get sometimes when you do speaking engagements. Black tie, stiff people … I hate that kind of thing.”

  Aunt Affie was already halfway to the door, a victory smile on her face. “Absolutely,” she said. “I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

  Beverly called after her, “I mean it! I’m not even packing an evening dress.”

  Aunt Beverly didn’t turn around, just waved in the air before disappearing onto the sidewalk.

  “I’m not doing it,” Beverly said to her empty bookshop. She tossed her braid behind her, and went to tackle the three bags of books. “I mean it. This time, I won’t do it.”

  Chapter 2

  Beverly walked beside her aunt down the staircase toward Trenforth Castle’s formal dining hall. She could feel the knee-high slit on her long black dress swing open to reveal tanned legs and black strappy heels. Taking in the dressed-to-the-nines dinner attendees downstairs, she sighed.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” Aunt Affie chastened. “Every time we go to one of these, you act like you’re being punished.”

  “Aren’t I? I’d planned on spending the summer rereading Agatha Christie and Sue Grafton, and instead I have to listen to—” She looked down at her short-statured aunt, whose look said I dare you. “Aunt Affie, you know I enjoy your lectures. It’s fending off the leeches and talking to all the other self-important stuffed shirts that get me.”

  “All the other ones, eh? Sounds like I’m grouped in there somehow.”

  Beverly patted her aunt’s hand. “Not even close. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you so much.”

  “I do know it, and I appreciate it. You’ve been invaluable these past weeks. I just wish you’d enjoy the socializing a little more. Connections help the university, and that helps the grants, and—”

  “—and that helps you. Got it.”

  “Good. Now let’s get down there, find our seats, and get this over with.”

  Beverly chuckled silently. Aunt Affie may enjoy coming to these things, but it wasn’t for the company. She stayed close by to make sure the carpeted stairs weren’t too much for her aunt, and it was a good thing she did. On the last step before the landing, Aunt Affie’s ankle didn’t hold, and Beverly moved quickly to catch her.

  She wasn’t the only one. Suddenly a stranger was there helping, too. “Got you,” he said, supporting her aunt from the other side.

  Beverly gasped in surprise. Where had he come from? The lobby below was crowded with people, but she’d thought they’d been alone on the stairs. Thank goodness he was there. Aunt Affie’s legs didn’t seem to be holding her up, though, and Beverly looked around for a seat. The landing was wide, and fortunately a long velvet bench stretched against one wall. “Over here,” she said, and the stranger helped her half-carry her aunt to the seat.

  “Oof!” Aunt Affie dropped down with relief.

  “Are you alright?” Beverly asked.

  “Yes! It’s these shoes,” Affie growled, before swearing at her inch-high wedges. Beverly felt a touch of relief. At least Aunt Affie didn’t appear to be having a heart attack or stroke. With a raised eyebrow, she looked up to see the stranger’s reaction to a cursing eighty-year-old woman.

  Interesting. Their rescuer-out-of-nowhere was a fine-looking man. Early thirties, short dark hair styled just a tad playfully in the front. He wore a subtly patterned black suit jacket and an unbuttoned white shirt. Spiffy dresser. His eyes were on Aunt Affie, his brow furrowed. “Ma’am, are you having any pain?” he asked in a gently authoritative voice. “Do you need a doctor?”

  Aunt Affie took that opportunity to swear more fervently, finishing with, “I’m perfectly fine!”

  Beverly couldn’t quite stifle her smile when the man’s eyes opened wide. His questioning gaze shifted to Beverly—oh! Such blue eyes! Enticing, handsome eyes.

  She must have been staring, because his eyebrow lifted, and did that corner of his mouth twitch too?

  Beverly reined in her … her whatever it was that made her appreciate this man’s looks. It didn’t do any good to encourage these flirty types, and she squirmed, irritated that he’d seen it. I’m sure I’m not the only woman to look at him that way. He’s probably conceited and full of himself. You can’t be that good-looking and not be.

  “I think she’s fine, thank you,” Beverly told him coolly. “We’ll just let her rest here a minute.”

  The hint of a smile she’d seen disappeared, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.

  Fine. Just sit there.

  Aunt Affie kicked her shoe off and leaned against the wall, moving her foot slightly from side to side. While she caught her breath and rested her ankle, Beverly sat back against the wall too. Maybe if they ignored the man, he’d catch the hint. He wasn’t needed there anymore.

  When he didn’t move, she chanced to look at him again—ugh! Those stupid spellbinding eyes! “Thank you for helping her sit down, but my aunt will be fine. I promise,” she said more firmly. When he continued holding her eyes in that maddening way, she enunciated clearly, “You can leave.”

  Darn it, she felt a little breathless just looking at him. No, she wouldn’t give in and look away. Hopefully he didn’t see her making eye contact with him as flirting. She meant to intimidate.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said in a decidedly non-threatened tone, “I’ll just sit here a moment. Make sure I’m not needed.”

  Beverly’s anger flared—not a normal thing for her and she felt off-kilter, but she thought she managed to keep her expression steady when she stated, “You’re not needed.”

  It was supposed to be a sharp comment, but darn if that smile of his didn’t twitch again.

  You find me funny? Grr. “What I mean is—” she began.

  “Whatever you mean,” he said, “when you and your aunt leave this bench, she’ll either have to go back up that set of stairs to her room, or down these stairs to the dining area. She won’t be staying on this landing forever. And when she does get up to walk, she may need some assistance.”

  Beverly’s temper rose. “I—”

  “He’s right.” Aunt Affie’s voice was calmer—no more swearing—and she actually sounded amused herself. Beverly broke her eye lock with the handsome stranger—strike that, just the stranger—and found Aunt Affie looking like a kid with candy in her pocket. A very wrinkled kid.

  Beverly shook her head and almost asked her au
nt what she meant, but the meaning was suddenly very clear. If Aunt Affie had a thought bubble, it would read, A handsome man for Beverly!

  Beverly scowled and shook her head at her aunt. Yes, this one was better than the middle-aged men who’d been hitting on her at every castle they visited, but pretty boys were not her type either.

  “He should stay for a minute,” Aunt Affie said, “see if I’m feeling alright. I may need help, you know.” She smiled, a far more innocent look than Beverly suspected was going on in that head. “I’m eighty years old, you know.”

  For heaven’s sake. Suddenly she’s acting like a sweet little old lady.

  “Eighty? That’s impressive,” the stranger said. “Especially considering what a sharp mind you have.”

  A wrinkled eyebrow raised like it had been doing calisthenics. “Sharp mind?”

  To Beverly’s dismay, one of those irresistible blue eyes winked at Beverly! Oh, the player. She looked away, shaking her head.

  “I recognize you from the lecture flyer,” he said to her aunt. “You’re Dr. Tune, correct? Here to talk about castles in America.”

  While a few of Beverly’s red flags popped up, Aunt Affie’s real smile surfaced. “That’s right. He’s a sharp one himself, Beverly. What’s your name, young man?”

  “Aunt Affie,” Beverly tried, “I bet your ankle’s feeling better. Are you ready to test it?”

  The stranger extended his hand to her aunt. “Ned Sterling.”

  “Ned Sterling,” Aunt Affie repeated. “So nice to meet you. This is my great-niece, Beverly.”